Suffer the Children: Why a Children's Sermon?
A family recipe was passed down from grandmother to daughter to granddaughter. Everyone loved grandma’s famous roast. Garlicky, flavorful, and peppery goodness! What was the secret?
One evening the granddaughter—now in her twenties—was making the roast for her college friends. While preparing the roast, her friend questioned, “Why do you cut the end of the roast off?” She was told that was part of the recipe and its how she learned it from her mother. "It is the trick to the perfect roast!"
Curiosity set in after the dinner party and the young lady called her mother on the phone: “Why do we cut off the end of the roast in preparation for the oven?” The mother exclaimed, “That’s how I learned it from your grandma. It’s always the best!” Everyone in the family agrees—but it did not sit well with the young lady.
Curious still, she called her grandmother the next day. They caught up on school and boys and all the things that grandmas talk to their granddaughters about and eventually the roast came up. "It is always the best."
“Grandma, in the recipe that mom taught me and that you taught mom—why do we cut off the end of the roast before it goes into the oven?” The grandmother laughed to herself, and said, “Are you still doing that? When your mother was young I had to cut off the end of the roast because it would not fit into the pan I had.”
There are practices in churches that are done a certain way because they’ve always been done a certain way—at times with little historical or theological reflection. One such practice in a minority of reformed and presbyterian churches is the practice of the children’s sermon.
The children’s sermon is a short, simplified sermon or lesson given during a worship service, specifically directed at the children in the congregation. It usually occurs early in the service and is designed to communicate a biblical truth in a way that is engaging and understandable for young listeners.
You’ve seen it, I am sure. A time of prayer or singing ends and the pastor calls all the young children to the front. The pastor sits cross-legged on the floor and, at times, has some little object in his hand. The youngest children gather around and the pastor speaks directly to them for five minutes or so, addressing some biblical theme or character trait or aspect of the life and work of Jesus.
Parents lean in to see their children. There’s always that one—you know who he is. The message finishes and the little ones wander back to their seats as the worship service picks up where it left off.
In many ways, children’s sermons are like the roast whose ends are cut. The practice has spread over three generations; many see it as a spiritual good for the children; and few question its history or theology.
Boomer Beginnings
After the Second World War ended in 1945, many American soldiers returned home filled with optimism and a desire to begin life. Marriages happened quickly—and babies followed. Lots of them!
First comes love.
Then comes marriage.
Then comes baby in a baby carriage.
The boomers boomed into existence as the so-called Greatest Generation went to work, built homes, had babies, and created a culture. Part of that culture was a new focus on children and the psychology of children—from the cradle to the school—the professionals spoke into the ears of parents, as the boomers were raised.
In the cradle, Dr. Benjamin Spock—not the Star Trek character—spoke into the ears of parents, directing the way all things were done—and the emotions drove the practice. Spock said, "What good mothers and fathers instinctively feel like doing for their babies is usually best after all.” (The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care, vii.)
The feels towards the children continued as Freudian ideals were slowly brought into the life of the family. Cognitive Development, and the theories of child active learning—from sensorimotor to formal operational—began to assist the boom in raising all these new children. Piaget would say, “Each time one prematurely teaches a child something he could have discovered for himself, that child is kept from inventing it and consequently from understanding it completely.”
Children would have to “discover” in order to “understand” it—and this would affect public worship. One said, “A heightened focus on the child… came to symbolize the hopeful future of the postwar order.”
Psychological theory began to influence public worship.
In came the professionals.
Methodists and Mainlines
Since the Second Great Awakening, children’s services, Sunday Schools (which originally were for unchurched children, not covenant youth), and ministry directed towards children was rather common in American Christianity. Some pastors wrote tracts directly for children’s reading (See JC Ryle’s Boys and Girls Playing for a fine example of this.) These child-focused events, tracts, and classes were done outside of public worship and were not intended to replace public worship or be added to it.
After World War II, with the zeitgeist of the culture being focused on the education of all these children, there was a movement to make public worship more engaging for children. The 1950s and 1960s were the height of this trend, with children’s sermons being incorporated into Methodist, Episcopal, and traditional mainline settings. In Robert Lynn’s history of the United Methodist Church he commented on how quickly children’s sermons were incorporated into Methodist worship: “The children's sermon became widespread in the 1950s and 60s as part of a broader liturgical response to make worship more engaging and educational for all ages.”
The idea was that if you win the children, you will win the parents. Psychology drove this mid-century addition to public worship, rather than biblical principles of worship. Catherine Stonehouse said, “The increasing knowledge of child development made it clear that children could and should be addressed directly in worship.”
Piaget’s desire to have children “discover” as the means by which true understanding will occur—made pastors—but more importantly, concerned parents—desire—id est, demand—something more focused on the children. As Iain Murray said, not specific to children’s sermons, but concerning the decline of Scottish preaching:
“While it is debatable how far the opinion of the pew should control the pulpit, in the end it is the Christian hearers who are the judges of the preaching that edifies them the most.” (A Scottish Christian Heritage, 323)
Mothers demanded the children be addressed. It was necessary for their educational, psychological, and spiritual development.
Matrilineal Worship
It is no doubt that women have played a very important role in the life of the church. The New Testament speaks of prominent women who were supporters of the apostolic mission, giving their time, houses for worship, and finances for the gospel to go forward.
This was true also in missionary endeavors of the church. How many women sat praying for the gospel to go forward all while jarring jam, sewing quilts, or collecting product to go overseas. I do not disparage our Phoebes, Huldahs, Annas, or Dorcases… let’s call her Tabitha.
With that said, there are places, even in the reformed church, where matrilineal projection has won the day. In a 2020 article by Anthony Bradley, he wrote:
“Whose job was it to make sure children were clean, in good health, provided all of their calories, properly fed with a balanced diet, properly educated, appropriately clothed, religiously formed? Mothers. When children had to buy presents for birthday parties for their friends, teachers, and other family members, who primarily does all of that work? Mothers. When children need to bring food for events at school or have costumes made and designed? Mothers. Who largely does all this work? Mothers. Without mothers doing the lion’s share of the day-to-day work, family life would implode.
Moreover, women have always been more religiously active than men. The further and further we moved away from the 1950s, the more centralized the mother’s role became in connecting children to the life of the church. Whose job was it to get the children ready for church on Sunday morning? To make sure the children made it to Sunday School? ... Again, mothers. Without the active presence and initiation of women, not only would churches implode, the presence of active children would subside as well.” (American Evangelicalism isn’t patriarchal or feminized. It’s matrilineal.)
Among the demands of women speaking into the life of the church, came the demand for children’s sermons. “Surely the professionals know that we will lose our children to the world without speaking directly to them in a context that is for them alone. The professionals know this.”
From this perfect storm of post World War II boomers, along with an increased alliance with secular psychology, and a society ever leaning in a matrilineal direction—moms got what they wanted.
Children’s sermons were born in this psychologically perfect and effeminate storm.
Brothers, Are We Reformed?
As I noted earlier in this article, the children’s sermon has now spanned three generations. It is a long enough tradition that there are churches—even reformed churches—that will say with a clear conscience, “This is what we’ve always done.” Others will reflect on the last pastor or the man before him with sentimental thankfulness for his children’s sermons. “How the kids love it,” as if that is our standard for why we do anything as reformed believers.
Is it wrong?
Does it hurt anyone?
Does the Bible say not to?
I think they are helpful for the kids.
I think it is cute.
As reformed and presbyterian believers our principle of worship is not dependent on any of the above questions or comments. The standard of public worship in the Scriptures is found in the principle that we call “the regulative principle.” The Westminster Confession of Faith 21.1 says:
“The acceptable way of worshipping the true God is instituted by himself, and so limited to his own revealed will, that he may not be worshipped according to the imaginations and devices of men, or the suggestions of Satan, under any visible representations or any other way not prescribed in the Holy Scripture.”
Where are children’s sermons commanded in God’s Word? Did God institute these mini sermons for the benefit of the children of the church? The answer is no, and since the answer is no, churches ought to cease from this practice. No where in the Scriptures do we find God commanding special mini sermons that are directed to age specific groups during the public worship of God.
Worship is too holy and too wonderful for such things.
It is too pure.
Derek Thomas, writing on the above principle of worship said, “It is not enough that something may be edifying. It must also be commanded. The introduction of children’s sermons is a step away from the purity of worship.”
There is an absurdity to the whole thing when considered against the regulative principle. Surely people will push against the idea that they ought to be removed from our public worship—there will be opposition, for sure. Understanding the history and reasoning behind such intrusions into the public worship of God should remind us that purity of worship is a fragile thing; in many ways it is one generation away from being just "what we used to do."
GI Williamson said, “The public worship of God must be founded on what He has commanded, not on what we find helpful or cute. The children’s sermon has no warrant in Scripture.” It is unwarranted and has a history based more on Piaget than Moses or Jesus. That should mean something.
James Bannerman said, “The public ordinances of the Church are not to be administered according to the private fancies or imaginations of men, but according to the warrant and institution of Christ.” (The Church of Christ, 1.367) History shows us that the children’s sermon is according to "private fancy" rather than Christ’s warrant. Let’s put it aside—removing it from our churches—before it becomes essential history such as cutting off the end of the roast. Some will say, “It makes it better!” When in reality you know that it is just a tradition that has no real standing from God's Word.
It's time to let it go.