We picked up school supplies yesterday. Mask-wearing teachers stood in a row, their faces hidden. That vital connection between student and teacher felt lost in the thick air between our car window and the fabric of her mask. Sam’s best friend tried to climb out of his car so he could feel closer to his friend. His mom told him to get back in.
We are tired of this. Tired of living this not-living kind of life.
We miss our family. We miss our friends. We miss human touch and free laughter bubbling from our hairdresser’s lips, holidays with children running free, the smile of the checker at the grocery store, the trips we were planning, the sleepovers and crowds and rooms filled with worship.
The last few years, our ministry hosted prayer gatherings in our city, where women cried and hugged and sang at the top of their lungs, and blew their noses all in the same room. Together we prayed for our homes, neighborhoods, each other, our country: fearless and faithful.
I’m wondering, are we okay with prayer in schools now?
When our nation removed the fear of God from our schools, there the unraveling began. Taking away the bedrock of faith upon which this nation was founded was a grave mistake — and I’m wondering if anyone is bold enough to say it’s time to invite Him back in?
Does anyone remember that Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14, Luke 18:16, Mark 10:14). And those children grow up to be adults who set the tone for neighborhoods and nations.
What do we plan to do next? Go back to empty hallways with empty hands again? Or will we courageously bow down on that hallowed ground the way our founders once did, asking God to fill them with His purpose?
As the President of the United States recently said, we need prayer everywhere. It is essential.
Let’s not have to relearn this one, folks.
It takes a humble person to bow his head and thank God for the little children, to repent of the lie that we didn’t need Him in their lives, ask forgiveness, and ask for His Presence once again.
In Texas we call that eating a big piece of humble pie.
Perhaps it’s time.