The Dropping Off of the Church’s Children

Even if I did not have the statistics from Barna to back it up, I’ve got the experience of a mother, the education of a teacher, and the reality of being on staff and teaching at churches of all sizes, all over, for a lot of years to tell me something isn’t working.

 

Children attend more but know less. Parents drop off more but disciple less. We are forsaking the youth of today and the church leaders of tomorrow by not prioritizing right things, in right ways, right now.

 

But we have coffee bars, which I do love! But coffee bars can’t do what Monday–Friday and Sunday morning refuse to. Not even with a croissant.

 

The Lord used a few things to brew urgency and ground my fleshy resistance and stubborn pride to a fine but bold roast. My kids were in first and second grade when I signed up to help at VBS as a coordinator for those grades.

 

We now had two years of everyone in school and I was feeling able to take on a little more without fear of drowning. I wasn’t sure what I had said yes to but my normal posture when the Spirit leads is, “Equipped for nothing but ready for anything!” I can promise nothing of value to any given cause, but I will show up excited and expectant. So, that’s something right?!

 

The teacher in me wanted to have lots of information and organization, I kept watching for an email or training session as the year ticked down the days of spring. The day before VBS started, I was panicked. My only context was old-school VBS from our FBC Downtown days. It was the full-court press, whole enchilada of planning, foofing, and room decorating. It was entire teams that had worked together for years swarming and sweating until a whole new world was created out of streamers, balloons, and dollar store mishmash. Hustle, bustle, muscle, and poof! A hallway now looked like the outback or orient and was ready to receive all.

 

It was also ten years since those days and a lot had changed about church in that amount of time. My job this go round was way easier and tidier. Just keep everyone on schedule. Done! Easy peasy! We were off and running.

 

It was interesting to see how much technology had changed things and how different church cultures affected events and plans.

I loved seeing young people serving but I missed seeing the senior adults around. I loved what our facility allowed us to do but I was looking at little bitty friends who weren’t sure what to make of the dark and loud rallies.

 

I looked forward to getting to know other parents but realized quickly they were dropping off but not really staying or hanging out.

 

But even then, these are my favorite times in any given Body—people coming together, working alongside, seeing kids excited about Jesus, seeing new leaders being made… go home tired, come back excited… all the Chick-Fil-A. It’s all my favorite things.

 

I was even more excited to learn there was a Gospel Team that would take the reigns on our decision day. Of all the things I new for sure I was neither ready for nor equipped for, presenting the Gospel in a way that six-year-olds would understand was outside of my wheelhouse. Well outside. And down the road a ways in someone else’s wheelhouse.

 

I was so ready for the last day. I felt we had laid good groundwork, reviewed, clarified, and were ready to see decisions. Morning rally, done. Missions, done. We needed to adjust the schedule for water day. Totally fine, we will make it up and have plenty of time for the Gospel Team. Snack, done. Music, done. I started to get nervous looking down the schedule and seeing the last couple of hours slipping away.

 

They will catch us outside. Perfect! We will sit under the big tree with our popsicles. They will catch us at the end of our water time. Still okay, we can make it work. Water time came and went.

 

Maybe during the closing rally we are going to do a little pull-aside? Song, song, game, video, offering totals. Done. The day ended.

 

At song number two I tried to find somebody and flag them down to tell them we hadn’t presented the Gospel yet. But everyone was scattered, and parents were now showing up.

 

When the last lanyard was handed back to me and the last hug and high-five given, I sat in the back of the auditorium and cried.

 

How could I have had seventy children with me for five days and never make it to the most important part? I was so embarrassed and ashamed. I usually avoid crying at church lest someone assume a divorce is on the horizon. But that day I just sobbed and sobbed until there were no tears left.

 

I begged the Lord for forgiveness, I thought back through the days and regretted every wasted minute. I began to resent the fun we had in rec, and condemn the cutesy crafts.

 

Hey, Followers, what in the world were we doing? How could we have missed having the only conversation that mattered?

 

And this was at a great church, with great people doing great things. It certainly wasn’t intentional. It both was and wasn’t one specific reason. It was staff spread thin, busy summers, volunteers on vacations, miscommunication, facility schedules, emergencies…there were several reasons and they all made sense.

 

But they didn’t make it right.

 

More importantly, we failed to make the main thing, the main thing. How could the whole point of VBS get lost on a spreadsheet of times, places, and slip ‘n slides? What was the point of any of it if not to give the opportunity to trust Christ as Savior? Not only did we not land the plane, we crashed it on the runway mere feet from the arrival gate.

 

I had been trusted to be a good steward, but I absolutely didn’t feel faithful. I was not comforted at all by the reassurance that we would follow up with everyone on Sunday.

 

Didn’t anyone else know that Sunday doesn’t always come?

I packed up my hall, picked up my kids from The Dump, and went home broken.