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Are We Teaching our Kids to Worship?

Little Eyes Are Watching in Worship

Three small communion cups, drained empty, are stacked together in my hand.
My two little girls sit on my right, not so little anymore. From the middle of the country, in small-town America, they drank with me from these cups. The eyes of the world couldn’t be further from us here, a place where no politician rallies for votes, no business builds its headquarters, and no rich man invests his money.
Beneath us, orange pew pads clash with the blue carpet of our sanctuary floor. A drop-ceiling sags overhead, stained from damage caused by winter leaks around the steeple base. Surrounding us are wooden panels, painted white in our modest attempt to emerge from mid-twentieth-century décor.
Our little town is six thousand miles from Jerusalem, from the humble hill outside the city where Jesus died, and it seems like no one on earth pays attention to us. An earthquake could tear the foundations out from under us, and we’d still have only a small chance of making the evening news.
We could not be more remotely dislocated from any sort of central importance, and yet, the Lord Jesus is among us (Matthew 18:20).

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