Do kids understand worship?

By Pastor Carrie Smith

One of the questions I get asked a lot is: “Will my kids understand what’s going on in worship?” 

Having grown up in churches where there was no other option than to worship as a family, I had never thought to ask that question. But I’ve been hearing this so often recently, it has made me stop and reflect: What did I understand about worship when I was a child? What do I remember?

Here are a few recollections:

I remember the feel of the hard, smooth wooden pews and how I kept slipping down because my feet couldn’t touch the floor.

I remember how, at my grandma’s church, there were little pads of blank paper that said “Lutheran Scribble Pad” in the pew pocket next to the giving envelopes and the stubby pencils.

I remember how my job, while we were waiting for the service to start, was to mark all the day’s hymns with the little ribbons that poked out of the hymnal.

When I was a little older, I remember how my dad (a music teacher) would look down the pew and assign parts for the hymns: Mom on soprano, Dad on tenor, me on alto, and my little brother—well, we just hoped he would sing at all!

I remember “Lift High the Cross”, “Children of the Heavenly Father”, and “How Great Thou Art.”

I remember how grown up I felt when I received communion—especially when I was allowed to have the little cup of wine instead of juice!

I remember being awed by the drama of certain services: singing by candlelight on Christmas Eve; the thud of the Bible being slammed shut on Good Friday; and the excitement and joy of Easter morning, when everyone had new shoes, and (sometimes) even a new hat and purse to match!

Most of all, though, what I remember most about worship is feeling safe, and loved, and knowing that this was somehow important. I may not have been able to articulate it, but I understood deep down that something sacred was happening: God is in this place. These words are important. This music makes my grandmother cry. This bread is more than bread.

A little later, there was something else I began to understand: There might be a place for me in this church. I was so proud when, as a high school student, I was asked to be an assisting minister. It was scary at first, but I knew just what to do: This is how we light the candles. This is how we hold the cup. This is when we stand to pray. This is how you read the words slowly, and loudly, so all can hear. There was no handbook for this, and no special training session—unless you count the Sunday after Sunday, year after year of sitting on a hard wooden pew, nestled between my parents, soaking in the sights and sounds of worship, and marinating in the love of God through Jesus Christ.

Will our kids understand what’s going on in worship? I believe the answer is “Yes!” More than we will ever know.