Yesterday was a very special Sunday for me because of a small boy. I don't know much about him as I have never seen him before, but he reminded me of something yesterday for which I am very grateful.
As many small boys are apt to do, this boy was quickly and easily bored soon after the church services began. His mother had an array of books and things with which to focus his attention. Unfortunately, the small boys on the pew in front of him were ready to tempt his stomach with crackers and the nature of the meeting was one ill likely to capture his attention.
Suddenly, without any warning, he abandoned everything else and crossed the empty space to the right of his mother to my friend Gavin who was seated just to my left. Gavin pulled a small children's book of the life of Christ from his pocket, opened it, and showed it to the boy who declared, without reservation or the hushed tones normally thought of as reverence, "That's Jesus." I smiled.
My smile returned to stay when, after the boy briefly went to his mother, he returned. On the way, he passed the toys, the crackers offered by the boys in the other pew, and everything else, pointed at Gavin and said, "I'm back. Where's Jesus?" The reason why this particular event meant so much to me is simple. This boy was at church for the right reason. His quest went by friends and fun and food and frolic. He was looking for Christ.
The Psalmist wrote of how powerful things would be from the mouths of babes. This small boy transformed my Sunday worship because he was there for the right reason. He was there to find the Savior.
As many small boys are apt to do, this boy was quickly and easily bored soon after the church services began. His mother had an array of books and things with which to focus his attention. Unfortunately, the small boys on the pew in front of him were ready to tempt his stomach with crackers and the nature of the meeting was one ill likely to capture his attention.
Suddenly, without any warning, he abandoned everything else and crossed the empty space to the right of his mother to my friend Gavin who was seated just to my left. Gavin pulled a small children's book of the life of Christ from his pocket, opened it, and showed it to the boy who declared, without reservation or the hushed tones normally thought of as reverence, "That's Jesus." I smiled.
My smile returned to stay when, after the boy briefly went to his mother, he returned. On the way, he passed the toys, the crackers offered by the boys in the other pew, and everything else, pointed at Gavin and said, "I'm back. Where's Jesus?" The reason why this particular event meant so much to me is simple. This boy was at church for the right reason. His quest went by friends and fun and food and frolic. He was looking for Christ.
The Psalmist wrote of how powerful things would be from the mouths of babes. This small boy transformed my Sunday worship because he was there for the right reason. He was there to find the Savior.
1 comment:
And that is why I love Primary (and why I am struggling so hard with my Primary calling being in the Stake right now.) I love that the children come to find Jesus. LOVE it.
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