My Pint-Sized Worship Mentors

This morning at breakfast we read Matthew 18.  Fresh off Sunday service, verses 1-3 struck  a chord with me. 

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?"  He called a little child and had him stand among them.  And he said:  "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." 

Last year our girls started staying in church with us.  It's not always an easy choice,  but I have learned so much about worship from watching them, and from being more in tune to other children in the service. 

Yesterday I was listening and watching Emily sing the last song of the service.  The senior pastor at our church REALLY wants his congregation to clap, to be joyful, to maybe, dare I say it, raise a hand. Just about nobody does.  Every week it's just the pastor clapping.  It's awkward. We are a unexpressive lot, except for kids like Emily.  She loves music and she loves Jesus, and she has no problem sharing that.  Oh how free she is to worship!  She dances.  She sings.  Without inhibition, she  pours out the joy in her heart.

So I hear Matthew 18:1-3 and I feel challenged.  It is ME who needs to be trained.  I need to learn what Emily already knows, that it's okay to worship.  I need to change and approach Jesus with the JOY of a six year old. 

Most Sundays when I politely get in communion line at the elder approved moment, I think of a little boy I had the privilege to worship with in Denver.  For a time last winter we were attending a very small church.  There was one little boy who was quite a handful.  He is the type of child that prompted somebody 40 years ago to come up with the idea of locking the parish children away in  Children's Church. 

One day the pastor  was giving a children's message about communion.  The children were invited to come forward and see the communion elements.  This little boy was delayed in heading up with the other kids.  I think he was stuck under the pew.  We all heard a muffled voice calling out from the back.  "Wait! Waaaaiiiiiiit!"  Then a little blur flew past us shouting, "I'm coming!  Don't start without me!"   As he screeched to a halt, barely missing the table, he triumphantly shouted
"Here I am!" 

The congregation started to laugh.  The pastor and the child's parents were mortified.  I started to cry.  Had I ever ONCE  approached the Lord's table that way?  Had I ever longed for communion with God so greatly that I would RUN for fear of missing it?  Had I ever triumphantly called out to God even in my own heart,

"Here I am!" 

 In that moment I believe the little boy brought God joy.   How God must have loved his urgency.
How He must despise our orderly lines that approach Communion with the same passion as approaching the grocery cashier. 

Since that Sunday last winter, I take a moment in communion line to remember that boy's sprint.  I imagine joining him and shouting "Here I am Lord!" And I thank God for my pint-sized mentors who are indeed changing me.

And he (Jesus) said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."