Yesterday morning at our church the children put on a little singing program before the sermon. It was DARLING! Dozens and dozens of children from every race imaginable crooning in unison all about the birth of Christ.
As you can imagine, in the front row there was the gap-toothed, three-piece suited ham making a fool of himself for the sake of laughter, the shy ones bunched together along the outside, the pale, slick-haired fella whose voice (bless his heart) cracked like a donkey's during his one-line solo, and the little girl in lip gloss prepped and ready to become the next Hanna Montana should the Spirit move her in such a way as to dance. And then there's the rest, all dressed up and pretty.
Never before have I much cared for childrens' performances---Something about the way parents beam at these on cue kinda creeps me out. But yesterday morning, these childrens' singing of their love for Jesus moved me to tears---Not because they came across as so cute and precious, etc., but because it was so touching to see evidence of parents passing on to their children the love and lessons of Christ. What a contrast those kids on stage were to the brooding boy who sat behind me, sketching crucifixes titled, "Jesus deserved to die." He was there with his dad. His mother is an atheist, and he had never been to church before then. Surely these ideas were not his own. But at that moment it became clearer and more imperative than ever the importance and the reward that comes from teaching your children as early and often as possible the beauty and the value of faith. A mother or father can practice Attachment Parenting till they're blue in the face, but little compares to the effects of being a witness and a testimony to the love of Christ.
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