I was deeply disturbed by something I witnessed at a church this past Sunday - Father's Day:
We arrive at the church early to acquiant ourselves with the nursery system and more importantly to prepare our hearts to worship.
It is our first visit to this particular church and we are making our way across the parking lot to the building, when I see a man interacting with what appears to be his son, who is roughly 12 or 13.
Angry words from the father - unheard by us
Red-faced father, his veins straining against the flesh of his neck
A finger points in the son's face
He grabs the boy by the front of his shirt and hurls him into an outdoor pillar.
The boy's tears spring immediately upon impact.
More angry words - we're still too far away - the door closes in the boy's face, now red with embarrassment and shame. I am sure the door would have slammed were it not for the hydraulic mechanism that prevents church doors from slamming; from hurting children.
Closer to the building now, it is obvious the man (and his son) are Greeters for this morning's service.
the man smiles and shakes hands of those entering.
Had we not been believers, or with our friends for that matter, we would have done a 180 and left.
Father's Day.
I struggle with what to do. Do I say something? to the father? to the son? unsettled.
During the service we worship in song, the same man, his wife, and their son are two rows directly in front of us.
He raises his hands while singing Grace Unmeasured, "grace, grace grace that clothes me with power to do what is right."
I have a hard time singing - and not just because this song in unfamiliar to me.
Is it any wonder the unchurched avoid our worship gatherings, our buildings, even our 'Savior'?
We are constantly on display for the world to see what His grace can do in a life.
I am torn between seeing this disconnect; this distortion, and knowing we are all sinners in need of God's grace.
And yet as disturbed as I am over the whole encounter, the LORD brings this messsage through it - straight into my soul:
In less public, and in less physical ways I have badly interacted with my children.
Oh God, grant me the strength to cherish them as gifts and treasures. Firm and just when needed, but gracious and patient enough to never shame, belittle, mock or abuse them.
"Careful Hands" by Sleeping At Last
