When Children Lead Us

When I was younger, Whitney Houston sang, "I believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside. Give them a sense of pride, to make it easier. Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be." (Be honest—some of you just sang that in your head. I know I did while typing it.)

These opening lines to that old song keep popping up in my head as we move toward our first child-centered worship service and Inter-generational Craft Fellowship after worship here at St. Paul this weekend. I haven’t thought of that song for years, but maybe it’s popping up now because those words still ring true for us today.

If we’re being honest, here at St. Paul we don’t have a bustling children’s wing or rows of young families on Sunday mornings. We have a handful of families with children of various ages who faithfully show up among us and with us, and for whom we are grateful. We have also loved children who, as they’ve grown, discovered spiritual nourishment in other communities, and the connections we shared with them remain part of our story. To be sure, children have been and continue to be an important part of our life together at St. Paul, and the relationships we’ve built with them have formed this community as deeply as they’ve formed the children themselves.

In other words, whether they’re here every week or here when life allows, children matter to this community in ways that have nothing to do with numbers. Their presence shapes us. Their voices carry a kind of truth adults rarely speak out loud. Their questions—about God, about life, about relationships, about who belongs—pull us back to what’s essential in our faith and in our shared life. And the relationships we build across generations—quietly, consistently, without fanfare—have become one of the most beautiful markers of who we are.

Without a doubt, the presence of these young people among us matters a great deal because their voices and their questions and their wonder shape us. But it also comes with a great responsibility on our part. We have things to offer our young people, truths we hold, a way of being Christian they won’t encounter in most other places in our area. And it is our job and our joy to teach them these lessons that they won’t get anywhere else. We are responsible for and rewarded with the gift of teaching them:

• The unapologetic inclusion of the Divine—that God’s love is not policed by gender, sexuality, race, or status.
• ​The Way of Jesus as a path of justice, courage, tenderness, and liberation—not compliance or fear.
  
• The history and heart of the United Church of Christ—a tradition that has never been afraid to stand on the edge of what’s next and say, “God is still speaking.”
  
• A way of reading Scripture that doesn’t use fear as a weapon but sets people free. The kind of good news that overturns tables, lifts up the oppressed, and refuses to bow to those who cling to power like an idol.

Lessons like these are rare in the church landscape most of our kids are swimming in, which is exactly why they matter. And what they receive from us and what we receive from them as these lessons are imparted is mutual. It’s shared formation. It’s how a community like ours grows up together, no matter our ages.

This is why inter-generational relationships matter. Not because they’re quaint or nostalgic, but because they shape us. They show us who we are. They remind us that faith isn’t an individual sport or something we “graduate” from. It’s shared life. Shared stories. Shared courage.

So this Sunday, when the kids lead us in worship, remember: They’re not performing for us. They’re revealing something about God—about honesty, joy, presence, and the kind of community Jesus keeps trying to build in spite of us and, sometimes, through us. 

Will everything go smoothly? Probably not. But honestly, even when we adults are running the show, perfection is NEVER the goal. The goal has always been about real people, showing up in real and honest ways, to worship and get to know a real, loving, God better. 

I hope you’ll make plans to join us this Sunday for a very special worship service and our craft fellowship time afterward—making Christmas cards for home-bound members, sharing stories, and building relationships across generations. And who knows? Somewhere in the middle of everything this Sunday brings—the wonder, the chaos, the delight—the laughter of our children might just remind us how we used to be. And maybe, if we let it, how we could be again.

On the journey with you,
Pr. Melissa

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