From the mouths of babes

I went home this weekend to visit the ‘rents (as Jason and I like to call them) and just be with people who love me unconditionally. On Sunday morning, as usual, the whole Crow clan, now spread over two houses in Bernie, got up and got ready for church. The entire time I’ve been in college, then grad school, then living and working in Nashville, my parents have sat in the same spot in their small church–in the far stage left section of the church under the soft, muted lights of the stained glass windows. There’s a reason for this seating arrangement, though. My mom’s the church pianist and my dad is the lay song leader, so this location gives them easy access to the piano and the pulpit and still remain unobtrusive. On Sunday, I walked into the sanctuary of the church, looked for my parents in their familiar location in those busy, chatty minutes right before the service started, and saw something not quite right. My mom was there, standing in front of their “pew,” but she was talking to someone–make that four someones. Lined up on the pew were four little kids I’d never seen before. I walked up and asked my mom where to sit. She pointed between two kids and said, “Right here, between these two!”

I sat as directed and my mom and dad headed to the front of the church for the worship service. There I was, surrounded by a herd of little kids I didn’t know who didn’t have a clue what was going on around them. They weren’t familiar with church or the practices we have. During the offering, one little boy, Austin, looked up at me with big blue sad eyes and asked, “What do they put in there?” I told him it was offerings, then realized from his confused expression that he had no idea what an offering was. It was just jibberish to him.

I don’t know if I’ve been like these kids. I grew up in church and I know the intricacies of the things we do. I understand the ceremony; I know the jargon. But sometimes, because I’m around “church” so much–at home, at work, at church!–sometimes I have to admit that I’m simply going through the motions and if you were to ask me then why I was doing something–giving an offering, praying during the invitation, or singing the hymns–I probably couldn’t give you a worthy answer. My life is supposed to be an expression of worship to Him, and sometimes I can’t even honestly worship Him at church. And if I’m just doing it to follow the rules, it’s all meaningless!

The Lord says: “These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is made up only of rules taught by men.” Isaiah 29:13