Thursday, September 28th, 2006
One of my cutest parishoners is named Jack and he’s four years old. He’s what you might call an old soul.
His grandmother lives in another town and no longer attends our church. She called me to tell me that Jack asked her if she had ever been to Harmony Grove Church. She said, yes, she grew up in that church. He was clearly distressed. When she asked him why he was upset he told her. “Mimi, Pastor Sharon said that we were to go home and find someone who had never been to our church and to invite them. Now who am I going to invite?” Grandmother also told me that Jack’s mom is more motivated than ever to keep all three of her kids in church. They hear more than you would think.
A few weeks ago something I said something in a service that Jack’s mom could really relate to and she told me after the service. It had to do with the stress of the Sunday morning ‘getting to church’ routine. I had told the congregation how pretty they were and what a blessing it was to be with them that morning. I told them that I hoped they would get a blessing during worship—something like that during the welcome prelimenaries.
After church Jack’s mom said that she had felt the hard feelings and stares of her children that she had yelled at that morning getting them dressed for church. She said that she sat through the service asking God to help her to deserve her children. That she would behave better.
When she told me that I just couldn’t help myself and I had to confess the time that I felt most condemned and when I vowed to do better.
We had just joined the big downtown church in Baton Rouge. I had three kids that attended school in different parts of the city and I had picked up the oldest two one afternoon. The little one was in daycare at the church. I remember running into one of the older more sedate associate pastors who was kind enough to stop me in the hallway with my tired, hungry squirming three year old to tell me about some of the Bible study opportunities that I could participate in. I thanked him and finally made it out to the car that the big kids were actually climbing on top of and I just lost it.
I told them to get their #%^’s back in that car to buckle the @#ll up and to get ready to go home and go straight to bed!
Somehow, I had lost track of Sedate, Older Associate Pastor who had walked out behind me and heard every word.
Somehow, at the time, I was more embarrassed about the preacher seeing me act like that than I was my kids.
Sanctification is not an over night process.














