This past Lord’s Day I preached a children’s sermon. Twice. One was for the little ones in our congregation. Then a few hours later I used the same message, with a slightly different application, in the afternoon chapel with the folks in the dementia unit where my mom lives.
In some ways, the contrast in audiences could not have been greater. In the morning I was surrounded by little ones with fresh faces, tidy clothes, and squirmy bodies. In the afternoon gathered round me were the aged with dulled expressions, slept-in and spilt-on clothes, and tired, worn out bodies. The morning group’s minds needed filling with new lessons perhaps never heard, while the afternoon group needed minds filled with old lessons now forgotten. Clearly, both groups needed a lesson fitted for a child’s mind.