“Onward March”
It’s cold this week on the Front Range of the Rockies. It dropped to -7 last night, but has warmed up to 5 as I sit down to write, having just come in from shoveling the driveway and sidewalk of the couple inches of new snow that fell Sunday evening on top of the 4” or so that fell Friday and Saturday.
The cold cancelled the Martin Luther King Jr. Day March here in Fort Collins that commences in Old Town (the city’s historic downtown) and wends its way to the Colorado State University campus for a program. So, the activities were moved indoors like the Inauguration.
With the weekend’s bitter cold and snow, Jennie and I wondered aloud on the way to church how many intrepid people would brave the elements to come to worship vs. stay home and watch online. We guessed fifty. We also guessed three to five kids might be there, a guess that informed my preparation for my children’s sermon, which involved making signs for a march.
I’ll come back to the march, but first, my history with children’s sermons. I’ve done my share of them dating back to my own kids sitting on the chancel steps of the churches of their childhood to dutifully listen to their dad … again. Sigh.
Of our three kids, Laura, our extrovert, was the most engaged. She’d scamper up ahead of the other kids with her friend Zach in tow, and plop down next to me. When I asked a question, she’d raise her hand, usually in front of my face, saying, “I know! I know! I know!” in a tone of increasing volume and urgency that if not responded to with my inviting her to answer would lead to the raised hand moved ever closer to my face.
“Laura,” I’d whisper as I waited for another hand to go up, “put your hand down and let someone else answer.” To which she’d say in a whisper audible from the back row of the sanctuary, “But I know the answer, Daddy. I know! Pick me!”
Somewhere along the way (Give me a few years and I learn), I learned that asking questions in children’s sermons are invitations for all sorts of shenanigans, including a) the kids who answer with l-e-n-g-t-h-y discourses that guarantee the service will go beyond Noon and allow the Baptists to get to the restaurants for lunch before my congregation, causing them to shift in the pews and steal glances at their watches even before I stand up to preach; b) the kids who try to say something funny because they said something once that evoked laughter and thereafter try to be the life of the party again (and again and again); c) Silence. Crickets. No hands. No stand-up comedy (or sit-down, as it were). Not even Laura venturing a guess. Yes, there are occasions when you receive a gem of a response. “Out of the mouths of babes.” But the preponderance of less-than-satisfying responses led me to change my mode of children’s sermons from didactic lessons to participatory experiences.
Last Sunday, for example, thanks to picking Jennie’s brain on how to lift up MLK, Jr. Day with Heart of the Rockies’ kids, she suggested, “How about inviting them to march with you?”
That’s all I needed to hear. I took it from there.
Every march includes signs, right? So, I made a dozen signs with MLK-appropriate sayings on them, including:
Love your neighbor
Love wins
God is love
Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly
Blessed are the peacemakers
The time is always right to do what’s right
Honesty is the best policy
Try a little tenderness
You are beloved
I stand for kindness
Liberty and justice for all
Build bridges, not barriers
I invited the kids (We had 7 – double what Jennie and I predicted – and 80 in worship – 50% more than our prognostication) to pick up a sign and line up behind me for a march. And since Dr. King’s marches were accompanied by singing, I asked the kids and congregation to join in with We Shall Overcome (which, when I told Jennie I was going to do, elicited from her a stern warning that I should not be the one to start the singing because I have no sense whatsoever of proper pitch which means I tend to start way too high or way too low and usually not even on the right note which is pretty much disastrous for congregational singing). So, before the service I tipped off Ruth, our Music Director, about what I was going to do. She got us started on the right pitch.
We had our MLK Day march. We wended our way up and down the aisles of the sanctuary holding our signs and singing. Then this: members of the congregation slipped out of their seats and joined us. Our march increased in number to the point that we had a veritable wedding reception conga line of marchers singing We’ll walk hand-in-hand, We shall all be free, and a bonus verse of We shall overcome, signs displaying, smiles broadening, even a few tears shed at the spontaneous, multigenerational, joyous verve of it all.
Following the children’s sermon, when it was time for the grown ups’ sermon, I noted this year’s juxtaposition of MLK Day with Inauguration Day. The two have only coincided twice: the 1997 second inauguration of Bill Clinton and the 2013 second inauguration of Barack Obama. It won’t happen again until 2053. To honor the juxtaposition of the days, I preached Jesus’ inaugural address in Luke 4:16-21.
The content of Jesus’ inaugural address?
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
As far as I’m concerned, wannabe Christian that I am, those themes ought to inform and guide every administration everywhere always.
And as far as I’m concerned, I hope there will always be prophets like Dr. King to call every administration everywhere always to the administration of the kingdom values Jesus inaugurated in Nazareth.
How concerned am I that administrations everywhere will always be informed and guided by the themes Jesus proclaimed in his inaugural address and that there will always be prophets to hold administrations everywhere in check?
I’m concerned.
But faith keeps my concern in check. I’m grateful beyond measure to be part of a march that has been underway for centuries – millennia, in fact – a march that has kept on keepin’ on through every administration everywhere always and is sure – sure! – to proceed … and prevail.
Onward march.
