Making Space: Autumn Noticing
Our Making Space rhythm is about glorifying God with our time. It’s a practice of slowing down, clearing room in our days, and choosing presence over hurry. When we make space, we’re saying with our actions that God’s world and God’s presence are worth our attention, and more important than anything else.
For me, sometimes that just means taking time to notice. Efforts to be present in my everyday life, to eliminate distraction, to pay attention… these are small but meaningful ways to honor God with the moments He’s given me.
As a Christian, I believe this is part of my calling: to lift up my head and see life for what it truly is. When I look through the lenses of beauty, freedom, and abundance, I start to recognize God’s hand everywhere. Noticing becomes not just an art form, but a spiritual discipline, a way to worship. (And really, I think creating any kind of art can be a form of worship too.)
This fall, I want to make space to notice:
the colors of the trees
the sound of leaves underfoot
the smell and taste of fall spices
the feel of soft blankets and cozy layers
Maybe that’s why I love this season so much, it’s hard not to notice.
Will you join me in making space to notice this season?
Let’s glorify God with our time by slowing down, paying attention, and living fully in the present.
What will you choose to notice as the days turn golden and cool?
Creative Prompt: Layered Paper Landscape
You don’t need to know how to paint a realistic tree or draw the perfect horizon line. This process is about playing with color, texture, and layers, like building a patchwork quilt out of paper.
You’ll need:
A base paper (any size you like)
Scraps of paper (magazines, junk mail, tissue paper, old drawings, or painted paper)
Scissors (or just tear the paper for rough edges)
Glue stick or liquid glue
Steps:
Pick your horizon. Decide where the sky meets the land on your paper. Lightly sketch a line if you want, or just eyeball it.
Start with the sky. Tear or cut strips of blue, purple, orange, or whatever colors you imagine. Layer them from top to horizon, overlapping a little to create depth.
Add land in layers. Use strips or shapes of green, brown, gold, or patterned paper for hills, fields, or forests. Overlap so the pieces create a sense of distance (lighter colors in back, darker in front works well).
Play with details. Add a sun, moon, tree silhouettes, or even a house, just shapes, no detail required.
Step back and notice. It doesn’t need to look “real.” Let the textures and colors suggest a place where you’d like to rest or wander.
Wondering Questions:
What kind of landscape emerged from your layers?
Does it remind you of a real place, or an imagined one?
What might God be showing you through this “land” you created?
Kid-Friendly Option:
Give your child scraps of paper and invite them to build their own “land.” You can prompt with fun questions: What does your sky look like today? What kind of trees or animals live in your land? Let them collage freely, kids are natural at this!
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Known, Seen, and Loved: An Examen
As I was thinking about the call to see, know, and love the children in the church, I realized these are calls and desires in everyone’s life, so I thought we could use a little examen that helps us see that we are seen, known, and loved, as well as see the call to see, know, and love others.
1. Presence
Take a deep breath. Ask God to help you see yourself and others with His eyes—eyes of love.
2. Gratitude
When today did I feel truly seen, known, and understood?
Who reflected God’s love to me today in a way that felt unconditional?
3. Reflection
When did I make space for someone else to feel seen and heard?
How did I show love to someone without expecting anything in return?
Did I miss an opportunity to notice or care for someone who needed it?
4. Stretching Love
How have I responded to people who are difficult for me to love?
What is one small way I can practice loving even my enemies, as Christ calls me to?
5. Invitation
Where do I sense God inviting me to grow in seeing, knowing, and loving tomorrow?
What grace do I want to ask for as I end this day?
sacred story time (write a poem)
Last time, Pooh began his plan to get the honey from the bees, but there was a problem. This week, Christopher Robin steps in to help!
As we read this week’s passage, I hope you’ll take some time to wonder about the friendships in your life, how they bring joy and laughter, how they can disappoint. Come play, pray, and wonder with me.
"Oh, there you are!" called down Winnie-the-Pooh, as soon as Christopher Robin got back to the tree. "I was beginning to get anxious. I have discovered that the bees are now definitely Suspicious."
"Shall I put my umbrella up?" Christopher Robin said.
"Yes, but wait a moment. We must be practical. The important bee to deceive is the Queen Bee. Can you see which is the Queen Bee from down there?"
"No."
"A pity. Well, now, if you walk up and down with your umbrella, saying, 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain,' I shall do what I can by singing a little Cloud Song, such as a cloud might sing.... Go!"
So, while Christopher Robin walked up and down and wondered if it would rain, Winnie-the-Pooh sang this song:
How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!
Every little cloud
Always sings aloud.
"How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!"
It makes him very proud
To be a little cloud.
The bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever. Some of them, indeed, left their nests and flew all round the cloud as it began the second verse of this song, and one bee sat down on the nose of the cloud for a moment, and then got up again.
Noticing Prompt
Have you ever been disappointed by someone? How did it feel? How were you able to move on? Did the relationship continue? What would it look like to offer forgiveness?
Play Prompt
Make a list of words that rhyme with “bee” and then try to make a silly poem out of them. Maybe even include some made up words! If you do, what do you think those words mean? Why are words so important? How do they make you laugh or cry?
If you are with children, try saying the silly poem while you march in a circle or outside. How do you feel while doing this? How do the kids feel? What emotion are they expressing?
Imagination Prompt
If a friend asked you to do something silly that would embarrass you, would you do it? What factors would influence your decision? How would you feel about it when you make up your mind?
Prayer
Triune God, thank you for creating us for community. Bless our friendships and give us wisdom when they are hard. Help us to respect others as image-bearers, as well as ourselves. Show us what healthy and good community looks like.
Download a PDF of this content for a Winnie-the-Pooh coloring page!
Book Review: Journey to the Heart
What I love about Journey to the Heart by Frank Jelenek is how naturally it connects with the heart of spiritual direction and contemplative play. The book teaches children that silence isn’t empty, it’s a space where God can be noticed. The practice of choosing a “secret word” becomes an anchor, much like the way spiritual direction helps us hold stillness and listen more deeply.
Instead of filling every moment with activity, the book invites letting go, allowing thoughts to drift, creating space for presence. In that “negative space,” children learn the very skills spiritual direction nurtures: listening inwardly, noticing what emerges, and discovering that prayer is not performance but relationship.
It’s a beautiful reminder that even the youngest among us can meet God in stillness, and that play doesn’t always mean doing more. It can also mean making space to be.
Book Review: Nothing
Nothing: John Cage and 4'33" by Nicholas Day tells the story of composer John Cage’s most famous (and infamous) piece: a composition of silence. No notes, no instruments, just the sounds of the room itself: the coughs, the creaks, the shuffling, the wind outside. The book, with its playful art and lyrical text, invites children (and the adults reading with them) to discover that “nothing” is never really empty. Silence is full, if we are willing to listen.
This is where the book touches something deeply connected to contemplative practice and spiritual direction. In spiritual direction, silence is not a gap to be filled but a presence to be noticed. What feels like “nothing” often turns out to be the space where we encounter God most honestly. Just as John Cage discovered that silence was alive with unplanned sound, spiritual direction teaches us that stillness is alive with God’s presence.
Even though this book is not “Christian,” children reading this story learn to trust that quiet is not empty or boring, but brimming with possibility. Adults, too, are reminded that making space for “nothing” is essential. Without silence, we miss the gentle music that is already playing around and within us.
In a noisy, busy world, Nothing: John Cage and 4'33" is more than a biography; it’s an invitation to pause, listen, and discover the sacred in the spaces we usually overlook.
Seen, Known, and Loved: The Calling of Children’s Ministry is Every Adult’s Calling
Whenever I think about children’s ministry, I return again and again to three simple words: seen, known, and loved.
Those three words sum up my deepest hopes for the kids in our church. I want every child to feel truly seen, genuinely known, and deeply loved by the church.
I say the church very intentionally. Of course, I mean Jesus, but the church is the body of Christ. When children feel seen, known, and loved by the church, they are experiencing the love of Jesus in real, tangible ways. And this language matters, because it’s not only about how children feel, it’s a calling for the adults of the church. We are invited (and entrusted) to be the ones who see, know, and love the children in our midst.
Think about what that means. To see a child is to notice them, not just as part of a group, but as an individual with their own gifts, needs, and personality. To know a child is to listen, to remember, to value their voice. And to love a child is to offer warmth, care, patience, and delight in who they are.
When we as adults do this faithfully in a safe environment, we create a foundation of belonging and rest. That foundation matters deeply, because as children grow, they will begin to wrestle with questions of faith. And questioning is not something to fear; it’s healthy, good, and necessary. If children have been rooted in an early experience of being seen, known, and loved, they will feel safe to ask those questions. They will know the church is a place that can hold their doubts and their wonderings, not just their certainties.
This is why “seen, known, and loved” is not just my goal for children’s ministry, it’s a vision for the whole church. Every program, every story, every interaction, every small gesture of care is an opportunity for the body of Christ to live out this calling.
Because when children grow up feeling seen, known, and loved by the church, they are also growing up feeling seen, known, and loved by Jesus. And that is a gift they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.
Creative Prompt: Scribbles
When we make “ugly art,” we let go of striving. We release the pressure to make something polished or impressive, and instead open ourselves to receive whatever comes. Scribbles are a perfect place to begin.
Children already know this. They don’t need a reason to scribble; they simply put crayon to paper and enjoy the movement, the colors, the lines colliding and looping across the page. No rules. No striving. Just joy.
Today’s invitation is to make scribbles.
That’s it. No plan, no picture in mind, no outcome to aim for. Simply enter like a child, moving your hand freely across the page. Let the marks overlap, tangle, and surprise you.
When you’re finished, pause and ask what did you receive in the making? Peace? Release? Laughter? Maybe nothing more than the reminder that you are free to begin again.
Wondering Questions
I wonder what it feels like to scribble without striving?
I wonder what you might receive when you let the lines be messy?
I wonder where else you might loosen your control, and allow it to be a little more messy?
I wonder how God delights in you when you enter play like a child?
Kid-Friendly Version
Grab your markers, crayons, or pencils and just scribble! Make big loops, tiny wiggles, zigzags, or swirls. Try using as many colors as you can.
Then look closely at your scribbles. Do you see any hidden shapes, animals, or silly faces? How do your scribbles make you feel?
Closing Thought
Scribbles remind us that creativity is not about control, but about receiving. It’s not about proving, but about playing. Like children, we can let go of striving and enter the freedom of simply making marks on a page and trust that God meets us there.
Ugly Art, Again! From Striving to Receiving
Let’s talk about ugly art again and why it can be an important spiritual practice. By “ugly art,” I mean creating without pressure, control, or concern for polish, art that may never be impressive but is honest, messy, and real.
As Christians, loosening our grip on control and perfection isn’t just emotionally healthy, it’s spiritually essential. Why? Because the Christian life is rooted in grace, not achievement. The gospel tells us we are loved, chosen, and redeemed not because we’ve earned it, but because God is good and merciful. Yet so often, we fall back into striving, trying to prove our worth, manage outcomes, or “get it right” for God.
This is my coloring book and a page I colored. The question on the opposite page feels appropriate: What is God inviting you to notice today?
Control and perfection give us the illusion of safety, but they often keep us from intimacy with God. When we grip too tightly, we block ourselves from receiving. And the life of faith is meant to be received, not controlled.
Jesus invites us to come to Him like children: open-handed, dependent, delighted. He doesn’t say, “Come when you have it all together.” He says, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened.” The spiritual life is not a ladder to climb but a gift to receive. It is not about mastering holiness, but abiding in Love.
When we shift from striving to receiving, we begin to live from a place of trust. We start to believe that God is not measuring our performance but longing for our presence. We stop managing our relationship with God and start enjoying it. And that’s where intimacy grows, not in perfection, but in presence.
This is why practicing ugly art matters. It trains us to let go, to resist the need to perfect or prove, and to simply be with God. In Scripture, God consistently shows up in quiet, ordinary places, in the whisper, not the whirlwind (1 Kings 19), in the stillness of the garden, in Jesus simply being with people.
When we slow down enough to be present, we create space to actually receive God’s love, rather than trying to earn it or perform for it. And being present reminds us: we are not just workers in God’s Kingdom, we are His beloved.
If making “ugly art” feels uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it alone. In spiritual direction, I love using art practices as a way to let go of expectations and discover God’s presence in simple, freeing, and even playful ways.
Responding to God’s Beauty: Create + Play
It’s time to move from making space into create and play. This is the rhythm we follow here. First, we pause, making space to sit with God, to reflect, to pray, to simply be in His presence. Then, from that stillness, we step into creating and playing.
So often, people think “create” must mean something artistic: painting, coloring, crafting. But creating is so much more than that! I like to think of it as a response, letting ourselves be moved by God’s beauty and then answering with action. It could be snapping a picture, chopping vegetables, lifting your voice in song, journaling, or dancing.
Sometimes this kind of creating flows naturally. Other times, we need to be intentional, and that’s where play comes in. Play loosens us, opens us, helps us practice noticing beauty. That’s why I share photo prompts, creative prompts, and prayer prompts—little invitations that are both playful and reflective.
Sometimes we are stirred by God’s beauty to create. Other times, we create as a way to train our eyes to notice His beauty more clearly.
So how do you want to play this week?
Practicing the Presence | Prompt 4: Open Windows and Doorways
Find and photograph an open window or doorway.
Today, notice an open window or doorway. Pause for just a moment before you move on.
What is this open space inviting you to?
What does it stir in your heart: rest, curiosity, longing, courage?
Where might God be saying, “Come in. Step through. Trust me here.”
If you’d like, take a photo. Not necessarily for show, but as a way to slow down and remember. If you do decide to share, tag your photo with #PracticingPresence so we can walk in His presence together.
What Is “Practicing the Presence”?
Practicing the presence means pausing to notice God not only in church or prayer but in the ordinary details of life. It’s not about chasing after God. It’s about remembering God is already here, in the simplest of things.
Making Space: Wordless Prayer
I’ve been taking a little longer with making space this month. September has felt like the right time to pause hereand notice what needs to be cleared away and what needs to be held close. Maybe it’s just me, but there’s something about the changing season that makes me want to breathe deeper and make room for God in new ways.
So here’s a simple practice to try:
Sit quietly for a minute with your hands open in front of you, palms up.
In one hand, imagine placing everything hard, sad, or scary that you’re carrying. Picture loading that hand up with anything heavy on your heart.
In the other hand, imagine holding everything you love—anything beautiful, fun, silly, or sacred that brings joy.
Then slowly lift your hands up, offering them to God.
You don’t even need words. The gesture itself becomes a prayer, an embodied way of saying: “I can’t hold all of this on my own. Please carry it for me.” and “Thank You for all this beauty and for being a God who gives good gifts.”
Sometimes, making space means letting go of so many words and simply being with God in a quieter way.
Try It with Kids
This hand-prayer works beautifully with children, too. You can guide them like this:
Hold out both hands in front of you, palms up.
In one hand, pretend to put anything that makes you feel sad, worried, or scared. You can “drop” it in your hand like a stone.
In the other hand, pretend to put things you love: something beautiful, fun, or silly that makes you happy. You can “pick up” these good things and place them in your hand like treasures.
After a moment, lift up both hands together. Tell God, “Here are the hard things. Please hold them for me. Here are the good things. Thank You for giving them to me.”
If children don’t want to use words, that’s okay. The simple action of lifting their hands is a prayer all by itself.
Learning to See Through God’s Eyes
Several years ago, I chose three words to shape the way I wanted to see the world: beauty, freedom, and abundance. They’re still words I come back to often. I don’t always live them out perfectly, but they continue to be a guide for me, a way of framing how I want to look at my life, my relationships, and the world around me.
The truth is, I don’t always see through that frame naturally. Most days I need the reminder to slow down, make space, and ask God to help me see differently. Left to myself, I get distracted, or I focus on what feels heavy or frustrating. But when I pause and pray, even a simple, quiet “Lord, help me see what You see”, it opens my eyes to what’s already there.
Scripture reminds us that God is the source of all three:
“One thing I ask from the Lord… to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.” (Psalm 27:4)
“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” (Galatians 5:1)
“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)
Making space for this kind of noticing doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be as simple as:
Looking out the window for a few minutes and asking, Where is the beauty here?
Taking a walk and asking, What freedom is God inviting me into today?
Sitting at the table and asking, What abundance am I overlooking today?
A Making Space Practice
This week, take five minutes each day to pause and ask God to show you beauty, freedom, and abundance in an ordinary place. Write down what you notice, or share it with someone else. Over time, these small moments of noticing can gently shift the way we see our lives and help us point others toward the goodness of God at work all around us.
Creative Prompt: Tree of Beginnings
September has always felt like a fresh start. The air shifts, school begins, routines re-form, and even nature seems to whisper: something new is growing.
But here’s the thing about beginnings: not all of them last. Some are here just for a season, like leaves that blaze with color before drifting to the ground. Others stay, rooted and steady, shaping us for much longer than we expect. But both matter and are part of the tree.
Today’s invitation is to create a Tree of Beginnings.
The Creative Practice
On your page, draw or paint a tree. It doesn’t have to be realistic! Keep it simple if you’d like: a trunk, a few branches, and plenty of space for leaves. (Or use this coloring page.)
Now, imagine this tree as all the beginnings in your life right now. As you draw leaves, imagine them all as the new things, the big or small, serious or silly. If you’d like, on each leaf, draw, paint, or write something that you’re starting this season (or hope to start!). Otherwise, just hold them in your heart.
As you look at your tree, remember that some leaves will fall away. They may have been important for a moment, but they’re not meant to stay. And some leaves will remain, steady and green. These are the beginnings that will continue to grow.
Let your tree hold both, the fleeting and the lasting. Then ask God to bless all your leaves and to give you peace about the ones that fall away (or the courage to let some fall away).
Wondering Questions
I wonder what new beginnings are stirring in you this season.
I wonder which ones will last, and which ones may gently fall away?
I wonder how it feels to notice that both are good, and both belong?
Kid-Friendly Version
Draw a giant tree full of leaves. Talk about all the things going on in your life, whether new or continuing, like school, sports, friendships, or even snack time!
Some leaves will fall off the tree later (and that’s okay!). Others will stay and grow bigger. Which ones do you think will stick around? Thank God for all the leaves.
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
An examen for the end of summer
The examen is a simple way of prayerful reflection—remembering, noticing, and receiving God’s grace in the ordinary. As summer comes to a close, take time to pause and look back over these months with God.
Remember
What moments from this summer stand out most vividly to me?
Where did I feel most alive, most myself?
Where did I feel God’s nearness?
Give Thanks
What gifts did summer hold for me, big or small?
Who am I especially grateful for this season?
How did play, rest, or joy find me?
Notice
Where did I feel weary, restless, or distracted?
Where did I sense God’s absence—or my own distance from God?
What have these moments taught me about myself?
Look Forward
What do I want to carry with me from summer into fall?
What might God be inviting me to let go of?
What blessing, prayer, or grace do I need for this next season?
Close
Rest for a moment in God’s love. Imagine God’s blessing resting on you as you step forward into what comes next.
Draw Near: The little book for color and wonder
I’m so excited to share something new with you: my brand-new coloring book, Draw Near: the little book for color and wonder.
This isn’t just a coloring book. It’s an invitation to slow down, to notice, to play, and to wonder. Inside you’ll find over 50 hand-drawn illustrations paired with gentle wondering questions. As you color, you’ll be invited to pause and reflect, letting the simple act of coloring become a practice of contemplative play.
Contemplative play is what happens when we let ordinary moments—like picking up a crayon, pencil, or marker—become space for quiet reflection and openness. It’s not about creating a perfect finished page. It’s about showing up with curiosity, being present, and letting yourself wonder.
Some of the illustrations trace the seasons of the year. Others are small and simple shapes, easy to fill with color. All of them are paired with questions that create space for noticing—questions like:
Where did you see beauty today?
What are you longing for right now?
What feels like home to you?
My hope is that Draw Near becomes a companion you can return to again and again, on quiet mornings, in waiting rooms, on a Sabbath afternoon, or whenever you need a moment to rest, breathe, and be. It’s small enough to carry with you everywhere and the illustrations are simple enough to hand to a child, if they need a small project.
✨ You can find Draw Near: the little book for color and wonder in my Etsy shop here: PaperArtWhimsies.
I’d love to know how you use it, whether you color alone, with a child, or with a friend. However you choose to use it, I hope it helps you slow down and draw near.
When Rest Feels Hard
Lately, rest has been feeling harder than I think it should. I sit down to nap, to read, or even to pray, and instead of stillness I feel anxious, fidgety, or distracted. Escapism often comes easier—TV, scrolling on my phone—but that doesn’t leave me feeling truly refreshed.
What I’ve been noticing, though, is that play can be a pathway into rest, one that feels more accessible. I used to think of rest and play as opposites. But really, play is a kind of rest. There are so many ways to rest, and when the traditional ones (the ones that require keeping my body still) don’t work, play is often an easier way to enter. When I paint, color, doodle, or take a slow walk outside, my body and mind relax in ways they don’t when I try to force myself into “being still.”
And here’s something important: the kind of rest that truly quiets our bodies takes practice. It doesn’t always come naturally. Some seasons of life make it harder than others. That doesn’t mean we’re failing at rest, it just means we might need gentler doorways in.
Not every kind of play is equally restful. Some is active or noisy, which is good and refreshing in its own way! But other kinds of play are gentler. I call this contemplative play: the kind of play that refreshes the body, softens the heart, and brings the mind into a quieter rhythm.
Here are some of my favorite ways to practice contemplative play:
Watercoloring
Journaling (especially in my coloring journal)
Digital art (lately I’ve been playing with the idea of making stickers)
Swinging in the hammock
Sitting in the grass with the dogs and letting them tumble around me
Playing fetch with the dogs
Listening to audiobooks (often while doing one of the above)
After these kinds of play, I try to pause and notice what I’m feeling. Often the first feeling that surfaces isn’t the truest one. (Once I sit with it for a few minutes, I usually realize I’m just sad about a lot of things.) Then I gather up all those feelings and lift them to God with a simple prayer: “God, I don’t know what to do with all of this. Will you hold it for me?”
This month, I’m remembering that rest isn’t only stillness. Sometimes the most restful thing is to follow the thread of play until I arrive at the calm I was seeking all along.
Practice Invitation
Think about the kinds of play that feel restful for you. Try one this week, like coloring, baking, daydreaming, humming, swinging in a hammock. As you do, notice how your body and spirit shift. Then, take a moment to name what you’re feeling and lift it up to the Lord.
The Hidden, Blessed, and Sacred Work of Children’s Ministry
Yesterday I had to lead a meeting with our Sunday school volunteers and honestly, I wasn’t really feeling it going in. As the date of the meeting crept closer, I noticed a little bitterness rising inside about children’s ministry, which is very unusual for me! I knew God would meet me in the meeting and in my words, but I wanted to be able to stand in front of our volunteers and speak authentically about how much I love them and love this ministry. So, I reached out to a few close friends and asked them to pray.
And of course, God showed up. As I sang during worship, listened to the sermon, and came forward for communion, my heart shifted. I felt His joy rising in me again, even while I carried my sadness, fear, anxiety, even my bitterness to Him. By the time I stood before our volunteers, I was able to share from a place of honesty about the work, the struggle, and the beauty of what we do together.
Here are some of the things I tried to put into words:
Children’s ministry is hidden.
A friend of mine gave me this word recently about this ministry, and it stuck with me. Children’s ministry doesn’t usually get the spotlight. We’re not up front, we’re not getting applause. In fact, most of the time it feels pretty thankless.
Part of my job is to make sure our volunteers feel seen and valued, but I also reminded them that there’s something holy about the hiddenness itself. In God’s upside-down kingdom, the hidden jobs are the important ones. When the kids aren’t listening, when you’re tired and sweaty, when no one says “thank you” — God sees. And He delights in you.
Children’s ministry is a blessing to us.
We also read together from Matthew 19:14: “Let the little children come to me…”
The truth is, we don’t just serve the kids, we also receive from them. Their honesty, their joy, their questions, even their struggles — they all bless us. Week after week, these little ones show us what humility, trust, and openness to God look like.
Children’s ministry isn’t just about helping kids grow in their faith; it’s about us growing, too. We get to see, right in front of us, the kind of childlike faith Jesus said was the model for His kingdom. Serving in this way is not just a responsibility, it’s a blessing.
Children’s ministry is sacred.
One of the holiest truths about this work is that we are not only telling kids about Jesus, but we are also we are creating spaces where they can encounter Him for themselves. That happens through relationships, through the way we listen, through play, through stories, and through the wonder we make space for. And once you truly encounter Jesus, you are never the same.
When a child feels loved and seen by us, they are experiencing the love and welcome of Jesus. When we invite them to wonder about God’s story, they are encountering His presence in real and lasting ways. This is sacred work, holy ground where God meets His children through the simple faithfulness of His people.
Children’s ministry may not always feel glamorous, but it is holy. It’s hidden, yes, but hidden in the way seeds are hidden before they grow. It’s a blessing to us, because we are shaped by the very ones Jesus told us to learn from. And it’s sacred, because here children encounter the love of Jesus through us, and we encounter Him through them.
So if you ever find yourself tired or discouraged in this work (like I did this week), remember: God sees you. And through you, Jesus is making Himself known.