As part of our Wave service, I invite the children to come forward for the children’s moment with one of our volunteer teachers. When I extend the invitation, they already know exactly where to go. There are three brothers in our congregation—ages four, three, and two. They’ve been baptized in our church and have been part of this community since they were born. At first, their parents carried them forward. But as they learned to walk, they now come on their own.
One Sunday, I watched all three of them run eagerly to the front when it was time. I couldn’t help but smile and be proud of them. They sat where they were supposed to, at least for a moment. As the teacher spoke, they wiggled and shifted—lying down, rolling around, glancing in every direction, standing, sitting, even breaking into little dances. And yet, when the lesson ended, they all raised their hands at once, knowing that the teacher would likely have some small gifts to share. After receiving their treasures, they happily returned to their seats.
Watching them, a thought struck me: they don’t fully understand what’s happening. They don’t yet grasp the lesson in the way adults might, or all the meaning behind it, or even why they are there in the fullest sense. But they do understand something. They know this is a place they belong. They know this is a moment to come forward, to listen in their own way, and to receive something good. They participate without fully understanding. And still, it filled me with joy to see them there—to see them, in their own way, learning how to worship. Then I wondered: is this how God sees us?
We come together on Sundays, gathering because that’s what we’ve learned to do. Some of us don’t fully understand the message, yet we listen anyway. Some come hoping to receive something—a word of comfort, a sense of peace, a blessing. In many ways, we are not so different from those three little brothers. We show up. We participate as best we can. We imitate what we believe worship is meant to be. And perhaps that is where faith often begins—not in full understanding, but in faithful imitation. In showing up before we have all the answers. In practicing what we do not yet fully comprehend. God calls us deeper of course. Just as those children will grow—learning more, understanding more, entering more deeply into what they are doing—so are we invited to grow in our worship. To listen more closely. To seek more intentionally. To move from imitation into deeper awareness of the God we are meeting. And yet, even in our partial understanding, even in our distracted moments, even in our imperfect worship—perhaps God looks upon us with the same kind of joy I felt that morning. Delighted not by our perfect understanding, but by our presence. By our willingness to come, to try, to be near. Maybe, even as we are still learning, simply showing up with open hearts… is enough.
Pastor Tae Park