I have spent my entire adult life learning about children and the church, serving children in the church, or wanting to serve children in the church, so I obviously feel like children are the most important people in a church. In my early days of ministry, I held tightly to certain aspects of ministry that were, for me, non-negotiable. In the years since I have loosened my grip on almost every one of them because I’ve learned that most of life is fluid and relative. However, there is one hill that I will die on, one message I will preach every opportunity I have, and one idea that I cannot, for the life of me, understand why it is even up for debate.

Children in church.

My knee-jerk reaction is to put a big stamp on it that says “Are there children in your congregation? Then they should be wherever the congregation gathers. End of discussion.” But, I sha’n’t. Also, I should note that this particular blog is directed at those people who already attend church. I’m not attempting to proselytize, but rather encourage.

But first, a little bit of very brief history on how we ended up in this predicament in the first place. . . Well, a summary, because it’s a lot and could be an actual thesis but we’ll save that for another day.

If we go way back to Deuteronomy 6, we read that God commanded God’s people: “You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.  You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.  You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” (vv. 7-9). The idea being that as you go about your day, as you walk and work, you tell your children about who God is. (Aside: frontlets are pieces of parchment that had portions of the Law (called “thephillin” or “prayers”) written on them which were then rolled up and placed in calfskin and tied around the wrists and forehead.)

Jesus welcomed children to his side while he taught. We know he used the simple offering of one young boy to perform one of his greatest miracles. He urged his listeners to have the faith of a child. Jesus placed high value on children.

1500s. Protestant Reformation takes place. Men like John Calvin and Martin Luther wanted to replace the idea of catechism and public confession of faith that the Roman Catholic Church had done away with. They believed that children should be taught the fundamentals of the faith individually, then supported by the larger body in corporate worship. Moving right along…Early 1700s, John Wesley traveled from England to Savannah, Georgia and his passion for Christian education propelled the Sunday school movement in America.

Meanwhile, in London: The Industrial Revolution kept lower class children from attending school. Sundays became the only day for them to receive any kind of education, so Sunday school provided education all the way around. This intentional educational time provided a catechism and spiritual foundation. The idea of Sunday school was to supplement what they were experiencing in the larger body of worship — not replace it.

If you’re still with me, kudos.
Sometime in the 1950s and 60s, churches (as a whole) began to communicate to families that the church would be primary instructors for their children’s faith formation instead of partnering with families. This mindset gave way to children-only experiences and reinforces a false idea that parents are not equipped to do the work themselves. The focus, rather, should have been on partnership and equipping of families.

Barna Research released a study a few years ago regarding the lifelong effects of children being in church — not children’s church, not Sunday school, or life groups or whatever they’re called where you are, but Sunday (or Saturday) worship with the big body of believers. It is linked here, if you want to read it.

Children learn how to be humans by watching and doing. They watch first, then they do. We show them how to hold a spoon, or how to drink from a cup, or use the potty. They learn by doing these things alongside of us, so they can see how and why we do it. We lay a groundwork and foundation for them to build on — or dismantle and rebuild. If we neglect the foundation, the edifice we attempt to build on top will not stand.

Baptism, communion, and worship are how we respond to the grace we have received. They are oaths we make, as people of faith.

Children learn what baptism is by seeing it.
They learn what communion is by doing it.
They learn what worship is by experiencing it.
They learn that they have inherent value, just as they are, by receiving it.
When we remove children from the larger body of worship, they cannot begin to understand their immense value to the community because they are not a part of it. Our community cannot learn how to walk alongside our children (and their families) and help them on their way if children are not a part of it.

Is it difficult? Yes.
Is it worth it? Absolutely.