Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, April 17, 1994 TAG: 9404130041
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Cody Lowe
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
What we didn't expect - since we'd been out of church a while - was that by crossing those thresholds with little tykes in tow we would be exposed to weekly opportunities for ridicule and shame and embarrassment.
It's called Children's Time, or something equally original.
This is the payback for all those Sunday mornings you took a date skiing at the lake. Or when you just slept in, then lolled around the kitchen in your underwear reading the newspaper and eating cold cereal. Or when, heaven forbid, you were just getting home after the party that began Saturday afternoon.
Pleasure, indeed, always has its price.
Somewhere back in the late '70s, the best I can tell, the international clerical conspiracy was trying to figure out how to get young adults back into church and synagogue.
Guitar masses, church gymnasiums and casual attire had brought a few back - but not enough. So, some religious masterminds scratched their heads and came up with - GUILT!
Of course. It was perfect. The old stand-by. Old reliable. Old faithful.
Guilt started seeping into our psyches. What would we say when the kids asked how come we never go to church like Grandma does? What if somebody used the phrase "parting the waters" and your kid didn't know who Moses was? If some new Jim Jones wanted to start a People's Temple in your town, would your kids know enough to stay away?
So, they got us. We knew we had to get up early on Sundays again. Really early. It takes forever to get that frilly dress on a squirmy 6 year old. Then you spend an hour trying to get her to eat without getting eggs or milk or jelly on the frilly dress. (A beach towel tied around the neck usually worked.) Finally - and all too often not in a mood conducive to joyful worship and praise - you get out of the house and on the road.
Sunday school isn't so bad. You shuttle the little hellions - uh, angels - into a classroom where they learn about Daniel in the Lion's Den, David and Goliath, or the Nativity.
Now, what you find out is that instead of the kids heading straight to a nursery or other place of their own so they won't cry and squirm and otherwise annoy the adults, these days they go with you into the service - at least for the first few minutes.
Now, we have the "children's service."
That's when all the youngsters are called down to the front and either sit on the floor or the always empty front pew while a clergyperson talks to them a couple of minutes and relates a quick Bible message.
They're out of range now of Dad's tap on the knee or Mom's finger pressed over the lips. There is no censor.
Art Linkletter made a career out of just such opportunities. Kids do say the darndest things sometimes.
Parents live in mortal dread of those few minutes every Sunday morning when you can't control what your kids are gonna say in front of God and everybody when Pastor Mike asks, "Does anybody have anything to tell us about their week?"
He asks so innocently, but we can feel the sinister glee of the half-suppressed chuckle. This is how he keeps us in his grip. This is a more powerful incentive to good behavior than any sermon.
Kids are impelled by some supernatural force to innocently spurt out anything that's even remotely embarrassing.
"I keep telling my brother not to pick his nose, but he does it anyway."
"Daddy had a REAL bad headache Saturday morning and Mom said he oughta stay away from the sauce."
"Mommy and her new boyfriend make an AWFUL lot of noise."
"Daddy said he was gonna find that policeman who gave him the ticket and fix him good."
Meanwhile, most of the parents are trying to look placid while silently praying, "Dear God, please don't let my kids say anything. Maybe they could have a temporary case of laryngitis? I swear I'll be a better example this week."
Of course the ultimate vindication comes when that prayer isn't answered, but when your child speaks to say, "I have the best Mommy and Daddy in the whole world."
Ah, what a sweet victory. Yes, yes, the whole congregation should know that. Did she say it loud enough for everybody to hear? You turn from side to side in graceful acknowledgment of this obvious Truth.
Then you barely hear that little word, "except..."
True relief only comes on that day when your child says, "I'm too big to go down there any more."
Then you've got it made. Then this "Children's Time" is a pretty great idea.
Aren't they cute?
by CNB