Sometimes it takes going away to get a new perspective on what you have. The very same house that might have seemed like the walls were closing in a week earlier suddenly is familiar and comforting after a brief absence.
My kids told me yesterday they are bored by church. And while part of me worries over this, wondering how to engage them authentically in things of faith, another part of me thinks boredom is okay. Because every week they hear the same words again, it’s like solid ground is growing beneath their feet, solid in the reliability of words that outlast the ages.
One day they will be away, and some great need will drive them to their knees. Their hands will reach to that ground and find that words that floated past them so many times, words like redemption and hope and sacrifice, will have grown heavy in their hands, with comfort and weight enough to sustain them through even the darkest night. And if that means now, for a time, they are bored? I’m willing to live with that.