As I sat in church this evening, I became aware of a familiar scent that I could not place. I looked to my left to see a nearby child munching nacho cheese Doritos. A few rows ahead, two boys were making quite a ruckus trying to wrestle Club Penguin comic books from one other. A pounding sound drew my attention to my right, where a young girl was frantically trying to shoot aliens on an iPad with her finger action. Mind you, these were not toddlers. These were not even preschoolers. These children ranged in age from six to ten.
This is not a diatribe on children disrupting church. I love children. I do not mind them making noise in church. It happens. I was there once; I remember the heat of embarrassment crawling up my body as I realized that my whining toddler was not going to stop, and a scene must be made as I gathered the child, the diaper bag, and any siblings to retire to the cry room.
No, this is a comment on the lack of the willingness of parents to require their children to sit quietly, without entertainment, for one hour a week. This is a plea to parents to buck up and stop being afraid of disciplining their children, for heaven's sake. And it starts in the cry room, where parents let their children run wild instead of using the opportunity to teach them to start learning to be still for longer than 30 seconds.
Oh, easy for me to say, my children must have been angels. Well, no. But my children never had food or toys in church, except for milk and a pacifier when their age was still counted in months. I confess I missed being in the actual church sanctuary enough to move forward from the cry room sooner than I should have. My kids made age-appropriate noise and probably bothered people on occasion, but we entered a blissful state when my son discovered that napping under the pew was something a three-year-old could do without being too conspicuous. It was a welcome relief for me, and humorous for the row behind us. But as he was closing in on school-age, even that had to stop.
Then my son started resting on my lap, or trying to stretch out on the pew. I had varying degrees of patience with that for a few years while he was smaller. But lying on my lap ended at some point, and now even at twelve he knows that his head on my shoulder is only sometimes tolerated. I know it's hard for kids sometimes to understand what is going on, but religion aside, I hold the firm belief that there is value alone in just learning to be still.
My sister has two sets of twins, eight and three. She can take all four of them to church and sit in the sanctuary. Sometimes she will have a rabble-rouser with a younger monkey, and have to leave for a bit, but mostly they are fine. I have taken the older two to church on several occasions over the past few years and have been remarkably impressed with their quiet, respectful behavior. And my nephew is as rambunctious and boy-like as they come. These children have just been taught to be still for an hour without the aid of entertainment. My sister is not afraid of her children, nor is she in need of the crutch of an iPad.
As I returned to my pew after communion today, trying to avoid stepping on the mess of Doritos on the carpet, I became increasingly disturbed by how many parents give up so easily. When junk food, comic books, and technology are pacifiers for school-age children, we are not allowing our children to grow up. And this does not even begin to address the message that is being sent to these children about the importance of their religion. I am not even going to go there. As a Sunday school teacher, I see parents all the time that expect me to instill the love of God in their children in one hour a week--unless of course there is worship at a soccer game that week.
Parents are the first and primary educators of their children. We must embrace that power and not give it away to pacifiers. Teaching a child to be still in the presence of God is a gift to them, not a punishment. As a dear friend, an elderly gentleman, once said to me about attending church, "With all God gives you, you can't give Him an hour?" My children know they will hear that if they ever complain about going to church, and they know that their pacifier is a stern look from mom. As my son rests his head on my shoulder even tonight, I allow it, remembering how tough it is even for adults to pay attention sometimes. But you quietly sit through those tough times, so you are there and available for the times that are truly meaningful. So to the mom of the seven-year-old banging on the iPad, leave it in the car next time as a reward for sitting quietly in church.