Love letter to the church

The little baby mentioned in this post got a baby sister a few months ago. We got to witness the new one’s baptism yesterday and I was again struck by not just God’s faithfulness through generations, but the tremendous blessing of being at the same church for a long, long time (going on twenty-six years for me!). 

I stand and sing God’s praise, and sit under the preached Word, and bow my head in prayer, with this group—

my friends with intellectual disabilities whose faith is a delight; 

the faithful, humble grandfather of the little baptized one whose integrity I’ve known for decades; 

the momma of the little one, whom I taught when she was a child and visited in sickness, who’s never jettisoned her faith in suffering; 

the new guy bravely walking into the room ready to push through the confusion of unfamiliarity to serve as our newest, sorely-needed pastor; 

some men I’ve known since back when they had hair; 

several more I’ve never known to have any; 

men and women I’ve known since before they had kids and before they were married; 

the young parents struggling through the hard work of bringing a child to a church service, whose determination to pass on the covenant to the next generation is one of the most encouraging blessings of all.  

My brothers and sisters, don’t stop struggling to bring your wiggly, wailing child. Don’t give up coming and singing praise for what you know even if most of the sermon is beyond your understanding. Don’t stop striving for holiness in the secret places of your life, don’t give up your faith, don’t get discouraged trying to find your kid’s Sunday school classroom.

I hope in years and decades to come I’m the white-haired lady who can’t wait to see her Sunday school children because she loves them so much and loves so much to tell them about Jesus. I hope someday I forget my own sufferings in the joy of lifting up others. I hope to be as peaceful and wise and kind as the oldest saints I know. 

I hope we keep worshipping until all our hair falls out, and beyond—and until the wiggly kids of today are the exasperated parents of tomorrow, who are haggard and spit-up-stained but still determined to pass the covenant to the next generation.

And I hope then my seasoned faith is a balm and encouragement to younger saints, who can look at my life and take heart that God is faithful through all generations.