kids say...

John:
John has lately decided that hat is his new word of choice...especially at mealtime. He likes to pick up a dish, upturn it over his head, and proudly announce, "Hat!" If only he wouldn't always manage to find the ones with fruit juice or maple syrup in them.


Maggie:
We went to the afternoon (5 pm) church yesterday - a smaller, shorter, slightly more informal service, with no "Children's Worship" time for Maggie's age (preschool - first grade). Thus, she sat through the whole service with us.

I was feeling really impressed with her (and of course, by implication, with myself, her wise parent), that she was participating so well. When we entered the sanctuary, I asked where she would like to sit, and she enthusiastically picked the front row. When it was time for singing hymns, she asked me to tell her the words ahead of each line so she could sing, too. And she actually belted out most of the lines, missing only the ones that I couldn't tell her in advance. I found that saying the upcoming line during the end of the current one being sung is no small feat! She sat still for the prayer, then at the conclusion, joyfully gave the only audible "Amen" coming from the congregation.

Then, the sermon began. She began to wiggle a bit. Finally, she whispered in my ear, "I'm bored."

Sitting right in the front row, I began to fear that the pastor could hear this mournful plea. "Hold on, honey, and try to listen. It won't be too long, now," I whispered right into her ear, hoping I was inaudible to everyone else.

"But the pastor uses words that I don't understand."

"Yes, I know. Shhh..." I am now turning a bit red and hoping no one can hear us. I am thinking this is just a boiler-plate complaint of a child who isn't following all the logic of the complex theological arguments being made, and is too tired and restless to sit still and try to pay attention. Her vocabulary is fine, after all, even for a four-year-old.

"Mom, I don't know what he means by old creation and new creation."

Wow, that caught me up short, and properly reprimanded me. She was paying attention all right. In fact, better attention than I was paying. I was busy wondering if anyone was overhearing our conversation. She was really listening. And being honest. I started to listen more carefully myself. It wasn't just a 4-year-old who would have trouble with the vocabulary. Which of us grown-ups in the church really understood what we mean by saying things like, "sanctify these gifts, the bread of life and the cup of salvation," or "grant that we may be for the world the body of Christ, redeemed through his blood, serving and reconciling all people to you?"

Could I succintly define old creation and new creation for her? Well, maybe eventually. And I understand that is the point of using such words, of course. We as a church use these big words all the time, as a necessary shorthand. A pastor could never finish a sermon if he or she always tried to fully define words like redemption and sanctification. SoI don't mean this as a criticism of the pastor's sermon. A more complex vocabulary lets us be more precise, and more concise, in communicating a topic. And yet, we don't communicate at all if we never stop to explain what we really mean, even if it means being less concise, and maybe even less precise. Maggie had a lesson for all of us that day.

James, while driving home from church:
"Mom, what is 36 + 9?"

Dad:
"Well, what is 6 + 9?"

James:
"15"

Dad:
"So, what is 36 + 9?"

James:
"45! Hey, Mom, I know what 1 + 2 + 3 + 4+ 5 + 6 +7 + 8 + 9 is ... 45! "

(Hmm, not at all where I thought he was going with that first question. At least now I know what he thinks about when he gets bored with a sermon.)