An Open Letter from a Dad and a Pastor
To the Church - the big C, body of Christ, Church Universal church:
I'm a pastor - those of you reading this post probably know that already. I put my sermons up here and sometimes write about theology and other things that I decide to write about when the muse hits me upside the head. And those of you who know me and who've read enough of this blog know that I'm also a dad.
I am the dad of two amazing children - as I type this right now, one of them is 4 and the other is 16 months. And every day is a new experience, a new adventure, a new opportunity to see my children learn, grow, and develop. Each day comes with new surprises, new delights, and yes, new challenges for my wife and I as we learn about our children, who they are, what they're growing to be, and how we can love them, care for them, and help them succeed and grow in this world.
It's great to see these two kids growing up from my viewpoint as a pastor, too - I love to see how they're growing in their faith and in the church. When I see my son taking his french toast at dinner, breaking it in half, and saying "Broken for you" as he puts it on his sisters plate, I don't just giggle at the fact that he's doing something cute: I feel like we as the Church are doing something right and that, even as young as he is, he's starting to understand and appreciate the beautiful act that Communion is. When my children see members of the church and call them "Grandma" and "Grandpa," "Aunt" and "Uncle," and they mean it like these men and women are members of their own family, I see the Church fulfilling its vows to these children that it took on the day each of them were baptized - to guide and nurture by word and deed, with love and prayer, encouraging them to know and follow Christ and to be faithful members of his Church. These are moments that make me smile with happiness and pride, both at my children and at the people of the Church who are helping them make these connections in their faith.
I'll be the first to admit, both as a pastor and as a father, that my children are far from perfect little angels all the time. 30 seconds after Caleb gives his cinnamon-swirled Eucharist, he's managed to empty half a bottle of syrup on top of that ersatz body of Christ in the two seconds that his parents weren't paying attention. As filled with wonder as Ceilidh is at the world around her, that wonder sometimes turns into a stray hand reaching out for something fragile and pulling it down in the attempt to explore it better. Pages get ripped and marked up with crayons, pens, and pencils. Juice, milk, water, and more get spilled. Accidents happen - in so many ways. Tantrums get thrown over the slightest offenses and without any way of predicting or preventing them - we give one of our children the wrong fork, the water got knocked over, our brother decided to push us over, or the shirt we wanted to wear is in the wash. These are the perils of parenthood, the things that we struggle with as much as any other parent throughout history has struggled - sometimes we do well, but more often than not, we know that there are more than likely better ways we could have handled any given situation.
Being parents in the Church brings new challenges, too - I've lost count of the number of blogs, Facebook posts, and personal conversations I've had with parents about the perils of parenting in the church. There's the stink-eye from well-meaning parishioners, the reminders from ushers as soon as you walk in the door of the sanctuary that "the nursery is located _____" that make you feel as if your kids shouldn't even set foot in the worship space, the moments hiding under the pew during the children's sermon as all eyes are suddenly locked on you because of what your child is doing up front...
Being both the pastor and the parent takes all of this to an entirely new level. Dear Church, it's hard enough to be a parent and feel like your kids are under the magnifying glass. But pastors (and their kids) feel this even more than other parents do. Whether it's a conscious process or not, brothers and sisters, I often feel like my children are not just under a magnifying glass, but under an electron microscope. I have a unique vantage point to see all of these things happening - and believe me, that only makes it harder. Are there some wonderful things I get to see happen? Absolutely! I get to see my children being nurtured by other adults in church - I see some of these adoptive family members helping familiarize my kids with the hymnals, with the Bible, with the bulletin, with what's going on in the service. I see my children smiling and enjoying the community by which they are surrounded. I see my children being included in little family moments inside the individual pews that others won't necessarily see.
But then my daughter lets out a very loud squeal because her brother took the toy she was playing with. Or my son gets so into the scene in his imagination as he's playing with a car or other toy that he starts making the sound effects for the police car or inventing dialogue between two dolls. And from up there in the pulpit, I see the way the church responds to those moments, too. I see the smiles, yes, but I also see the frowns. And I'm very much aware, sometimes even painfully so, of the way my children are behaving - and I'm also very much aware, again sometimes even painfully so, of the fact that it's not always met with approval or grace.
Let me share something with you that I hadn't even thought of before I became a pastor in the pulpit, myself: when I'm up in that pulpit, I'm at a disadvantage as a parent, and because kids are smart, my kids know that I'm at a disadvantage more often than not. I've had folks talk to me about how their own children were taught to behave in church and how things like what my children have sometimes done wouldn't have happened - I thank you for sharing your experiences, but I also ask you to remember: You were sitting beside them in church. I can't. The other kids even in the worship service on the same Sunday as my kids might be behaving better than mine are at any given moment, and I thank you for lifting them up as praiseworthy examples of incorporating our children into the community and worship of the church. But again, there's a crucial factor that I can't control so well: most parents/grandparents/guardians are typically sitting beside their own kids to keep them calm. Those other kids in church are mostly with their parents or other family members. I'm up in the pulpit - and because my wife is a pastor of her own church, she's in a pulpit somewhere else. I can give my kids the hairy eyeball till my eyes pop out, but they have the advantage because they know that unless it's a dire emergency, I'm not likely to leave the pulpit and take them out myself. I've given them direct warnings from the pulpit - I've even sent my son to time-out during children's sermons. But if he starts doing something he shouldn't in the middle of a prayer, it's hard to drop everything else and deal with him. And so I do my best to ignore the looks of disapproval, to talk to my children after worship, and to keep working to help them learn the best way that I can that there are better ways to act during church.
Brothers and sisters, before you get to thinking that I'm calling out my current congregation specifically, let me assure you: this is a problem across the whole big-C Church, and this is why I'm writing to the big-C Church instead of any one person in particular. Being in the pulpit brings with it specific challenges, but my wife and I face similar challenges even in the larger councils and professional situations that we enter into as pastors. Think it's hard to see disapproving glances from people in your congregation during a sermon or during a service? It's just as hard to receive them from fellow pastors when you're at a continuing education conference, a Presbytery meeting, or at General Assembly and the hosts didn't think to provide any form of childcare.
I never realized how much my children would become a defining factor in my ministry, but there it is - and if you ever read this someday, kids: I'm sorry, but I'm also not sorry. I've been in your shoes and boy, do I get it: you never asked for mom and dad to be preachers. You never asked to be put in a place where you'd learn you were held to a different standard than the other kids in your church. But you should also know that you mean a LOT to your mom and dad, and that you've made a difference in just about everything we do as pastors. When we interview with churches to find a place where God is calling us to preach and be pastors in, your feelings help us make that choice - we're going to include you in that discernment process, and one of the biggest things we're going to be looking at is whether the church actually wants you to be a part of their family! And a big part of what we do in any church we're a part of is going to be making sure that you are included and welcomed as a part of that church family.
Big-C Church: we need to take a moment together and genuinely, prayerfully reflect on the way we view what is quite possibly the most precious and increasingly rare resource we have today in the church. The children we have in our congregations are the life of our church. These are the children at whose baptisms we promised to give our love, support, and encouragement. These are the children we are tasked with nurturing in the faith. They're the children who look to us to know what the church is in the first place and to learn how they are going to experience God inside the church. If the most significant memories our children have of church are stern glances and expectations that they "be seen but not heard," then when it comes time for them to decide whether they want to keep being part of our church family, we will neither see or hear them at all. If our children's experience of church is nothing more than being shuffled off to some side room so that they're out of the way and don't cause a disruption, then they'll never know what their church is really about because they've never been invited to share the experience during the times when those experiences do the most to shape who they are and what their understanding of faith is. Our kids have more and more and more options in front of them for what to do with their time, energy, and talents - if the church doesn't make the case for itself as to why it's the most important and the best place that these kids want to be, then they won't stay around when they have the choice.
So take the time to really love the kids we have. "Suffer the little children..." and know that it's really not suffering, but growing pains and beautiful signs of life in our congregation. Please. And when it comes to my kids... I'm not asking for special favors or preferential treatment, but I am asking for your understanding, and perhaps for just a little bit of grace along the way. We're still figuring all of this out together, and we're going to have our challenges along the way. But if you're given the choice between erring on the side of grace and erring on the side of discipline... give grace a try. You might be surprised what our kids learn in the process.
I'm a pastor - those of you reading this post probably know that already. I put my sermons up here and sometimes write about theology and other things that I decide to write about when the muse hits me upside the head. And those of you who know me and who've read enough of this blog know that I'm also a dad.
I am the dad of two amazing children - as I type this right now, one of them is 4 and the other is 16 months. And every day is a new experience, a new adventure, a new opportunity to see my children learn, grow, and develop. Each day comes with new surprises, new delights, and yes, new challenges for my wife and I as we learn about our children, who they are, what they're growing to be, and how we can love them, care for them, and help them succeed and grow in this world.
It's great to see these two kids growing up from my viewpoint as a pastor, too - I love to see how they're growing in their faith and in the church. When I see my son taking his french toast at dinner, breaking it in half, and saying "Broken for you" as he puts it on his sisters plate, I don't just giggle at the fact that he's doing something cute: I feel like we as the Church are doing something right and that, even as young as he is, he's starting to understand and appreciate the beautiful act that Communion is. When my children see members of the church and call them "Grandma" and "Grandpa," "Aunt" and "Uncle," and they mean it like these men and women are members of their own family, I see the Church fulfilling its vows to these children that it took on the day each of them were baptized - to guide and nurture by word and deed, with love and prayer, encouraging them to know and follow Christ and to be faithful members of his Church. These are moments that make me smile with happiness and pride, both at my children and at the people of the Church who are helping them make these connections in their faith.
I'll be the first to admit, both as a pastor and as a father, that my children are far from perfect little angels all the time. 30 seconds after Caleb gives his cinnamon-swirled Eucharist, he's managed to empty half a bottle of syrup on top of that ersatz body of Christ in the two seconds that his parents weren't paying attention. As filled with wonder as Ceilidh is at the world around her, that wonder sometimes turns into a stray hand reaching out for something fragile and pulling it down in the attempt to explore it better. Pages get ripped and marked up with crayons, pens, and pencils. Juice, milk, water, and more get spilled. Accidents happen - in so many ways. Tantrums get thrown over the slightest offenses and without any way of predicting or preventing them - we give one of our children the wrong fork, the water got knocked over, our brother decided to push us over, or the shirt we wanted to wear is in the wash. These are the perils of parenthood, the things that we struggle with as much as any other parent throughout history has struggled - sometimes we do well, but more often than not, we know that there are more than likely better ways we could have handled any given situation.
Being parents in the Church brings new challenges, too - I've lost count of the number of blogs, Facebook posts, and personal conversations I've had with parents about the perils of parenting in the church. There's the stink-eye from well-meaning parishioners, the reminders from ushers as soon as you walk in the door of the sanctuary that "the nursery is located _____" that make you feel as if your kids shouldn't even set foot in the worship space, the moments hiding under the pew during the children's sermon as all eyes are suddenly locked on you because of what your child is doing up front...
Being both the pastor and the parent takes all of this to an entirely new level. Dear Church, it's hard enough to be a parent and feel like your kids are under the magnifying glass. But pastors (and their kids) feel this even more than other parents do. Whether it's a conscious process or not, brothers and sisters, I often feel like my children are not just under a magnifying glass, but under an electron microscope. I have a unique vantage point to see all of these things happening - and believe me, that only makes it harder. Are there some wonderful things I get to see happen? Absolutely! I get to see my children being nurtured by other adults in church - I see some of these adoptive family members helping familiarize my kids with the hymnals, with the Bible, with the bulletin, with what's going on in the service. I see my children smiling and enjoying the community by which they are surrounded. I see my children being included in little family moments inside the individual pews that others won't necessarily see.
But then my daughter lets out a very loud squeal because her brother took the toy she was playing with. Or my son gets so into the scene in his imagination as he's playing with a car or other toy that he starts making the sound effects for the police car or inventing dialogue between two dolls. And from up there in the pulpit, I see the way the church responds to those moments, too. I see the smiles, yes, but I also see the frowns. And I'm very much aware, sometimes even painfully so, of the way my children are behaving - and I'm also very much aware, again sometimes even painfully so, of the fact that it's not always met with approval or grace.
Let me share something with you that I hadn't even thought of before I became a pastor in the pulpit, myself: when I'm up in that pulpit, I'm at a disadvantage as a parent, and because kids are smart, my kids know that I'm at a disadvantage more often than not. I've had folks talk to me about how their own children were taught to behave in church and how things like what my children have sometimes done wouldn't have happened - I thank you for sharing your experiences, but I also ask you to remember: You were sitting beside them in church. I can't. The other kids even in the worship service on the same Sunday as my kids might be behaving better than mine are at any given moment, and I thank you for lifting them up as praiseworthy examples of incorporating our children into the community and worship of the church. But again, there's a crucial factor that I can't control so well: most parents/grandparents/guardians are typically sitting beside their own kids to keep them calm. Those other kids in church are mostly with their parents or other family members. I'm up in the pulpit - and because my wife is a pastor of her own church, she's in a pulpit somewhere else. I can give my kids the hairy eyeball till my eyes pop out, but they have the advantage because they know that unless it's a dire emergency, I'm not likely to leave the pulpit and take them out myself. I've given them direct warnings from the pulpit - I've even sent my son to time-out during children's sermons. But if he starts doing something he shouldn't in the middle of a prayer, it's hard to drop everything else and deal with him. And so I do my best to ignore the looks of disapproval, to talk to my children after worship, and to keep working to help them learn the best way that I can that there are better ways to act during church.
Brothers and sisters, before you get to thinking that I'm calling out my current congregation specifically, let me assure you: this is a problem across the whole big-C Church, and this is why I'm writing to the big-C Church instead of any one person in particular. Being in the pulpit brings with it specific challenges, but my wife and I face similar challenges even in the larger councils and professional situations that we enter into as pastors. Think it's hard to see disapproving glances from people in your congregation during a sermon or during a service? It's just as hard to receive them from fellow pastors when you're at a continuing education conference, a Presbytery meeting, or at General Assembly and the hosts didn't think to provide any form of childcare.
I never realized how much my children would become a defining factor in my ministry, but there it is - and if you ever read this someday, kids: I'm sorry, but I'm also not sorry. I've been in your shoes and boy, do I get it: you never asked for mom and dad to be preachers. You never asked to be put in a place where you'd learn you were held to a different standard than the other kids in your church. But you should also know that you mean a LOT to your mom and dad, and that you've made a difference in just about everything we do as pastors. When we interview with churches to find a place where God is calling us to preach and be pastors in, your feelings help us make that choice - we're going to include you in that discernment process, and one of the biggest things we're going to be looking at is whether the church actually wants you to be a part of their family! And a big part of what we do in any church we're a part of is going to be making sure that you are included and welcomed as a part of that church family.
Big-C Church: we need to take a moment together and genuinely, prayerfully reflect on the way we view what is quite possibly the most precious and increasingly rare resource we have today in the church. The children we have in our congregations are the life of our church. These are the children at whose baptisms we promised to give our love, support, and encouragement. These are the children we are tasked with nurturing in the faith. They're the children who look to us to know what the church is in the first place and to learn how they are going to experience God inside the church. If the most significant memories our children have of church are stern glances and expectations that they "be seen but not heard," then when it comes time for them to decide whether they want to keep being part of our church family, we will neither see or hear them at all. If our children's experience of church is nothing more than being shuffled off to some side room so that they're out of the way and don't cause a disruption, then they'll never know what their church is really about because they've never been invited to share the experience during the times when those experiences do the most to shape who they are and what their understanding of faith is. Our kids have more and more and more options in front of them for what to do with their time, energy, and talents - if the church doesn't make the case for itself as to why it's the most important and the best place that these kids want to be, then they won't stay around when they have the choice.
So take the time to really love the kids we have. "Suffer the little children..." and know that it's really not suffering, but growing pains and beautiful signs of life in our congregation. Please. And when it comes to my kids... I'm not asking for special favors or preferential treatment, but I am asking for your understanding, and perhaps for just a little bit of grace along the way. We're still figuring all of this out together, and we're going to have our challenges along the way. But if you're given the choice between erring on the side of grace and erring on the side of discipline... give grace a try. You might be surprised what our kids learn in the process.
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