Summer Church

I'm going to say something here that's borderline sacrilegious for a second-generation pastor's daughter, but here goes.

I don't like going to church in the summer.

Specifically, I don't like going to church in the summer at this stage of my life. Because it feels like I get up early every Sunday morning and dress three monkeys in nicer-than-normal clothes and then take them to a torture chamber where I whisper "Shhh!" and "Quiet!" and "Don't hit your sister!" and "Stand up while we're singing!" and "No, you can't have candy now" and other threats and directives until I seethe with annoyance.

And then the pastor says, "See you next week!" and we get up, collect our belongings and go home, where everyone immediately wants to change back into normal clothes and eat lunch and go outside and take a nap, and oh, did I mention that the beautiful sunny morning is now a cloudy afternoon and we missed the best chance we had all day to be outside?

This is all because our church, like many others, I suspect, gives our child-care workers the summer off -- which I wholeheartedly agree with. I respect and adore the Sunday school teachers who willingly love and teach my kids each Sunday morning during the school year, and I'm happy to support them while they take a much-deserved rest.

But it also makes me very conflicted about going to church on Sundays during the summer months, because now, the kids have no choice but to attend "big church" with Corey and me. And when I spend more time on crowd control than I do singing songs or listening to the sermon, I wonder why I even bother to show up.

It's left me with a sour taste in my mouth the last couple of years. It's not that every Sunday is a nightmare. But enough are that I wonder why we don't just ditch it and have church at home instead of making everyone grumpy and irritated before lunch.

But. (And it's a big but.) I know that's not the right answer. I know the Bible says, "Let us not give up meeting together." I know God doesn't ask for obedience capriciously. I know church has a purpose -- even summer church.

And my kids are watching.

So the past few weeks, I've begged God to help me with my attitude, if not my outward circumstances. I don't want to see church as a chore. I want to find meaning in my Sunday mornings, even the Sunday mornings that find me doing crowd control.

I can't say that Sundays have gotten easier. But God is working on my perspective. Instead of looking forward to Sunday mornings as a time to renew and recharge my own soul, I look at it as a way to ignite some fire in my 8- and 5-year-old. I try to get them to sing the songs. I ask them if they understand the words. We point out funny things during the videos. I talk to Natalie about the baptism service coming up in a few weeks. I show them the verses being referenced by the pastor.

And yes, I dispense gum, pick up crayons and settle disputes with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

If Sunday mornings used to be like going to a spa, summer Sundays mornings are like going to the gym.

But -- funny thing -- I'm starting to see how both kinds of Sundays can be an encouragement.