I yelled at a woman in the church pews on Sunday.
There I was…alone in a pew with five children I desperately wanted to go to Sunday school, so they could have fun with friends and learn about Jesus. I had loved Sunday school as a kid, and I hoped they would too.
I picked an empty row and shuffled everyone in. Of course, the delicious breads, coffee, and water were always a hit.
My middle child served the others like a tiny barista, grinning as he handed out cups. I wondered if he’d grow up to make lattes and people smile for a living. Parents always see their kids’ heart postures more clearly than anyone else, don’t they? His heart for others has always been there.
I stood up and showed my children how I worshipped. How I sing to the LORD with my eyes closed. How long had it been since I let myself do that in church? 9 years maybe…But moments later, my three year old leaned back in her chair and nearly fell.
First glare from onlookers.
How could she not see her daughter?
Humiliation washed over me.
I was trying to be present in worship so my kids could learn by example. Apparently, that was the wrong choice. Instead of participating in service, I was supposed to stand there sterile and hyper vigilant.
Weren’t we told to worship?
Weren’t we told to model faith for our children?
It felt like a lose‑lose.
I had gotten everyone ready, thrown myself together last, and even planned to pick up lunch afterward because the mental exhaustion of keeping everyone “behaved” in church is a weekly workout. Some Sundays the exhaustion hits before we even leave the house, and I chicken out entirely.
But then the mom guilt kicks in—don’t keep them from Him, so this week I pressed on.
As service continued, my three year old made noise. Not loud, and not disruptive in the slightest. If it had escalated, I would have removed her, but then I heard the sound every mom dreads…
“Shhhh.”
I couldn’t believe it. I was standing right there. A woman had slipped in behind us and sat in the circus I call my everyday life.
Purposely.
Twenty minutes into expecting children to sit still, and she had the nerve to correct mine.
That was the beginning of the end of my day.
I turned around and pulled out a classic mother move.
“Do not tell my children what to do. I can take care of them.”
She heard the snap in my voice and my fingers . She was startled, offended, and told me I had a problem.
“You’re right, I do have a problem. Don’t tell my kids to be quiet.”
I was stunned. And then it hit me…if this is how we treat families, eventually the church will be empty.
New believers won’t dare walk in.
Parents with children won’t stay.
Church Christians can be their own worst enemy claiming to walk with Christ while sitting spiritually dead in the pews.
Kids have become an inconvenience, an expensive disruption. Did you also notice few and fewer people are having them?
Brook and I once looked up the statistics, and our family setup is less than 1% of the population. My mom jokes we’re one of three families in America with our combination of lifestyle and numbers.
The kids went onto class, and I took a deep breath as I walked around with the baby.
As I loaded the kids into the car afterwards. I heard the good‑hearted pastor say,
“Invite someone to church.”
And in my head I said, never.
Never would I invite another mom to be humiliated. Never would I ask her to endure stress, anxiety, and the feeling of losing her gold star—only to leave feeling worse than when she arrived.
It wasn’t the pastor’s fault. His heart is good. But for me, and probably countless others, the most judgmental places I’ve ever been are inside church walls. Yes, there’s a difference between judgment and rebuke. I’m not excusing the need for accountability. But at what point does a congregation remember that real life exists outside these walls?
Surprisingly, the people who don’t judge my children who I interact with regularly outside of church are the kindest to us. The kindest lady in church, Judy, still talked to me regularly outside of those Sunday shining smiles. I found it refreshing she was the same person outside the walls. She had a pure heart…a rare sight to find.
We see them in their businesses and everyday lives. They see the real us, and we see the real them. Their hearts show out there not in here.
Do people not understand that when someone drags themselves into church, they’re usually carrying something heavy?
Jobs and bills.
Marriages under attack.
Friendships in weird seasons.
Dreams that never happened.
Sickness, addiction, depression, confusion…or those awful expectations, reputations, and pressures.
Life is supposed to become lighter when we give it to Christ…so why does the heaviest place feel like the house of the Lord?
I was disgusted with humanity, and even more in awe that Jesus loves us at all.
We’re all broken.
We all have messes.
We all need Him.
If it was for me, I wouldn’t step foot in a building again. But I endure the whispers and the looks, so they can get to Sunday school.
I desperately want it to be different.
I want to make a difference for other moms.
Go be with Jesus but remember, you don’t have to go quietly…that’s not the way church was made to be.
John 6:37 (NIV)
All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away
Rachel Redlin is a columnist, author, journalist, and award-winning radio host. She lives in Northwest Kansas with her husband and five children, where she writes about faith, food, and the simple everyday life. Want to read more or contact us? You can subscribe to the FREE newsletter at www.simplybloominggrace.com
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