The little girl in front of me is about 2 or 3 years old. On stage, the praise team gets ready to lead the congregation into worship, and we are asked to stand. In church with her mom and dad, the girl impatiently tugs on her dad’s coat and asks to be lifted up; soon her little head rests on his right shoulder. With her hands clasped behind her dad’s neck and the lower part of her face hidden behind her arm, she looks at me. I sing. I keep on singing. But although I look at the words on the screen in front, I cannot help but sense her constant staring at me, making me oddly aware of my jaws opening and closing and the sound coming out of my mouth.
She is a pretty girl with long blond hair and blue eyes. Oddly, her eyes give the impression she is not looking at me but, in a strange, unfocused way, through me. What might she be looking at? Shortly after the last song and the children’s story, she joins a large group of little ones and leaves for kids’ church.
The brief happening stayed with me throughout the day, and it dawned on me that rather than my being the focus of the girl’s attention, something entirely different had been going on. I suddenly wondered if, with her little head so close to where her dad’s singing voice had been resonating, the old, sacred Words of Life had blended with the harmonious sounds of the faithful to find a conduit, a mysterious, holy pathway to the little girl’s soul. And then I could not help but wonder if it’s possible that those of us who cannot recall a time when they accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior might have been called by God in this way!
Of course there is no way of knowing this, I have shared this idea and it has sparked interesting conversations. If nothing else, it would give legitimacy to the thought that it is good for our children to be together with Mom and/or Dad in the “big” church for at least a little while. And it might even be food for thought for those of us who now or in the past have had questions about the doctrine of election.
After church I caught a glance of the same little girl. She was skipping around with some other kids as if nothing had happened.
Did it?
About the Author
Frank DeVries is a past principal of Christian schools in Wyoming, Ont., Houston, B.C., and Vancouver, B.C. He and his wife, Celia, attend Fleetwood Christian Reformed Church in Surrey, B.C.
