I could see her from the corner of my eye as the music overcame us. Her hand went up uncertainly and then it came back down. While my children have been in the worship service at church with us, it is usual for them to participate in “children’s church.” Yet, this particular Sunday was family day at so all of us stood hip to hip in the sanctuary.
The clapping songs were fun as we danced around a little bit and the band praised Christ quite loudly. However, my children were a bit uncertain as they did not know all the words and tried desperately, to follow along. Then one of our favorites began to play. My oldest daughter slipped up close to me and threw her arms around my waist. I loved feeling her nestle close., but, soon I was totally focused on my Beloved Savior. That was when I saw the hand. I leaned in close and reminded her why my own hands were raised. This is a way for us to really reach out and be able to feel God close to us. We reach up as he reaches around us. At first it was just that she wanted to hold my hand. Soon she joined me with her hand in the air, reaching out to touch the face of God. As we stood there intertwined, soon I knew that she too understood why we were doing this. I could hear her voice unwavering rise above the crowd. Unashamed, unabashed her heart poured out to her Lord. My daughter has never been so beautiful as she was at that moment. Eyes closed, clinging to my hand, hand reaching out to heaven, she sang with all of her soul. It was only Jesus and my little girl in an auditorium filled with people.
The reality that my children are watching me hit me like a ton of bricks. My kids are paying attention. On Sunday it has shown itself in an act of worship. However, I have seen it in so many other ways. Their attitude about life. The ability to have deep compassion for the hurting. Injustice bothers my kids. These are all things that come directly from Mom and Dad.
Sometimes, I don’t like what they see. I am not always “slow to anger.” Just today I was hit with the reality that my self image is quite skewed. I can be critical and blunt. Ugh. I don’t always want them to watch me. However, I understand that it is my responsibility for them to really see Jesus and not me at all.
My thoughts wander to all of the children I interact with in the city. As they look around what do they see? Who do they aspire to be? Who are they watching?
It would be so easy to throw blame. “If only their parents were different, then there wouldn’t be so many problems!” “Can’t they see their kids are watching!’
However, I would contend they may know their children are watching, but not that they are absorbing. Furthermore, the reality is, “Hurt people, hurt people.”
The ONLY thing that separates me as a parent is the grace and mercy of Christ. I am just a cracked earthen, vessel that shines out the Christ within. With no light it is just an empty pot. Thus, there is nothing to offer anyone, even if it is our own children.
As my mind ponders, I can see the double responsibility here. My light can not just bring warmth to my own children. It must radiate out beyond to the families of the city. This is the light that drives out all fear.
If this is true it will transform lives. Parents will be drawn to its safety. As they are changed, their children too will draw close to them one day so they might worship together. One day we will all stand side by side. Each one of us, parent and child focused on the King on the Throne.
