#253 The Lion, the Dad, and the Daughter

Last fall I started reading C.S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia with Lanie. We read one chapter at a time, night after night, with some breaks here and there when I had an evening meeting or we had visitors at our house. Working our way through my one-volume collection, we read The Magician's Nephew and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and The Horse and His Boy and Prince Caspian. Then Lanie started to get a little tired of the books (I think it was mostly that her sister had started staying up later, and Lanie was afraid Mia was having fun without her while I read to Lanie), so we stopped for a while. But this spring Lanie started asking about our "special book" again. We read through The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Silver Chair and, finally, The Last Battle, which we just finished today.

It was a fun journey. I have fond memories of my dad reading these books with me when I was little, so it was a special treat to read them to my own firstborn. Reading chapter books was a bit of a stretch for Lanie and her attention span, but she seemed to follow along pretty well. I think she enjoyed the adventure and fantasy of these stories. Once or twice I carefully helped explain the Christian symbolism in these tales, but at this point in Lanie's life, I was generally content to help her understand the plot and appreciate whatever she picked up on her own—we can explore the deeper meanings when she's a little older. Lanie, for her part, says that Aslan is her favorite character and The Last Battle is her favorite book because of the marvelously happy ending (her dad thinks there's a little recency bias in there as well). Now it'll be on to some new, yet-to-be-determined book. Learning to read is not so far off on the horizon for Lanie. Who knows? If Lanie and I come back to The Chronicles of Narnia, she might be able to read the books herself.

Grace and peace,

BMH

#252 Public Prayer

This Sunday I preached from a Bible passage where Jesus warns His hearers about the teachers of the law, who—among other things—"for a show make lengthy prayers." (See Mark 12:38-40.) I have to say, those words make me a little bit uncomfortable. Leading the prayers of the people (sometimes semi-seriously referred to as the "long prayer") in public worship is a regular part of my responsibilties as a pastor.

I believe this prayer should cover a wide variety of topics. As God's people, we should be praying for each other and all the nations of the world and every sector of society and all creation. After, all our God is God over all, and Jesus Christ is King of the universe. So I try to include a lot of things in my prayers: prayers for particular people with specific needs in and around our congregation, prayers for our local church and the worldwide church, prayers for our community and our nation and the nations of the world, prayers for creation. And based on the types of prayers we read in Scripture, I don't just want to bring a bunch of requests, even if many of those requests are for others. I also want to praise God for who He is and thank Him for what He's done and express trust in Him and confess sins and lament evils. I try to vary my prayers and highlight different things from week to week. I'd like to model good prayer habits and encourage my congregation to broaden their own prayers.

But the whole thing can make me self-conscious. I'm afraid that at times I'm hypocritical. I understand that public prayer and private prayer are somewhat different. I really am working on expanding my own private prayer life to include a wider variety of prayers. But I'm certainly not always as balanced in my private prayers as I am in public. I definitely become self-centered in my own prayers at times. When I lead public prayer, I try to pray things I really mean and avoid rambling, but I know that I do ramble at times, especially when I'm under-prepared or nervous. For now I think the best I can do is to keep working on my praying—both public and private—and ask God to help me grow in speaking honestly and boldly yet humbly before Him. And maybe a little bit of nervousness is a good thing if it makes me a little more reflective and intentional about what and how I pray.

Grace and peace,

BMH

#251 Kid Friendly

When I was a little kid, my pastor was Ron Kok. I loved Pastor Ron. At the time my church owned this big old house. Pastor Ron and his family lived on the main floor, and my family rented the upstairs, which worked as a three-bedroom apartment. Living in the same building meant I saw quite a bit of Pastor Ron. He and his wife, Monique, babysat my sister and me fairly often when my parents went out for dinner. When Pastor Ron came home in the afternoon, I would sometimes be outside shooting hoops or lobbing a football into the air so I could run underneath and catch it. I remember Pastor Ron stopping to toss the football with me. I remember him talking to me about the books I was reading. I remember him playing Mastermind with me in his living room. Pastor Ron made me feel like I mattered, like he cared about me.

I can't say that I often consciously think about Pastor Ron as I go about my work as a pastor, but I'm sure that my good relationship with him made a big impact on me. I really want the children I serve as a pastor to feel like they matter, like I care about them. I do children's messages during our worship services in the hopes that the kids will think that church is for them, and I don't mind at all when they go on tangents. I made sure I learned all the kids' names as quickly as I could, and I try to specifically say hello to them when I see them. I want them to feel comfortable talking to me, so I try to ask questions about school or what they're doing that day. I don't know that I'm as good as Pastor Ron was, but I hope that I can be a postive influence on the children I meet as pastor.

Grace and peace,

BMH