Let the little children come unto me .... Why noisy children in church are a good thing.

I was sat in Divine Liturgy today. Well. I use the word sat liberally ... i was squatting, standing, kneeling, wrestling, rocking , shhhh'ing and sighing and sometimes sitting. I saw many smiles as I endeavored to maintain peace among my brood.

I had a feeling our mid - litirgy circus was not amusing or endearing to a lady in the pew behind me. It became evident when the command to offer the sign of peace was given, and she merely glared at me and didn't offer her hand ... but to everyone else she did.  Every mishap, saw a more intense pursing of the lips. ( Note. We were Eastern Catholic at the time I wrote this,  I have a habit back then of using the term mass and DL interchangeably, if you will forgive me!) 

There would have been a time when this broke my heart ... in an I'm never going back to church until my children are 18 kind of way  ... but something I have learnt is how much Jesus delights in His little children and instead, I smiled, because I knew our little busy family's antics were a little thread in the sanctifying work in the hearts of every soul that heard the cries or observed the perpetual movement and so I smiled, and crossed for the lady of pursed lips, for I knew that Jesus would be working in her hardened displeasure.

Sometimes, during an especially challenging service, I meditate on our Lord's words in Matthew:

"Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

Here is what Jesus did NOT say ...

"Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them unless they are noisy or naughty and won't disturb or bother anyone, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

You see, I know three things

1) That God made those little innocent children and He knows exactly what they are like
2) That Jesus himself was a little child sat in the synagogue.
3) Mother Mary held a babe in arms.

And I'm pretty certain that Jesus and our Mother Mary smile with great affection at our little ones in liturgy!

Then, because I'm often too distracted to hear the homily or to meditate on all the beautiful prayers and scriptures ...and anger and frustration can often start to creep in ... I start to fill my heart and mind with all the way's my noisy child is sanctifying my own soul and that of everyone else in the liturgy.

I feel the anger rising and He reminds me to be slow to anger.

I am weary but He encourages me to persevere as I notice the stations of the cross in which He falls again and again but picks up the cross and keeps walking.

My pregnant body aches but He offers me strength to keep going as I observe the marks on his back, on his hands and feet ....

I feel judged but He tells me how despite His perfection He was persecuted, and no matter how hard I try to be Holy, that I will never escape judgement and criticism

I want to give up and walk out but He reminds me how He never gives up on me.

I feel that I have nothing left to give but He gave the ultimate sacrifice in His crucifixion.

I see the icons of the saints and am reminded that they were were not born pious and holy but taught about their faith by spiritual or biological mothers and fathers.

I see the priest lift up His broken body and the precious blood and all my excuses and complaints disappear and I walk towards the priest to receive my Lord ..

I am brought to tears my the blessing it is to stand before Jesus with my children.

I look around me with joy because with each cry and protest I see ....

The old mothers whose children have grown up and moved away who long for the days in which they felt the warmth of a child's sweet kisses upon their cheeks.

The lady who never was able to have a child of her own whose heart breaks with the joy it would have been to have managed through the divine liturgy with a baby rather than sat there with empty arms.

The father who lost a child and remembers sitting there with his son, wishing he could turn back time.

The men who have watched the pews become empty and worry about the future of the parish without children and they see the future of the Church in my arms.

I think of the priest who can only pray and hope that in his pews are future vocations and that these children won't become victim to the culture of death and self satisfaction.

A reminder to all that our very Lord and Saviour was a baby, vulnerable and innocent yet came to die.

I see the lady with the pursed lips and my heart warms towards her as I realize all the ways my heart hardens against that which is beautiful and I am so thankful for His grace and love regardless of my sinfulness.

And then as the divine liturgy ends ... my child settles ... she is singing in jibberish sweetly with the hymn book in hands, smiling at me, so pleased with herself.

The little boy who couldn't stay in his seat leans against me and smiles with adoration.

And my big girls who whispered and bickered and now glowing with the peace that only comes immediately after receiving Eucharist.

The truth is ... sometimes children seem to disturb liturgy, but I believe, that God gives us these little ones who He made with loud cries and a desire to be curious and move to sanctify us all and remind us, that life is precious.

And a church filled with crying babies is a greater gift to the world than a church filled with silent pews with no families.