![]() “Behold! I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth; do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” (Isaiah 43 I have a fig tree in my front yard, and for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been watching the bare branches, checking every day for the first signs of life. This morning when I left my house, still nothing. But this evening as I trudged home from work, I glanced over to see each spindly finger tipped with green. As I felt my breath rise in my chest, something broke within me, a river coursing through parched paths singing, “What fresh glory! What deep, holy wonder!” This miracle got me thinking about new life and how we come to perceive it in the world. By the time the daffodils poke their heads above the soil and the buds form on the trees, it’s obvious. Spring has arrived (at least seasonally, if not officially on the calendar). But what about the months and weeks and even days before, when the bulbs are sending down the roots and unfurling from their casings? The plants are growing, preparing, and even changing on a cellular level, but most of us can’t tell the difference. There is life coursing through those xylem and phloem, but when I look out my window I can’t see it. As the prophet Isaiah speaks to the people of God in exile – a people who have been watching and waiting and wondering “how long, O Lord?” – he speaks of God’s love, protection, and care. And in the midst of the promises he proposes this question: “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?” I suspect the answer to that question was “no” or at least “not yet.” If they could see this new thing, they wouldn’t need a prophet to point the way. But God is faithful in this way too, with poets and prophets, preachers and teachers, babies and blossoms ready to help us look beyond the barren framework of this life and into something more, just beyond our ability to see it. I’m also aware that I’m musing on new life as my grandmother nears death. She’s always been someone with an artist’s vision, able to see beauty and potential, holy happenings in the most unlikely places. For most of her 97 years she’s been a paragon of prayer, speaking in words only she and God could understand. But now her language is only breath. Soon, that too will end. I wonder what is becoming inside of her? What new life is pulsing within her spiritual veins? Will her last breath here herald a budding in her eternal home? We can’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening – and what a river she will be! Her prayer and praise rarely ceased in this life, and it will flow without bounds in the next, where she knows fully and is fully known. What we see as an end may in fact be a bursting through, a springing forth, into God’s glory. So, as those left to peer through the mirror dimly, may our hearts always be full of awe and wonder. Let us approach the world with an attitude of curiosity and a deep sense of hope. Because God is always doing a new thing. Update: My grandmother died on the very day I wrote this piece, perhaps even the very minute the fig tree budded. May heaven be filled with her song, and the earth with her sweet fruit.
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![]() I was hosting a webinar recently and mentioned a Holy Week Fair we offered for our children and families last year. Our church traditionally hosts the Easter Egg Hunt on Palm Sunday, and I wanted to offer a little more faith formation around it. This fair is best for kids 3- 12 years old. It's written with multiple stations that are best set up in different rooms, but can be adapted for a single space or even outdoors. It really depends on your space. Be creative! All page numbers refer to Growing in God’s Love: A Story Bible Click Here for a PDF of the Directions. Pre-Event, Opening Set Up In largest room, gym, fellowship hall, etc.
First Station - Palm Sunday Obstacle Course this works best in a hallway leading to a room or gathering area at the end Set up
Second Station - Maundy Thursday could be kitchen or classroom near the palm Sunday obstacle course hallway Set -up
Third Station – Gethsemane and Good Friday Classroom, garden, tent, sanctuary Set up
Fourth Station – Easter classroom (can be the same classroom as good Friday), tent outside, garden Set-up
Closing, Egg Hunt
If you feel like adapting even more, I patterned this off of an event I did with my amazing colleague Katie Kinnison in Columbus, Ohio. We offered a three hour VBS-style event on Good Friday for kids and families that was a lot of fun. We called it "Thank God It's Good Friday." It could be great to add more of the stories from Jesus' last week, like the anointing at Bethany (John 12: 1-8), Jesus cursing the fig tree and/or cleansing the temple (Mark 11:12-25). ![]() Smile - even if you’re nervous and don’t know how to deal with children, even if you’re annoyed that kids kick the pews, even if you worry the baby may scream and interrupt the sermon, even if you wonder why they didn’t take those kids to the nursery, especially if you are happy they came to church. Because you’ve been blessed with the chance to be like Jesus - to teach and listen and care for the littlest among us. Here’s how:
![]() 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:
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. “Potty” is not a word you typically hear in a sanctuary. Potties are for preschoolers and mommies, for sticky fingers and training pants, for lisped emergencies and unseemly accidents. A “potty” does not belong among the pews and polished shoes of our most sacred spaces. But there it was - like nails on the chalkboard of our nice, smooth church service. “Mommy, can I go to the potty?” Every head in the congregation whipped toward my three year old, shifting their focus from the proclamation of the Word to the proclamation of the potty. I wanted to sink into the crimson carpeted floor - or rush her out the side door - but I couldn’t. Because I was in the middle of preaching my first sermon in a new church! With my husband serving another congregation and room full of strangers giggling nervously or rolling their eyes, I continued, determined to preach the gospel - regardless of preschoolers and their bathroom needs. As my daughter skipped down the center aisle, carrying her sparkly little purse and our orderly worship with her, an unfamiliar older woman slipped out of her pew in hot pursuit. And we all breathed a sigh of relief. ![]() Because we are the Body of Christ and sometimes part of the body has to pee, but that does not make her worthless. Sometimes part of the body can no longer climb the stairs to the sanctuary, but that does not make him obsolete. Sometimes parts of the body might need an oxygen mask, or a hearing aid, or crayons, or an extra explanation, but that does not make them a nuisance and it certainly shouldn’t keep them out of worship. Children are a loud and messy part of the body. Their shrieks pierce our holy silence. Their pencils skitter across the floor. Their whispered questions sound more like shouts. Their cracker crumbs infest every crevice within 10 feet of their squirmy little bodies. Kids crunch and cry and crawl up into our holiest of spaces, and God meets them there. God meets us there,”Let the children come to me.”Jesus gathers the little ones into his arms and implores us all to join them in their wonder, their joy, their hopefulness - even their messiness - "for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs" (Mark 10:14). On my first Sunday at this wonderful little church, my daughter distracted us from our order of worship, but she could never distract us from God. When she and her new 80 year old friend marched back up the aisle hand in hand, beaming with holy delight, we all felt the embrace of the Holy Spirit drawing us into community, nestling us into the very heart of God. Our littlest members can make the biggest impact in transforming our church into what God calls us to be - a messy and miraculous body of believers. So the next time a child pulls your focus from the liturgy or the sermon or the prayer, look for God. In the grandfather’s smile, in the mother’s coos, in the sister’s laugh or the friend’s helping hand, God is there, welcoming the little ones - and the big ones too! |
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