Good morning, Father. I didn't sleep very long last night, perhaps because of the many thoughts that have been weighing heavily on my heart this week. May I share some concerns of mine? Thanks for taking time to listen.
"I guess my mind goes back to last week when we met at Your house, Lord. After telling You goodbye, Brother John and I stood outside talking. We were concerned about a potential problem: the children playing in the church yard. Not only have they been playing while we worship You, but they have worn the shape of a diamond in the grass.
"You remember how I told Brother John that I needed to speak to the kids about their playing there, especially on Your holy day, and also about the lawn and how it's getting to look so worn? Well, even though I watched the fellas play after school this week, I always just seemed to be going in the opposite direction at the moment, so I never made that visit with the kids.
"And then last night I came over to the church for a visit after the sun had set. There were a couple of bats near the old tree, a baseball glove or two lying at its base, and a little green tennis ball sitting in a worn spot on the ground. But the churchyard was silent—the children had all gone home.
"The church was empty too. Just You and me there. I'm sure You knew my thoughts then as You know them now, and I'm sure You realize that I am wrestling with some questions, Lord."
In the early-morning darkness I heard God speak to my heart. "My child," He seemed to say, "I have a question for you this morning. Whose house sits across the road from yours?"
"Why, Your house, Lord. We know it's Yours Your children built it for You. It was made for Your glory."
"And whose land does My house sit upon?"
"It was bought just for You, Lord. We know that all things are Yours."
"And do not the people claim to be Mine too?"
"Yes, Lord, we all belong to You, for You made us and sustain us. In You we live and move and have our very being."
One last question seemed to bury itself in the stubborn soil of my mind: "Would it not be fair, then, to ask the Owner of the house whether He objected to having His children play in His yard on His holy Sabbath day?"
"But Lord," I protested, "it's wrong to do our own pleasure on the Sabbath, to let kids play ball on Your holy day!"
" 'To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.' So teach them My ways. But remember, all they will see of Me is what you show them or tell them. By your witness to My children you will be a savor of life unto life or of death unto death. And you must not forget that 'whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea'!"
"But Lord, what if they break another window in Your house? They apologized for that first one, but one never knows what kind of trouble kids can get into with a ball. I know—I have three sons and I once was a little child too."
Though no Scripture text came to mind in answer to my question, I was strongly impressed with a simple fact—that broken glass is easier and less expensive to replace than broken hearts.
Again I argued. "But the grass, Lord! We want Your place to look neat and clean. We don't need footpaths across the lawn."
" 'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.' "
It was silent then. There was no voice, no dream, no vision—just two hearts struggling to become one in the early-morning dawn of His day.
Then He seemed to say, "My special little room there in the back of the church, it's silent too—for no babies cry there anymore. The hallways echo the sounds of shuffling feet, but no little skips and tiptoeing steps. I no longer hear the laughter of My little ones in their rooms. Their voices no longer sing, their tiny hands no longer clap, the bells no longer ring, the flags no longer wave.
"Oh, My child, would you take the sounds of youthful happiness away from My house? Would you send away My children who know not of My Sabbath and who know not of My love?
"And you—knowing that I am the Creator of all the fields, and clothe My earth with flowers and trees and shrubs—are you concerned about My grass ?
"Look around you and behold the other churches in your city. In how many of their yards do children feel at home? It's not baseball diamonds you see there, but graves marked with cold stones that try to preserve memories. While you are busy during the week, My yard is often filled with the noise of fun and laughter of living children who are potential candidates for My kingdom.
" 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' "
. . . . . .
The author says that in the several years that have passed since this incident, the children have never again been a problem on the Sabbath. Some have attended the church's Vacation Bible School and others have joined the local Pathfinder club.
