Children are wonderful

reminders that God has a sense of humor. When I was a

youth pastor many centuries ago, I was processing into

the Sunday morning service with the senior pastor who

suddenly said, "Oh, gee, David, I forgot! It's Girl

Scout Sunday."

Sure enough, some two or

three dozen little girls dressed in green or brown were

sitting in the middle of the congregation.

"So?" I replied uncomprehendingly.

"So, you need to put

together a children's sermon. Fast!"

It had been our custom to

present a children's sermon every other week during the

offertory. This was not one of those weeks. "No

problem," I lied. "I'll be right back."

I rushed to my office to

try to compose a children's sermon in about four minutes

and gathered several props into a cardboard box. On the

way out, I picked up a trash can as well. The children

gathered around me during the appointed moment in the

service and I began to teach them of the need to give all

totally to God. I set the trash can in the midst of the

children and reached into the cardboard box as I said,

"We need to give to God everything in our

past."

Solemnly, I placed a

history book in the trash can. "We also need to give

God our achievements," I stated, as I withdrew a

trophy from the box and dropped it into the can. As I

eased a diploma into the can, I said, rather seriously,

"We need to give God our minds." After a few

more items made their way into the trash can, I

concluded, "But what we really need to do - what God

really wants - is that we give him ourselves."

I was very pleased with

myself until little Andy Rowlett said, "Gee, Mr.

Dave, I hope you don't give yourself to God. You'd need a

dipsty dumpster!"

In this same church a few

months later, I was doing a children's sermon on

"Surrender to God." The plan was this - I would

have one of the kids stand up and turn around to face

away from me. I would put a toy gun in his back and

shout, "This is a stickup. Put `em up!" The

child would, of course, raise his hands to the sky,

indicating total surrender and compliance. Right.

Not learning from my first

experience, I picked Andy to be the holdup victim. I

stuck the gun in his back and shouted my script. To my

surprise and horror, Andy let out a bloodcurdling scream,

spun around, and kicked me soundly on the shin. I dropped

the gun, grimaced in pain, and, amidst gales of laughter

coming from the congregation, hobbled away. I changed the

sermon to "Resist the Devil and He Shall Flee from

You."

Children also remind us

that our message isn't always as clear as we'd like to

think it is. In one church, a favorite chorus that we

would sing was, "Exalt the Lord Our God." One

little girl sang with all her might her favorite song,

"Exhaust the Lord Our God." It made me wonder

if much of our worship, meant to glorify God, resulted in

only tiring Him out!

One little boy loved to

sing about the animals in heaven. I was confounded until

he began to sing it for me. The song he was referring to

went, "The cloud of glory is moving. Move with the

cloud, move with the cloud." With great gusto and

delight, the little lad sang, "The cows of glory are

mooing. Moo with the cows, moo with the cows."

Children can humble us like

no one else can. One day at the church I served, Timmy

Creamer shook my hand and said, "Good morning,

God!" I looked questioningly at his parents who

explained that they had told Timmy they were going to

God's house on Sundays. This was God's house. I was up

front talking. Therefore, in Timmy's mind, I must be God.

No amount of persuasion could change Timmy's mind. For

over a year, he called me "God." Nothing will

destroy one's pride more than to have a child look at you

as though you are God.

Children are so wonderful

and precious. Each Sunday, I call all the children

together during the service and, before they go to their

lesson, thank God that He has given these kids to their

families, to the Church, and to the earth. We pray for

all children (even, and especially, the unborn,

"Whose name You know and whose purposes You hold in

Your hand.") and ask that, when they are old, their

testimony will be, "There's never been a day in all

my life I didn't know and love Jesus with all my

heart." After all, it was He who said, "Let the

children come to me for of such is the Kingdom of

Heaven."

We devalue children in this

country. Much of the time, even in Church, the children

are an inconvenience to be shuttled away to a place that

is far away from the rest of the church family. We punish

parents who try to be close to their children by denying

college admission (at many, if not most, state schools in

Georgia) to students who have been home-schooled. We save

whales, trees, and snail darters while aborting 39

million of our young. As a society, we beat, neglect,

abuse, abandon, and murder our children in

ever-increasing numbers. And then we wonder why they vent

their violence on other children.

It's past time to listen to

our children. It's past time to hold them, spend time

with them, and just plain love them. After all, they have

so much to teach us. And, anyway, you might be the

closest thing to God they've seen lately.

[Father

David Epps is rector of Christ the King Church which

meets Sundays at 10 a.m. in the Carmichael-Hemperley

chapel on Ga. Highway 74 in Peachtree City. He may be

contacted at www.ChristTheKingCEC.com or at [email protected] ].