Children in a sacred space can be distracting, but worship is not about our experience – be it beautiful or broken. Worship is about God. 

It is not always easy to welcome these wiggly wanderers into our sanctuaries, but when we do, kids transform our worship of the Living God with their unique gifts:

1. Their glee - Whether they channel their inner rhythmic gymnast with ribbon sticks during a hymn, pass the peace with high fives, or offer heartfelt prayers for a lost teddy bear, kids season our sensible service with surprising depth and mirth. Kids fidget and interject. They dance and sing. They color and clap. They listen and ask questions – and they do some of these things at unfortunate moments. 
   But no matter how crazy or loud or messy the kids get, God arrives anyway. On the wings of glory and giggles, the Spirit calls children to interrupt our worship routine, to help us take ourselves less seriously and to embrace the holiness of spontaneity.
   
   
2. Their glitter - Children are rarely empty-handed in worship. They may scoot in with stuffed animals and snacks or grab for the pencils and hymnals in the pews, but kids tend to keep busy. This is how they learn and process their surroundings, but it’s also how they praise God, and you can join them! Look for what the kids are holding.
   With fists full of goldfish, glue, glitter, or grace - once children bring the sparkles into the sanctuary you can never get them out. Ever. Every week, someone leaves baptized with a little disco-Jesus-love, marked with the cross of fabulous grace. Don’t be afraid to get a little messy.
   
   
3. Their greed - Children arrive at the communion table eyes wide with holy anticipation, hands outstretched for a great big hunk of Jesus the Bread of Life. And then they come back - like little Oliver Twist - “Please, may I have some more?” 
   Kids hunger for God. How might our church be transformed if we all approached the throne of grace with that soul-rumbling hunger?
   
   
4. Their generosity-  Kids pass the sacred bread around God’s table just as they do the hallowed markers, the venerable scissors, and the revered glue-sticks - because there is always enough to share. This is one of the great lessons of childhood that we tend to neglect as we mature.
   We teach our children to share even when - especially when - they don’t want to. Whether it is a special toy, a new box of crayons, or bag of halloween candy, children learn to take turns and give of what they have. In a culture that screams “more! more! more!” kids remind us that when we share, we all get enough.
   
   
5. Their grace - This October for World Communion Sunday, I planned a solemn and moving liturgy recognizing the brokenness in our church and our world, calling on Jesus to make us one through the bread and cup. But God and my two year old son had other plans. As I began the prayer, he grabbed a rainbow ribbon stick and began running down the aisles, big sister on his heals, both of them laughing with wild abandon. I could have been frustrated and grumpy that the kids ruined my liturgy, but I chose to smile and laugh. We cannot control the actions of children (or anyone for that matter), but we can choose how we respond.
   Instead of looking down at the words of my well-crafted prayer, the children shifted my focus up and out to this fearfully and wonderfully made Body of Christ - old and young, middle-class and working poor, black and white, native-born and immigrant - relishing the in-breaking of Holy Spirit, united in God’s Holy Presence, freed to worship Christ in grace and truth.
   
   

When we move the children out of the sanctuary, we worship blindfolded. It might be easier to hear the Word but it’s harder to see holiness of the whole Body of Christ worshipping together. 

So the next time kids ruin your worship, will you sigh and start crafting an email to their parents or the pastor in your head, or will you chuckle and start looking for the Spirit in the midst of the mess?

Choose freedom over frustration. Choose grace. Allow the little ones to transform you into something bigger, more beautiful and more powerful than you ever imagined - the Church.

“Mommy, can I get some candy?”

“Yes,” I replied, undaunted in my attempt to preach the Word. My almost four year-old daughter had recently discovered two things: 1) There is a bowl of hard candy in the church office and 2) Mommy isn’t really interested in teaching a lesson about nutrition or risking a meltdown in the middle of a sermon.

This was not the first time I received such a request, but when I saw a usually placid face on the front row contort with shock and fear, I knew something was terribly wrong.

I whipped around to find my little girl balancing on tip-toe at the communion table. One hand gripped the table cloth laden with lit votives, while her brown curls and pudgy fingers trembled as she attempted to set her own candle aflame. Instantly, I was by her side calmly explaining that she could not light a candle nor take it back to her pew. I pointed her toward the stash of flameless tea lights I gave her before worship and handed her two unlit votives which she accepted with a resigned sigh. Disaster averted.

It was All Saints Sunday a year ago. She learned about fire. I learned “candy” and “candle” sound remarkably similar!

It is all part of the learning process as we embrace the joys and the challenges of worshiping as a cross-generational community. We believe it’s important for children to worship with adults, but we’re also learning it’s good for adults to worship with children.

In our age-segregated society, many adults don’t have the opportunity to interact with children. We don’t have to deal with the baby’s cries, but we also don’t get to hear her laugh. We miss the child’s impatient wiggles, but we also miss his thoughtful questions. When we move the children out of the sanctuary, it’s like worshipping blindfolded. It might be easier to concentrate, but it’s harder to be distracted by beauty, by joy, by wonder, by heart-wrenching sobs and by soul-tending love.

Last summer we held a holy parade in our sanctuary to celebrate God’s presence among us. Like David dancing before the Lord, the children decorated bikes and rode them up the center aisle leading in the bread and cup. I didn’t get to see much of the children, but I couldn’t miss unbridled joy on the faces of the adults. Worshiping with children gave the adults permission and courage to respond authentically to God’s powerful presence. The kids freed us to worship with wild abandon!

On that All Saints Sunday a year ago, when my child very nearly lit the church on fire, we experienced the great challenge and gift of worshipping with children. We learned her actions – while distracting – did not ruin worship. Worship is not about our experience – be it beautiful or broken – it is about God. Children might not know the word “sacred,” but they understand the holy power of worship. Their presence enriches our experience, deepens our knowledge, and magnifies our joy.

When I sat down next to my daughter for the final hymn that Sunday, I saw she completed a communion puzzle, joining the broken bread and jagged cup, piecing together the holy words. Eleven tea lights flickered with battery-powered might and the two unlit votives completed a circle around the fragmented whole. “Remember me.”

And so we remember. We celebrate, pray and sing. We worship with all the saints.