When I was a kid, we went to church Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. Wednesday you could eat dinner at the church, which was convenient, but even then, I don’t know how my parents managed it. As a family, we only go Sunday morning, and my teen goes Sunday night for youth group. In this day and age, three times a week seems crazy, but when my siblings and I were church kids, it was normal and fun.
As a matter of fact, we liked being a church kids. And we all turned out to be pretty good adults.
So when I read the title of an essay by Sherry White, aka The Messy Christian entitled I don’t want to raise church kids, I was a little fearful that I was going to read something negative.
But the essay, posted on The Messy Christian Facebook page, turned out to be a wonderful, uplifting read. The more I read about White’s version of church kids, the more I found myself nodding our heads in agreement. I honestly think in my childhood, church kids were the kinder, gentler sort. I am not sure that is always true today, and neither is White.
She doesn’t want to raise church kids, she says. She wants to raise Jesus kids.
Photo: The Messy Christian/Facebook
Same, Girl. SAME. Posting a photo of her daughter dressed for church and clutching her Bible, White says,
I don’t want to raise church kids.
That’s right.
I DO NOT want to raise church kids.
Matter of fact, it’s one of my biggest fears.
That they would go to church every week of their lives and never experience what the whole purpose of church is really about.
That they would come and learn about God, but never actually seek and find Him for themselves.
That they would come and learn the stories of the Bible, but never realize that they too are a Bible story waiting to happen. That their life is woven into the tapestry of life that God has created and that they are here for a greater purpose.
That they would think that God is kept inside four walls.
That they would sing the songs but never have more than a shallow appreciation for the words they sing. That those words, written by sinners turned saints by the blood of Jesus, would never penetrate their heart.
That they would sing of the light, but never know the light.
That they would hear about grace, but never know how desperately they need it.
