By Steven Norris
Ashley was only nine months old when she came to live with our family. She and her brother, John (not their real names), were our first long-term foster placement. Overnight, they had new routines, new surroundings, new food, new smells, new names and faces, and a whole new set of expectations.
Within the first few weeks of their placement, we were at church on a Sunday morning. John and Ashley had never attended church in the birth home, so this was a new experience for them. As I delivered the sermon, I could see that Ashley had decided that she was done. She was squirming out of my wife’s lap, had thrown her pacifier across the sanctuary, and was making quite a bit of noise. Those sitting around them were trying not to be rude, but people were staring.
It made me wonder: What are our expectations around children in church? The default setting for many churches is ripped right out of the Victorian era: “Children should be seen and not heard.” Too often, we expect children to be small-sized adults and are shocked when they squirm, make noise, and want to crawl under the pew to mess with the shoes of the parishioners sitting in front of you. (That is a bit specific, isn’t it?)
Jesus had a similar issue. As Matthew’s Gospel tells the story, it was the parents who were causing the disruption, elbowing one another to get close enough to Jesus for a blessing. The disciples rebuked them, opting for a more orderly gathering free of distractions. Jesus, however, chose a different way. He said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14). In another passage, he places a child in the center of the gathering and says that they are the example of how we all should receive the kingdom of God.
One of the key responsibilities of the Church is to pass on the faith generation to generation. The book of Deuteronomy tells us: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children.”
I remember visiting one church and seeing a card in their pew rack that said, “To the parents of our young children: Relax! God put the wiggle in children. Don’t feel you have to suppress it in God’s house. All are welcome! … Remember that the way we welcome children in church directly affects the way they respond to the church, to God, and to one another. Let them know that they are at home here.”
Did you know that we have had parents quietly choose not to attend certain services at FBC because they were so self-conscious about their child being disruptive during the service? This should not be, friends! In 2025, you are going to notice some changes (especially in our Connexion service). These will include me leading an “extended children’s sermon” in place of the regular message, providing a special place in the service for our kids with quiet toys and activities, and offering a special kids’ communion experience on occasion.
We want to support our parents in raising their children, but our entire congregation has a responsibility to pass on our faith to the next generation. When a child is dedicated in our church, I ask the congregation: “Will you support these parents, as they seek to raise their child in the love and knowledge of Jesus? Will you pray for them, and seek to live your life as an example of Christian discipleship?”
Part of supporting them is helping in those moments when everyone turns to stare during the service. It means offering them a supportive word or giving an understanding smile. It means extending grace when their child acts like a child and celebrating their presence in the service. Sometimes, it will mean attending a service that is geared with our younger members in mind, as well. Supporting our parents means that we must expect, welcome, and celebrate a little “holy chaos” from time to time. It is a sign of life in our church. I hope that you will join me in this effort in the year ahead.
So, what did I do on that Sunday morning as my wife was struggling to contain our foster daughter? I stepped over, picked her up, and carried her with me to the pulpit. Immediately, she calmed down. I finished the sermon that day with my foster daughter on my hip, with the support of a congregation that loved us and understood the importance of grace — just as it should be. May there be more communities that follow such an example.