Benediction

When I worked with the children's ministry program at my church in Seattle I had the amazing privilege to learn and experience the Godly Play curriculum.  For those who aren't familiar with Godly Play, you can read more about the program here but essentially it is a Sunday School program that assumes children are capable of encountering the mystery and majesty of God in silence, in opportunities to pose "wondering" questions, and in the participation in the ancient liturgy of the church (simplified to their level of course).  It's an incredible program and in my opinion probably the best way to help our children learn to worship and experience God so they are able to make the transition to worshiping with the larger corporate body.

Anyways!  This post really isn't an advertisement for Godly Play!  I was a worship leader for the 4-6 year old room and one of my very favorite parts of that role was getting the opportunity to bestow a blessing, or a benediction, upon each child before they left every week.  They would all be sitting in a circle and one by one I'd call them up to me.  Some would sit on the floor in front of me or next to me.  Some would exuberantly throw themselves into my lap for a quick snuggle as I gave them their blessing.  Others would more shyly approach.  I would lean towards them and whisper words meant only for them into their ear, placing my hand upon their head in the ancient motion of blessing  someone.  I would try to incorporate some aspect of the day's story, but I would also try to make it personal to their lives.  If I knew Ryan had a soccer game and the lesson of the day was how God was with Abram and Sarai everywhere he sent them, I may have whispered "Ryan, may you always remember the Lord goes with you everywhere you go this week, he's with you in the classroom, he's with you on that soccer field, and he's with you as you lay down to sleep each evening. May God bless you and keep you.  Amen."  If one of the children came from a difficult family situation I would incorporate words of blessing that addressed their life somehow.

This was powerful.  In so many ways.  For the little ones, you could visibly see their countenance change as they got up from receiving their blessings and headed towards the door.  They exited into the rest of their week buoyed by the words of love, grace, and God's truth spoken over them.  Many many children would tell us that the blessing was their favorite part of Sunday School.   We live in a culture and a world where critique is everywhere.  Every assignment we turn in, every play on the sports field, every outfit we wear is up for the critique and evaluation of the world around us.  We are all hungry for words of grace and love to be spoken over us. As the one giving the blessings I found myself in awe of the privilege to be one of the voices speaking into these little minds and hearts.  It was powerful, and that experience has stayed with me all these years.  I haven't spoken a blessing over a child since I left Seattle in 2005, yet I've never forgotten those holy moments, that sacred ground when a child expectantly waited for her unique benediction.

My friend Kimberlee is a mom of 4 beautiful children, and is doing an amazing job raising them to love the Lord.  She has carefully & thoughtfully incorporated aspects of the church calendar, liturgy, and rhythm into her family life, and I've learned a lot from her as I've read her blog and her book over the years.  Every night she and her husband speak the words of each child's baptismal verse over them, mark them with the sign of the cross on their foreheads and speak a benediction over them.  I have loved this idea since the moment I heard about it long before Aidan ever existed.

Now that it's my turn to put my little one to sleep I have begun the ritual of speaking a blessing over him as he begins to nurse to sleep in my arms.  I mark his forehead with the sign of the cross, the same way it was marked with the waters of his baptism.  I speak the words of a scripture passage over him--not one particular verse yet, each night it's the words of a different verse, words I want to begin taking root in his little soul.  I long for him to always know the height and depth and breadth of God's love for him.  I pray he will always know that when the waters of life swirl around him they will not sweep over him.  I hope he will never ever forget that the Lord delights in him.  I pray he will be a boy and then a man who will love justice and mercy.   In these moments my ordinary hands, the hands that spend the day wiping a little nose and a little bottom, the hands that wash what feels like a never ending slew of dishes, hands that type words of reflection into a computer--these ordinary every day hands become holy.  As they caress a tiny forehead and smooth back fly away strands of baby hair something powerful happens.  I'm sure Aidan can't feel it, and doesn't realize it, but in these quiet moments of blessing my son I am somehow changed.  My perspective shifts and refocuses.  The frustration of having to tell him twenty times in a day not to touch the DVD player melts away and I remember that in the long run, what really matters is that these holy and ancient words from scripture begin to take root in his tiny heart.  I sit and I rock and I nurse him and I pray.  I pray words of blessing, words of benediction.  And I pray that somehow these moments of grace make a difference--in his life and in my own.