Dedication...

 

(Originally posted: May 14, 2012)

 

This Sunday was not only Mother’s Day, but the day we chose to participate in the “child dedication” service at our church. I’d heard a friend describe child dedication as “not a Baptism, or anything having to do with salvation”… it’s basically a public committment to raise our children in the way God tells us. To be honest, we’d been on the fence about participating before now, recognizing that it didn’t take a public committment to convince us that raising our kids God’s way is something we would strive for. Then we realized, that by standing in front of our friends and family, we were inviting them to pray for us, and to walk beside us in that process. Maybe it took having three kids for us to realize exactly HOW MUCH prayer we needed. I kid. (sort of).

 

So basically, the dedication day involves standing in front of “big church” with lots of other families and their children, listening to our pastor as he outlines the Biblical role of parenthood to which we’ve been called, and responding “I do” as he outlines our responsibilities. Then, he and the congregation pray with us, as we recite a prayer for our children. It sounds wonderful doesn’t it?

Now insert the children.

 

We might have guessed things were going to be “interesting” when our kids walked into the “big church” with their jaws dropped open, at the size of it all. The way our church programming is structured, the children’s church is separate from the main sanctuary. They participate in FANTASTIC sunday-school classes, and worship time on their own, in a kid-friendly environment. The staff is wonderful at making every child at ease, and even provide head-phones for the noise-sensitive kids to wear during those loud songs. That said, our kids had never even set foot into the main sanctuary.

 

And when the giant, beautiful, pipe organ began to play the prelude, our kids glued their hands to their ears. Before the service began, our pastor came around to greet each family and stand for a picture. We stood in line, waiting our turn and when Nathan and I walked forward, Trevor and Tatum glued their feet to the ground, staring at us with worried eyes. It was an all-too-familiar scene… one we’ve encountered every December when we’ve tried to take pictures we that jolly guy in the red suit. (Really I can’t blame them, have you ever met Chuck Swindoll? White hair, sharp suit, and one of the most contagious, room-filling laughs I’ve ever heard. I get it.) We knew it would only get uglier if we insisted- so we didn’t. Instead we posed for a picture with baby Trey. I’ll admit I was a little sad. It would have been our first-ever picture of our family of five. Guess I can’t quite cross that off the “overdue list” yet.

 

Of course, no one gives anyone a hard time about a crying baby, or a child who just doesn’t quite grasp what’s happening. In our case, Trevor and Tatum chose to climb up and down the stairs, leading to the pulpit… afterall, everyone knows that a handrail beside a staircase serves only one function for a child- a jungle-gym. So as we recite the prayer “Lord, give us patience and wisdom when dealing with disobedience…” I nearly laughed out loud. In that moment, our children were the full embodiment of everything we were praying for. When it came time to leave, our pastor would name each child, and we’d exit the stage, receiving a certificate. As our turn approached, Tatum stood obstinately on the stairs, refusing to leave (obviously, she’d been having too much fun). I turned to walk, hoping she’d follow… all the while thinking (please don’t make me have to REALLY parent you in front of all these people)… thankfully she eventually followed.

We survived.

 

More than that, we were reminded of what an amazing blessing it is to be a parent. To be entrusted with the gift of leading a child to the purpose God has for them, teaching them to love and serve Him, and helping them to see just how much He loved them first. Chuck went on to begin a sermon with a story about himself, sitting in Sunday school as a young child. He described that while the teacher was talking about Joshua or Jonah, “or some boring thing,” he’d made his way to the second-story window. He climbed into it, feet hanging half-way out, and proceeded to lick the glass, over and over again. I imagined what his parents must have thought when they heard the “behavior report” about their strong-spirited boy. Then marvelled at what our amazing Creator can do. The very thing that makes parenting a child so hard, can be exact thing God requires to do an amazing work. What hope.