Usurped by Children

I am called lots of things. Some of them refer to my relationships: husband, father, brother, son, friend. Some of them refer to my vocation: cultural architect, minister, facilitator, evangelist, teacher, pastor, church planter. Some of them refer to my inadequacies: ...well, I better not quote those; they might be a little inappropriate. Much of our roles, in modernity, have been compartmentalized. I am a pastor while I am talking with people in our church. I am an evangelist when I meet new people. I am a husband when I am at home. I am incompetent when I sit the bench on a church softball team. I am a (insert expletive) when I sit too long at a green light.

But alas, the days of compartmentalizing are approaching their demise. Some instances require a blending of my roles. Like when I am leading a spiritual conversation in our church around a biblical text and someone is really struggling with something in her personal life. I see the tears. I see the anguish. Yet I assume the depth of the passage is moving her, despite the fact that she has shared the difficulty moments ago...before the tears began. I focus more on the passage, get excited, and anticipate the spiritual renewal of this poor girl. Blended roles: pastor and moron.

Or when I go to an extended family gathering, like Thanksgiving Dinner...or a Memorial Day cook-out...or my niece's birthday party (as I did this past weekend). At that moment, I am the uncle, brother, son, husband, father, and D.R.P. - the Designated Religious Person. The DRP is the person in the family deemed more spiritual than the others. Somehow we DRP's are assumed to be more spiritual because we have been to school, get paid to be that way, and spend quite a bit of time blogging about things like being the DRP. At any rate, the role of every family DRP, at every family gathering, is to pray before the meal. Sure, we are the brunt of the occasional "take up the collection" joke. And there is the rare occasion when we are consulted as the family authority on some moral issue. But mostly, we pray before meals. It's my blended role: Uncle DRP...Brother DRP...Father DRP.

It is, quite honestly, a hat I wear like a load of gravel. It is heavy. It weighs upon me. The role brings such unattainable expectations with it - at least for me. See, I don't pray well. I am not articulate in my praying. I do not pray for long. I run out of things to say. I have taken those spiritual gift inventories before. Prayer scores consistently last for me. So the inevitable question always makes me uneasy. It is always asked in private, usually in a low voice: "Jonathan, will you ask the blessing for us today?" My response, as the DRP, is always "Yes." And then the worrying ensues. "What am I going to pray about other than the food?" "Am I going to live up to the expectations of the super-spiritual DRP?" "Are there any family celebrations that have yet gone unnamed that I need to include in the prayer?" On Veteran's Day, I was asked by my wife's grandfather to "ask the blessing." It was a big deal because he is a veteran; Veteran's Day is emotional for him. I had to ask my wife what Veteran's Day celebrated. Blended: DRP, Husband, Moron.

As I stated above, the inevitable happened this past weekend at my niece's birthday party. While I was standing outside on the patio, my sister approached me and carefully, quietly, almost in a whisper, asked me, Brother DRP, "will you ask the blessing in a few minutes for us?" My reply? Same as usual: "Yes." I started thinking, - well, worrying really - about what I was going to pray. Do I thank God for all six years of my niece's life? Ask God to give her six more? Or do I try to get all elaborate and articulate about God guiding her steps as she comes to know him more? Or do I just stick to asking God to bless the pizza? I went inside, sat on the sofa and thought about it. Moments later, my sister came in, announced to the children and their parents that we were now going to say the blessing, and gave me the nod. I responsively moved forward in my seat, getting into the more assertive prayer posture. I quickly collected my thoughts, hoping that it would all come to me as I got started, and then the unusual happened. My two nieces announced that they wanted to say the prayer! What? Not the DRP? I know...it almost sounds blasphemous! My sister looked at me; I nodded, and sat back in my seat feeling much more passive. They sang the prayer, and when they started, the rest of the children joined in. I had heard them sing it many times before, but never so many. The simplicity and innocence struck me as they sang these words to the tune of "Are You Sleeping Brother John?":

Thank you God, thank you God
For our food, for our food
Thank you very much, thank you very much
Amen. Amen.

Imagine fifteen children singing that together. It's simple; it's honest; it's to the point; and to this DRP, it was poignant. Can you believe it? Upstaged by children. The supreme spirituality of the DRP with all of his theological degrees, experience in teaching others about the ways of God, and theological conversations...deflated by the melodious-but-often-off-pitch voices of children.

I think maybe we, as adults, have placed too many expectations on the eloquence of our prayers. I think maybe we need to learn from the simplicity of fifteen children singing "Thank you, God" to the tune of "Are You Sleeping." I think maybe we need to make the kids the DRP's.