Why No Sermons?

Many years ago, an afternoon study at one of our churches was announced. They wanted to educate on autism as a mother of an autistic boy was being condemned for (I think) not attending church.

I felt sorry for her, but only after my special kiddies joined the family did her struggles make even more sense. Before my twins were born, my children stayed for the entire service. And my middle two would constantly be up and down, ostensibly going to the loo. (I knew it was ‘boredom’) They did the same during children’s class too. And would blurt out random comments that had nothing to do with the story.

I stopped making them attend the sermon. They weren’t gaining anything. They were distracting the congregation. And even Sabbath school isn’t every week. Half the time we stay home. Why make them sit for hours? I’d ask them what they heard and they’d not recall a thing. Why force them?

This Sabbath, they went to an afternoon study presented by their dad, who had been asked to speak about health. My eight year old said she enjoyed it because she could understand what he was saying, unlike other speakers she’d heard at church. (See? Another sign that sermon is too much.) But when I asked both her and her seven year old brother what they learnt, from that whole talk, they recalled only one line. “You must stretch before you exercise.” And that wasn’t even what their dad said, it was a comment from the floor. I know that even if they can’t repeat what they hear, something goes in, but that ‘something they gain’ is just fine coming from the story in the children’s lesson.

And so for now, my little ones (minus their ‘super crying, can’t sit still, can’t handle much’ autistic sister who stays home permanently) only go for the last half of Sabbath school, and class. And when we are home and I’m teaching, I know exactly what they are taking in because I take it to their ability, keep my sentences short and ask them to tell me what they’ve heard so I can be sure they understand.

Why am I sharing this? Because of an American mom who used to read my first blog. She felt seen. She too couldn’t stay at church with her autistic son. And she felt scared that somehow God wouldn’t get it. But if I could, it showed her that she wasn’t in the wrong. God knows what our children can handle. He also knows the worship experience is for us adults too. Trying to keep a runner from running means you’re not listening much anyway. Trying to concentrate while your child is uncomfortable is nearly impossible. Forcing your child to endure what they shouldn’t be, is cruel. And so, though I’m no priest or prophet, I give any other mom permission to worship the best way possible. At home, I can read the Word during nap time. And my children can understand better when I teach. And that’s what matters most.