“Let the Children Come”

A Back-to-School Reflection on God’s Presence and Our Communal Call

August and September arrive like a threshold. One season gives way to another. The rhythms of summer and its slower pace, long evenings and looser schedules, begin to fade. In their place come sharpened pencils, schedules pinned to refrigerators, early alarms, and new shoes that don’t yet have dirt on them.

This time of year is filled with change. Some of it is exciting new beginnings, fresh notebooks, eager anticipation. Some of it brings anxiety like those first days, unknown classmates, academic pressure, shifting routines. And for many, especially our children, it is all of that at once.

At its core, this season reminds us that life does not stand still. And yet, in the midst of this seasonal shift, God is not absent. In fact, God is deeply present, woven into each bus stop wave, each lunchbox packed with care, each anxious first step into a classroom. God meets us in the newness, in the worry, in the growth.

Jesus himself understood the sacredness of childhood. In Mark 10:13–16, we hear a familiar and tender story:

"People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, 'Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.'”

These are strong words. Indignant. Jesus doesn’t just gently correct the disciples. He is moved with righteous anger that children would be pushed aside. And then, he does something radical: he centers them. He lifts them up not as future participants in God’s work but as central to God’s kingdom right now. Their presence is not an interruption; it is an essential revelation of what the kingdom is like.

And so, as we move into this new school year, we’re invited to consider how we, as a congregation, can follow Jesus' lead.

A Community That Sees and Welcomes Children

At CHLC, we are committed to being a community where children are seen, welcomed, and included just as they are. This is not just about making space, it is about making meaning. Children are not simply the “future of the church.” They are the church. Now. Their questions, their giggles, their wiggles, their wonder, their deep and often unfiltered spiritual insight - these are gifts to the whole body of Christ.

Welcoming children isn’t just about a friendly smile in the sanctuary or a Sunday school hour (though both matter!). It’s about creating a culture of deep belonging. It means understanding that a child talking during worship is not a distraction - it’s participation. It means recognizing that their art, their prayers, and their voices have something to teach us about God. It means making room in our liturgy, in our leadership, and in our hearts for them to show up fully.

To “let the children come” is to let them be whole people in our midst - not asking them to perform adult expectations, but to be curious, joyful, frustrated, growing. To be loved not for what they will become but for who they already are.

The Spiritual Work of Presence

This season also invites us into a spiritual practice that is harder than it sounds: being present.

Presence is more than physical attendance. It is attentiveness. It is choosing to slow down enough to notice. It is resisting the urge to rush from one thing to the next and instead pausing long enough to ask: Where is God moving in this moment? What might this child, this season, this change be revealing to me? Jesus was so often interrupted and yet he was fully present. He allowed himself to be moved by the cries of a parent, the questions of a child, the touch of the desperate. Presence is powerful. It communicates: you matter.

This fall, as to-do lists grow and schedules fill up, perhaps we are being called not to do more, but to be more fully with - especially with the children in our lives and in our church. To ask them how they’re doing and really listen. To learn their names. To cheer them on. To squat down and meet them at eye level. To offer grace when their behavior doesn’t fit neatly into adult expectations. To remember that they are always watching and that how we show up matters more than we know.

Reassessing Priorities

Every year, the back-to-school season gives us a subtle but powerful invitation: to reassess our priorities.

What do we want our kids to remember about this time in their lives? That we rushed them from activity to activity, obsessed over performance, or filled every margin of the calendar? Or that they were deeply loved, held by a faith community that valued them for who they are, and taught them that God’s grace isn’t earned but received?

Jesus reminds us in Luke 12:15,

“One’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”

In a world that is constantly pushing for more - more stuff, more productivity, more accolades - this is a countercultural reminder. Perhaps we could build lives, families, and church communities that value compassion over competition, wonder over worry, and enough over excess.

Children are shaped by what we value and by the spaces we create. And they are watching us. Not just on Sundays, but in the everyday moments: when we’re frustrated in traffic, when we greet someone at the door, when we say sorry, when we laugh, when we pray. They are learning what it means to follow Jesus by watching us follow him.

God’s Steady Presence in the Midst of Change

Finally, let us remember that while this season is full of change, God’s love is steady. As it says in Lamentations 3:22–23:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

Whether a child is beginning preschool or entering their final year of high school… whether a parent is feeling overwhelmed or hopeful… whether a teacher is nervous or energized… whether we ourselves are in a season of uncertainty or growth… God’s mercies meet us right where we are.

This Fall, Let Us Be Church

So as we step into August and September, let’s commit to being church for each other - especially for our children. Let’s be a place where backpacks are blessed, tears are held, wins are celebrated, questions are welcomed, and every child knows they are beloved by God.

Let us show up - not just for programs or performances - but for people. Let us be foolish in all the right ways: slowing down, welcoming loudly, and valuing presence over polish.

Let us build a season - not around perfection - but around grace.

And may the children who walk through our doors, whether once or every week, grow up knowing this truth deep in their bones:

They are loved by this God.

They are loved by this church.

And they belong.

In Christ,

Rev. Minna Bothwell