Tag Archives: church

Is Sunday School going extinct?

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Never believe that a few caring people can’t change the world. For, indeed, that’s all who ever have. ~ Margaret Mead

There’s one in every crowd or in this case, committee.  Leave it to a science teacher who never graduated out of the preschool days of asking why to be the one in this case. I fervently believe and espouse in the college courses where I inspire future science teachers, one of the reasons we have to market science courses to high school learners is because we urged our youngest learners to stop asking so many questions when they were in preschool.  Preschoolers make the best scientists because they still have the it factor, and it meaning a healthy dose of curiosity.

I am not one for sophomoric humor (despite living with boys where  I get a HEALTHY exposure), but I have never graduated out of that preschool sense of awe and wonder regarding God’s creation and definitely not now, nor anytime – ever –  quit asking questions of how the world works. This questioning (while not the Spanish inquisition) can, at times, exasperate those around me.

I am a thinker and a dreamer, spending much time reflecting (and as I like to call it ruminating) over thoughts.  If I were to describe myself, I would tell you that God made me a BIG IDEAS kind of girl.  When in his word He tells us to take delight in Him and He will give us the desires of our hearts, I take that to heart (and I am not trying to be pun-ny). I DREAM big and have ceaseless fascinations.

Currently I am serving an advisory role in my church’s Christian Education committee and we, too, are experiencing what countless other churches are – a decline in Sunday school enrollment.  Our church conducted a survey asking all kinds of questions about people’s thoughts about Sunday school and small groups as those serve a similar function in our church.  The results provided some useful data for this science education teacher’s mind, but there was one nagging question that my ruminations could not let go and was the one question we didn’t ask.

And like that, I became a one woman crusader on a quest to uncover answers.  How can I make an informed decision to go forward if I don’t know why people are making the decision not to attend?  So what would any wannabe social scientist and anthropologist do in the modern world? Yep, you guessed it! She uses social media to poll her friends.  About now, Margaret Mead might be rolling over in her grave.

I didn’t mean this as a quantitative analysis, but rather as a snapshot of today.  I was blown away by the responses I received, but more so by the raw honesty from not only my community but from others in communities far away as well.  Some of the answers moved me to tears and reminded me that we can never as a church community forget that just because the doors of the church are open that not everyone feels welcome.

Here is a snippet of the responses thus far: (SS = Sunday School and SG = small group)

We are slow starters. Don’t always make it to church.

My child says he learns more at AWANA and it is much more fun than SS.

My kids learn more at AWANA and dread SS.

Live too far out to come back into town for SG.

2 hours is a long time to sit for little ones on Sunday morning.

School/sports activities.

Too much on the plate/agenda.

Live too far out.  SS offering would have to be something really good for me to come.

Cannot hear well and miss out on the conversations in the SS class.

Doesn’t read well and is terrified to be called on to read in the SS class.

Don’t know the Bible well enough to attend with others who know more.

Not making SS a priority.

Hates that sports occur on Sundays but feel that child would not be able to play if they didn’t participate.

SS is boring. (Adults & kids responed)

Very difficult choice for sports families.

Sunday morning is the only time my family can sit down together and interact.

If parents don’t make it a priority, it will never be for the kids.

Do not see the value in SS because it is rare to find devoted teachers rather ones going through the motions.

Just plain worn out after a tough work week.

Feel guilty just dropping off kids for SS (and not staying). Easier for all to stay home.

Kids went up until jr high and then dreaded SS so much I quit fighting them on it.

Changes in SS approaches didn’t work for us.

Treats are always good! But that only works for so long.

Wed night education is great, but for high schoolers it is tough to sit another hour after sitting in school all day.

Don’t know anyone there. SS is clique-y.

Disappointment in the offerings for studies in SS.

Feel awful when we miss a few weeks and are behind on the study.

I am all for transparency and try to model it in every leadership role I have including home, work, volunteering, and church family.  The last answer in the ones above is mine. We are a sports family and sometimes we have to miss because of a sporting event where my children are playing.  I get overwhelmed when I get behind in anything and even though I don’t believe Jesus would care, I don’t like feeling overwhelmed when I walk in.  Growing up, Sunday School was one of my most favorite places in the world to be.  We were at the church about every time the door was opened.  In fact on a recent trip to tour the South of my childhood, I went to visit all my old churches. Those old buildings were like beacons calling me home.  What I wonder now is if the Sunday School of my childhood is not relevant to my world today,  then what do we do? How does the church of today stay relevant while trying to reach people where they are and still offer education?

While my methods were not, at all, scientific, my heart is in a place that truly wants to make a difference.  Now that I have scratched the surface of why we aren’t gathering together, my next step will be to find out what people want out of a church (which to me means family) without “diluting the gospel”.  No matter what that looks like, I will continue to go out to love and serve others.

I think that is what Jesus would have wanted all along.

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One of the churches of my childhood.  Britt David Baptist in Columbus, GA. 

Please join the conversation by answering the question: If your church has Sunday School (or small group) AND you don’t attend, what is your reason for not participating? Feel free to reply here or to message me at mominmn@hotmail.com if you don’t want others to see your thoughts. Your thoughts will really help me to help others.

18 days: a blue Christmas

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Before the darkest day of my life, I thought the title of today’s blog was just a schmaltzy holiday tune. After experiencing profound and tragic loss, it became more of a realistic sentiment. A rural church in my area annually hosts a Blue Christmas service where grieving families can come to remember lost loved ones. I have never attended, but I do think the ceremony could bring comfort to many.

I have written before about my struggle with hanging stockings because I should have seven children’s stockings to hang instead of three. I DREAD that day each year. On my part it involves a lot of stall tactics and general avoidance.

I am so thankful however that my friends do not utilize those same tactics. Employing aptly timed visits, phone calls, or texts, they seem to sense a gentle nudging from our Father above that I am feeling down. The blessing of their friendship works EVERY single time.

Every day, I exchange daily prayer requests with a dear one in my life. Today, she told me about a small act that she did over the weekend. Feeling worn and weary from her own life’s struggles, she just needed to do something to bless someone else as a way to pick up her own holiday mood. As she was telling me the story, my mind was racing around the thought that I SO get it when you feel you have used up all your goodness and mercy. When everything seems to be going wrong, the only thing that makes sense is to find a way to reach out and brighten someone else’s day.

She went to the store and bought a small bag of treats and delivered the gift to a grieving mom. Her retelling the story made me choke up, because I understand how one small act, at a time when everyone else is anticipating Christmas day with great joy, can be transformational. A small kindness reminds me and every other grieving person that our loved one hasn’t been forgotten. A simple token whispers directly to the soul saying a name we long for no one to forget.

My friend’s story reminded me of all the acts (big and small) that friends (near and far) have done for me and my family. Each kindness changing the hue of a blue Christmas by pointing us to the true author of hope – a tiny baby wrapped in swaddling clothes!

 Blue Christmas

My [imperfect] church

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After Sunday’s service, there was an endearing exchange that occurred at the back of the church. An elder was praising our girl for her great game on Friday night. Jokingly, I asked him if she was now speaking to him. The reason for the ribbing was her “insistence” that he jinxed her team when he came to root for her in his town wearing that town’s fan gear. She said she was going to blame him for their addition to the “L” column. Despite the bad apparel choice, he cheered for her team (and her specifically) the entire game. All of this playful teasing was followed with raucous laughter, lined with appreciation, love and support – and of course, basketball advice.

I have purposefully waited a few days to let the words in my previous blog ruminate in all our hearts. My intention was to share that no church anywhere is perfect, because they are full of sinners. If you are looking for the perfect church, you won’t find it because all are filled with imperfect people. My writing was also to proclaim that a veil had been lifted from my myopic vision. God showed me how I contributed to the problem, keeping me from my heart’s desire is to encourage others in their faith.

I don’t want to be a stumbling block or obstacle – which required me to take a long look in the mirror of my soul and get real with God. Rather than forgiving, I internalized hurts and perpetuated a problem. I do have a fervent wish to love without reservation – just like Jesus did, and in my inner recesses, I think he would be grieved by how we who love him have turned away both the lost and the found by our actions.

Many years ago, I had a friend who believed in Jesus but never attended church. She would always quote Matthew 18:20 (For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them. [NIV] ) as her reasoning. Whenever I asked if she would like to go, she would respond that churches were full of hypocrites. Well that is true, but I didn’t really feel like our shopping trips and fun excursions counted as church. I know Jesus was in our midst, but that didn’t fill my longing for church.

This is not a condemnation of anyone’s views or church attendance patterns. This is more a love story of how a collective group imperfect people work together to encourage each other in God’s love and what that means to me, personally.

When our darkest hour happened, the first people to rally around were church people – our own and those from sister churches. I could write a tome on all the kindnesses that have been extended to us over the last six (has it really been that long???) years. Those acts of being the hands and feet of God were forever etched in my heart. Church, however, is so much more than Sunday morning service and helping out when a hardship hits.

SO. MUCH. MORE.

We eat together, serve together, craft together, study together, pray together, love together, and mourn together. Basically, we just do life which includes the messy stuff too.

Do we fail each other? Yes, but we forgive and reconcile. Like the time, Reed learned the hard way that casting the first stone might break the nursery window. The grace extended to him in that incident embodied encouragement and understanding. For me, Hebrews 10:25 let us not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another [NIV] is more in line with why my church matters to me.

Encouragement. We all need it.

Do we forget that verse sometimes? Yes, I am afraid we do, but when the Holy Spirit convicts our hearts, we return with repentant attitudes.

One of my favorites is how much we laugh together which I know has to be music to Jesus’ ears. Young and old – we really know how to fellowship. From quilting bees to freezer meals and from campfires to game nights, there isn’t a moment where you would not find some chuckles to be shared. Some jokes just seem to never grow old either.

The Herdmans in the The Best Worst Christmas Pageant Ever have nothing on us, as one year an exuberant preschooler hit the lit advent wreath which flung up in the air in what appeared to be slow motion before it came to rest – thankfully extinguished – at the base of the organ.

This, of course, is second to the pageant where the wiggly preschooler fell off the stage and was wedged upside down with only his feet showing between the piano and the alter area while the soloist lived up to the slogan, “The show must go on!”

Our senior pastor is often at the helm of many of those jokes as he encourages us to laugh with (and frankly sometimes at) him. Not many can say their spiritual leader has attended parties dressed as an octogenarian to celebrate someone being “over the hill”. He was also one of the chief cheerleaders as our Boy Wonder healed from surgeries, and his prowess with Nerf Dart Gun attacks on stacks of Styrofoam cups would awe anyone.

crockpot

We clip newspaper articles of each other’s children, exchange high fives, bake cakes for funerals, make jello molds (something I thought I would never do), exchange recipes, know who made what food for the potluck based solely on the crockpot, send letters and notes, (and laugh when we put the wrong card in the wrong envelope), create new traditions, cuddle babies, make quilts, sing Hallelujahs, hug and wipe away tears, help you pick up the pieces when life seems shattered . . . all out of love. A love for a God who made us all family even with all our flaws and imperfections!

So it was last Sunday, loved exuded as three generations of God’s people gathered around the back pew to laugh about the familiarity of friendship and the love of a game. No we aren’t perfect, but we are all trying to love God and love others. Somehow that just feels like home.

Churches be full of haters*

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I recently read this blog forwarded to me by my cousin, Amy. The incredible message was that Christians forget that their actions can lead people . . . far, far away from the church doors and even farther away from a God they profess to love.

From what I know, churches are full of liars, cheaters, misfits, and condemners.

Each and every seat or pew is filled with . . . sinners.

Hypocrites, Bertha-better-than-you’s, and judges – lots of them – can be found in every nook and cranny in every church, synagogue or house of worship.

In God’s eyes: haters!

And I am one of them.

That was a difficult thing to write.

For years, I have watched as God’s people have become known not for what they stand for, but more for what they stand against.

Christian brothers and sisters – Whatever happened to love and grace?

If as the author of Pearls and Grace states, we turn away the unsaved (and we do), then what are we doing to those Christians with whom we share the pew?

I really hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about this until the weapon of judging was launched at my own family.

Basically, we heard that some people were complaining that we sit at the back of the church in the section that is loosely reserved for Families of Small Children. The chatter kept coming back to us in such a way that the message seared into our hearts was – we weren’t welcome in our own church.

Picture found at thatreformedblog.com

Picture found at thatreformedblog.com

Et tu, Brute?

Our baby is nine. She can sit perfectly still and quiet during Sunday morning services. We don’t sit there because of her. We sit there because of me.

Taking a line from the aforementioned blog:
“She will reach to the back row and encourage and minister to the hearts of the women who can’t get past the grief and sorrow of their own life.”

That describes me perfectly. My grief, not my child’s behavior, a few Sundays a year, prevents me from making it in the door let alone to any pew.

I know I am loved by God, but sorrow strikes every cell of my body on those days. I do not want to bolt past the whole congregation with mascara tracks streaming down my face from a front pew.

Don’t get me wrong. I know people love us there, but I don’t always want to share those moments with others.

I’m pretty tough, but attacking my baby girl for my comfort zone insecurities pushed us out the door for a while.

How many others have left for similar reasons?

Gossip and judgment allowed us to feel alienated.

When we did return, every time I saw the people who had hurt us, I bristled and walked away. My hurt heart hardened.

In the last few days, God reminded me that my reaction to their hurt was in every bit as much of a sin as their words against us.

Anyone who doesn’t love is as good as dead. Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer, and you know very well that eternal life and murder don’t go together. 1 John 3:15 (MSG)

I had to ask God’s forgiveness for being one of the haters up in here – my actions were in direct opposition of his words and his commandments to love.

One of those sinners sitting in those pews . . . is me.

The one who is learning graciously with God’s gentle ways that love is what, and only what, he has called me to do.

Imagine how Christians would be perceived if we did just that – Love our brothers and sisters – period.

What a revolution that would be!

Special Note – * I apologize to every English, Language Arts, or grammar teacher I have ever had for using such bad grammar for my title. But if Mrs. Langemoe taught me one thing in Junior High; it was shock value goes a long way. Funny how her shocking revelation was to tell us every day in a public school that she loved us!