Ashes and nail polish

For the past several years working and volunteering in various churches, one thing I avoided like the plague was the children's sermon. Every once in a while I was offered the chance to do one, and I would worm out of it as subtly as possible with an excuse like "it's just not my gift." Once or twice I wasn't able to worm far enough, and so I was stuck in front of the whole church, awkwardly rambling about Jesus while kids played hide and seek under the chairs.

It's not that I don't like kids. I love them. But I suppose I didn't have any confidence in my ability to communicate with them in groups, and especially in front of a crowd of adults.

Now it is my job to do the children's sermon almost every week, and in spite of myself, I have discovered I enjoy it. In a way, it's not so different from preaching to adults. No matter who you're preaching to, it is the preacher's job to figure out what God is saying in a certain scripture to his or her particular congregation, and communicate it in a way that is relevant. That comes out looking different for kids, but the process is similar.

I'm learning to go with the flow and be ready to improvise. Yesterday at the 8:15 service I sat on the chancel steps with a bowl of ashes left over from Wednesday's service, and two little girls came up and joined me (most of the kids come to the 11:00). I showed them the ashes and explained what they were, and asked if they knew what we used ashes for in church.

And one little girl eagerly extended her hand and replied, "Do you like my nail polish?!!!"

I did. It was sparkly.

And that's what I love about children's sermons, though it is hard to explain why. I love that they put me right in the middle of the immediacy and the urgency of whatever the kids are excited about at the time. I love that they force me to let go of the importance of my own message for a moment, and to instead celebrate something a child wants to share. I love that I am becoming more comfortable without having an exact plan.

I did, of course, steer the lesson back to my bowl of ashes. And maybe that little girl will remember something about ashes and Lent and saying we're sorry, or maybe not yet. But if nothing else I hope she'll grow up knowing that church is a place where people like her nail polish.