Why I Still Go to Church
by Melody Tan | 23 October 2024 |
Saturday—Sabbath—mornings are often chaotic in our household. Sure, we all get to enjoy a little bit of a sleep-in because we don’t have to leave the house as early as we normally do on a weekday, but it’s all systems go, shortly after waking.
After a leisurely breakfast together as a family, we often find ourselves hastily trying to get ready to leave the house for church. There are usually snacks and lunches to pack, the special Sabbath activity bag to find and inevitably, the weekly “Can you please wear something more presentable?” argument with my son.
One may point out it’s chaotic probably because we drop the ball on the Friday night, but let’s not try to problem-solve here (wink). Friday evening rolls around and my husband and I are generally lulled into a false sense of relaxation, as our subconsciouses recognise the start of the Sabbath, a day of rest. We are simply incapable of being as organised or efficient as we usually are the rest of the week.
The half-hour drive to church somewhat calms us down, as we chat about various things as a family. Chaos, however, takes on a whole new form when we arrive at church. Sabbath school is usually fine, as my son joins his primary class, and my husband and I participate in the adult one.
The challenge comes during the main church service. As an eight-year-old, my son is still learning to appreciate the nuances, learnings and significance one can glean from a sermon. As a result, it has been more than eight years since I paid complete attention to a sermon at church. Often, I am unable to recall its point because I haven’t listened closely enough.
To be fair, it is getting better as my son grows and gains more independence. While I no longer need to be completely engaged in what he is doing, there is still a fair amount of “management” that needs to happen in the pew. Listening to a sermon can be challenging for an adult, what more a naturally active child who loves being outdoors where he can run, climb or jump.
Sometimes a church friend would join my son at our pew, or my son would join their family. While that helps, since they entertain each other with a variety of activities, any parent would know it’s still impossible to pay complete attention to anything. Part of your brain is constantly assessing if your child is being too loud or too distracting. And your child will still come to you for some need or reason.
Inevitably, regardless of what my son could be engaged in, he will complain that church is “boring” and pair it with “can we go home?” requests. Often in the middle of a sermon.
The church I attend doesn’t have a “cry room,” nor does it run a separate church just for children. While part of the reason is practical, we also made the conscious decision to include our children in the main church service (even encouraging the younger ones to collect the offering and the older ones to sing, pray or run the PA system). The reason why is the same reason why I persist with going to church, despite that I seemingly gain no spiritual enrichment doing so and would probably enjoy a far better day of rest by staying home.
Church is for community.
Yes, our children are often too young to recognize the spiritual significance of attending church.
No, our children often don’t understand or are interested in the sermon because it’s not delivered at their level.
And our children may not gain much spiritual upliftment from the song service, because some of the language is too advanced.
But our children understand what it feels like to belong and to be accepted, and being a part of a church family, regularly meeting the same people at church, tells them they belong and are accepted.
At church, we want them to be a part of what we do and sure, things can get noisy and distracting sometimes, but letting children know they are valued is far more important than our own comfort levels. (I should probably point out that for the most part, the noise levels are minimal for the church in general. Things are distracting, but only for parents in their respective pews because of the aforementioned reasons.)
My son may not enjoy listening to the sermon now, but I’d like to think that as he gets older, he’ll be able to appreciate and understand it better. While church service may be “boring”, it’s only for one hour, as opposed to the rest of the afternoon when he’s allowed to have some fun with the other kids after church.
And while I don’t get the spiritual nourishment I used to get before my son was born, I will continue to go to church because it’s a part of what we do as a family and because being—and staying—a Christian is as much about the theology as it is about the relationships and spiritual habits.
My son may choose a different path when he grows up but at least he’d have gotten a glimpse of what it’s like to be a part of a community that’s loves, accepts and encourages him. (That is not to say whatever community he chooses to be a part of in the future lacks love, acceptance or encouragement. But at least he has had a positive experience in a Christian one too.)
As for his—and my—spirituality? It’s far easier to access age-appropriate content online now than even a mere 20 years ago. He goes to a fantastic school that does a wonderful job teaching him about Jesus, and we often have deep and meaningful spiritual conversations at home.
At this point in time, church isn’t for spiritual food (it will hopefully return to that in the near future). Church is and for community.
I am keenly aware my opinion is from a privileged and biased position. I recognize how lucky I am to have found a church community that I feel accepted and proud of. My church isn’t perfect—none are—but it tries its best. I know there are many who can’t find a church family to belong to, not for lack of trying. I don’t have an easy solution for this, except to say persisting in a toxic community isn’t healthy and sometimes, the only way for things to get better is to leave and find a different, more supportive group. It is important however, for our own mental wellbeing, to try to find a community, and not try to do it alone. Sometimes, that requires going against what is normally expected. Often, it will require creativity.
Melody Tan is a freelance writer, content creator, and editor for both print and digital. She is currently the project leader of Mums At The Table, a multimedia initiative aimed at supporting mothers in their parenting journey, through education and community. She and her husband live in Sydney, Australia, with their seven-year-old son.