Of Her Big Decision

About a year ago, we were in our pretty new house and one afternoon I was changing a boy's dirty diaper (ah the glamour of motherhood) when from the next room I heard my beautiful five-year-old call out from the comfort of her tiny pink armchair, "I just asked God to come into my heart!"

Wait, what?!

I had a panicked moment of realizing I needed to finish the task at hand - hello, poopy bottom - while my daughter was apparently having a spiritual epiphany next door.

"Baby, wait right there! I'll be there in a minute and we can talk about it!"

I wasn't prepared for this moment. I mean, really, was not prepared for my daughter to just pronounce this simple little act as something to be done as swiftly and matter of course as brushing one's teeth. I knew, at five years of age, she probably did not know quite what she was doing, but at the same time, why couldn't it be that simple? Why couldn't she decide in the simplicity of her little purple bedroom to follow Jesus for the rest of forever? And if she made that decision, why shouldn't she follow through?

But wasn't it supposed to be more complicated than this? Weren't we supposed to have a heart to heart? Weren't we supposed to lead her in some prayer or something?

So, I was torn - between the organic nature of a child making her own decisions, and recognizing the weight of this sort of decision and the gravity with which this decision should be handled.

Of course, we talked - I told her if she was really ready to make this step we would talk with our pastor so he could help her understand what this meant.

Now, it's important to understand that at this time in our lives we were attending our church's Saturday evening service - so, while our church's typical Sunday morning crowd averaged about 400 attendees per service, we were used to sitting in the second row of a congregation of about two dozen every Saturday night. And after nearly every service our little precocious one was always so eager to go tell Bro. Todd whatever her news for the week was - whether it meant showing him her new Bible or her new shoes. She loved talking to him.

But when I suggested talking to him about this most important decision, one she should be thrilled about, she suddenly resisted. Deciding, nevermind, she didn't really want to be a Christian.  I was baffled, but didn't push.

Later, in talking to our pastor's wife, she told me this was usually a good indication if a child was "ready" - because if she truly wanted to become a follower of Jesus, nothing would stop her - not even talking to Bro. Todd.

Thus, we continued to wait. I wasn't eager to push her too early, anyhow.

Fast forward a year, and many spiritual conversations, later, to Good Friday.

We began the day discussing what the significance was. She had read on her calendar that it was the day before "Passover Begins" - so we talked about Passover. She has always been a big fan of the story of the Israelites putting blood on their doorways so the Angel of Death would not kill the firstborn sons in those homes. Yet, when I asked her if she remembered what Passover meant, she began with, "It's when Jesus took the bread and said, 'This is my body, if you do this you will be part of me.' and he took the wine and said, 'This is my blood . . .'"

Here is where I want to thank the amazing staff of our children's department at church - because I never taught her this part of the story. These are all words she clearly must have learned in Sunday School.

Of course, we discussed that further and went about our day. Later, we discussed that at the service that evening we would have The Lord's Supper but they would not have any because it's only for those who have made the decision to follow Christ. I was really trying to prepare them for the moment of the passing of the plate when crackers and juice would pass them by and Mommy and Daddy wouldn't let them have some. Because no one needs to deal with an Emmett who isn't getting a snack when they're trying to focus on the body and blood of Christ.

But, then, the natural consequence of my warning was that everyone suddenly wanted to become a Christian - it's all about that bread and juice (or bread and wine, as Micaiah continued to emphasize). Which meant, of course, I had to spend the next hour or so convincing Emmett that he couldn't become a Christian just to have food in service.

And the subject was dropped.

Until another couple of hours passed and Micaiah, always loving to just drop the spiritual bomb as if it's nothing, came marching down the stairs with the broadest grin I'd seen on her face in a long time, and declared, "I just went upstairs and asked God to come into my heart - and now I'm a Christian! And now we can talk to Bro. Todd and I can get baptized!"

Well, now I was torn. Because here I was, yet again, caught unaware, and not sure where to go from here. On the one hand, that was really exciting news. On the other hand - was she, too, just looking for that bread and wine? And why couldn't she ever do this when her father was home?! So I sent her back upstairs where she and I could talk.

I asked her multiple questions, such as what it meant to ask God into her heart, why she wanted to do so, etc. And the whole time, she had the most brilliant smile on her face. I can describe it as none other than a Holy Spirit change.

And sure enough, as she finished out the afternoon, her attitude (which we'd been fighting with all week) was completely changed. She was helpful and kind and there was always that smile (even days later, when a friend of ours commented to her about how polite she had been, her response was, "It's because I'm a Christian").

At church that evening, she was eager to tell everyone, "I'm a Christian now!" and even continued to ask, "When will I get to tell Bro. Todd?!" (which we did immediately following the service). And after much deliberation, she even was allowed to have her first taste of the Lord's Supper (and when I say much deliberation, I mean, she didn't even get to have her own bread, because I didn't decide until after the plate had passed and I finally tore mine in two to share with her), because I realized I didn't need to wait for her to understand what it meant - she had already told me that morning.

And that everlasting smile - the joy of a changed heart - would not leave her beaming face.

Which may have only been slightly eclipsed by the cries of her brother as we left church that evening, "But I didin't get anything to eat!"

What have we become?

I am saddened by my generation - a generation that pays lip-service to a God who is little more than a label for them to wear proudly on their chests - when it's convenient. I look around at the Youth Group culture I grew up in and see little evidence of lives changed. I find it difficult to differentiate among the muck and mire that crowds around me where the secular world ends and the "Christian" begins. I have been blessed by a great number of friends who have represented to me what it means to live a life void of self and completely devoted to Christ. Yet, at the same time, I look around myself at others I grew up with, attended church with - in various settings, and yet, seem to have completely melted into their surroundings - indistinguishable from the world.

It makes me sad and slightly disgusted to see those who "grew up in the church" proudly displaying photos of a night out on the town - including bar visits, a few shots, and a little bit of lewd dancing thrown in for "fun." I might be able to understand these actions if they were maybe justified with the excuse of "blending in" to "reach" non-Christian friends - we can't separate ourselves "too much", right? If we want to reach others - this is the only way. After all - our friends won't be our friends if we act too Christian -right? But even if this lame excuse were pulled out of the back pocket for some, the majority I've taken note of are outings such as these shared exclusively among a group of "Christian" friends.

See, I grew up in a "Christian" culture where the cool "Christian" thing to do was not be too "religious." Which is absolutely fine when you're distinguishing between a "religion" and a "relationship", but when you're attempting to determine which direction your actions need to take - working out your faith with fear and trembling should not be taken off the list. We should not have to blend in with the culture around us in order to be considered "cool" at church. Since when is it considered lame, boring or nerdy to actually go to church to worship God? To take your walk with Christ seriously? In the youth groups I grew up in, those who did such "radical" things were the ones who found themselves sitting alone. Youth Group was for hanging out with friends and church camp was for meeting cute members of the opposite sex and getting their phone numbers so you could have something to brag about when you got back to the youth group and a little something exciting to look forward to, at least through September. It's a little sad, isn't it?

If someone struggling through life finds the same types of attitudes at church that they find in school or the workplace - what's the point? They can be shunned just as easily there - they don't need to get up early on Sunday morning for that.

It is these same youth group members who are now growing up - going to college and doing the same things they've always done - in essence, the same thing everyone else is doing. They refer to each other, sisters in Christ, as "ho," "whore," or worse. They tease each other, making crude references to sex - which is cool as long as everyone knows you're not actually having any. If that makes you uncomfortable than you're just a little too prudish. Roll with the times, won't you?

How are we supposed to be Christ to others when they see no difference in us at all? When the non-Christian next to you at the bar sees nothing to distinguish between you and he besides that silly label (if you're even wearing it tonight - or have you hidden it? Just for now? No need to announce Who we're supposed to represent, right? Don't want to scare anyone off, now do we?). If your only source of a good time is at the bottom of the bottle or in sliding against the guy next to you on the dance floor - then that's the best anyone else has to hope for, too, right?

I do not say any of this from a soapbox or false, lofty, ivory tower. I am not perfect - I do not always proudly flash my label, either. And, yet, even without the Christian name tag - even if you are not shouting from the rooftops that Jesus Christ is Lord of your life - your life should shout it anyway - through actions - those speak louder than words, anyway, right?

"Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: . . . to keep oneself unstained by the world." - James 1:27