From my vantage point at the back, I noticed her radiant smile and his hand raised in worship. Two worshipers juxtaposed across my line of vision. These teens unashamedly and joyfully responded to God, their faith in Jesus on display, and it brought me to tears.

I had spent the worship service much like I spend it every week— passing out paper and markers, rummaging for other quiet activities to keep little hands busy and little voices quiet, hearing bits and pieces of the sermon, bouncing a baby on my hip, whispering variations of “Shh time to stop talking, Pastor Shayne is praying.”—in short, doing every thing I could to keep my children from distracting others. 

Our small church doesn’t have a children’s ministry, so everyone is together. I love much about this arrangement. My children experience all the aspects of church together. They can tell you what the communion elements mean and why we celebrate it every week. They see adults pray and sing.They get to see Daddy play the guitar and preach sometimes. But I’d be a liar if I said it is easy. Sometimes I’m bone tired, weary, and wish I could listen to the sermon without my four little “distractions” in tow. Sometimes I hand out markers with an overwhelmed, grudging heart. And more than once I’ve wished I could send them along to their own classes and call it a day.

So it was at the end of another such service when I noticed two teenagers simply, humbly, worshiping. Neither was putting on a show or drawing attention to themselves. Several thoughts intersected in my mind—

“Is it even worth it?” I’ve asked myself. “Are they taking in anything? Am I teaching them they can worship too, or to just be quiet so the adults can concentrate?” 

First, the teens’ sincerity deeply encouraged me and spurred my own heart to respond. The worship service was not about me or whether I was inconvenienced. It wasn’t about being able to sit with rapt attention in the front with a notebook and pen in hand. Worship is about God. And my heart needed to remember I can worship even when it’s not easy and doesn’t look the way I long for it to look. And how does my attitude seep through to my children? What are the messages I’m sending? My self-focus almost missed something beautiful—the heartfelt responses of others around me, and the opportunity to bow my own heart to God.

The body of Christ is such a marvelous gift. They probably had no idea anyone was watching, but I needed the testimonies of these young ones— their radiant smiles and raised hands. I needed them to encourage and convict. 

The teenagers at our church are fantastic, and not just these two. All of them seek ways to help and serve. I see their willingness to use their gifts and desire to grow in their faith. They participate in community group and add thoughtful comments to the discussion. They give me so much hope for the next generation.

They give me hope that my small people see them also. 

And they do. “When I’m a teenager I’m going to sing and play the guitar at church!” sweet voices proclaim. 

Secondly, I breathed a prayer, “Oh that I would get to see my own children worshiping with joy and zeal! Lord let the Word fall on good ground. Let its roots grow deep. Let it produce fruit one hundred fold.” In the soil cultivating, seed planting days we pray for rain. Harvest seems so far away.

Yet these teens are not so far removed from their childhood—and God is clearly at work. My children not only see adults who love Jesus, but they also get to observe some who are closer in age. These young friends are seed planters also, and they may not even know it. 

And I remind myself that all these hours gathering with the church are not wasted. God is using this time. Small people begin to understand Jesus is not just a word, but a real, living person, the Savior whose body was broken and whose blood was poured out for them. They see he’s worth the center, the focus of our affections. 

Finally, I also knew a moment of grief for another teenage girl, exuberant, “on fire” for Jesus with faith largely untested who knew God could move mountains. She was the girl serving any way she could, eager to go on mission trips, work at camp, and change the world. She dreamed of doing “big things for God.” Limitations? Nah. God could do whatever he wanted. I was that girl. At fourteen my life had turned a 180 and I’d never looked back. 

“Take my life and let it be consecrated Lord to thee,” I prayed upon many a church stair. 

So I grieved the girl with fewer scars and big expectations, the girl with a fresh face, not yet battle worn. For a moment I missed the days when the Christian life seemed limitless. Big things were on the horizon. Opportunities abounded. I couldn’t wait to see what this wild and wonderful life held.

I also missed the freedom of young adult days, when limits and responsibilities still were few, when I could give myself to the ways I wanted to serve God. Life has a way of looking nothing like one expects, however. Even the things we long for, pray for, and dearly love feel lack luster some days. Answered prayer may be a delight, but the life we craved more difficult than we knew. We sing “Father use my ransomed life in any way you choose,” and mean it. But sometimes we wonder if what he chooses truly is best.

Time and trials refract our big dreams, bending them with changed perspectives. I can grieve that zealous, enthusiastic teenager, but also be thankful the Ami in her 40s looks radically different than her. And if I live long enough, the Ami I’ll be in my 80s will also be radically different than the me I am now. Life lived brings maturity, wisdom, and more shades of gray- not everything is black and white. Mercifully, sanctification is progressive.

Perhaps God doesn’t have big things for me to do right now. Perhaps I need to learn faithfulness in the small things. 

Limitations aren’t always a bad thing— The King of the universe limited himself. The limitless one took on limits, fences, boundaries. He put on skin that sweat, stank after a long day, and needed washing just like his brothers. He put on a body subject to fatigue and illness. He limited his understanding so his brain would develop like the other children around him. Ultimately he limited his power, and refused to rescue himself that we could be rescued. 

So maybe my limits are also good.

Maybe I need to remind myself. “Do small stuff for God. Despise not every day faithfulness.” In the upside down (or truly right side up) Kingdom of Christ, small things become big things.

I’m not here to be a cynic, or rob my young friends of zeal or big dreams. Please keep dreaming guys! For truly nothing is impossible for God. You could indeed be a William Carey or Amy Carmichael. Or for more modern references – a Jackie Hill Perry or David Platt. 

The Kingdom still needs dreamers, and the weary moms in the back need you.

But I’ll tell you, young friends, the plans God has for you probably look much different than the plans you have for yourself. The road will take unexpected turns. There will be more thorns and storms than you’d like to think. The valleys may be exceptionally deep. But, there will also be more fragrant flowers and more ravishing sunsets than you can imagine. 

God’s path is hard. But God’s path is worth it. There are indeed higher joys and deeper peace as we learn Christ.

We like to tell the young “God has a spectacular plan for you. He could use your life in mighty ways.” Young friends, we are not lying to you. But perhaps God’s spectacular plan, the mighty things he can do in and through you aren’t visible things. Maybe mighty isn’t always a public platform or large influence.

Maybe spectacular is a heart with bed rock, unshakeable faith. Maybe spectacular is one who gives the shirt off his back. Maybe spectacular is doing the unseen things, without commendation or applause. 

Also, I think we misunderstand spectacular’s time frame. What if we don’t see spectacular in this life? All we need do is step outside or glance at a headline to remember much in a fallen world is definitely not spectacular. So we orient our hearts to eternity, where there’s much we do not yet know. However, without doubt we do know it is there that “God has a spectacular plan for you” comes to its full and marvelous fruition. Look to Jesus—eternity will be beyond spectacular. 

So young friends, set your eyes on the cross. Since we know spectacular will come, you can confidently lay your dreams at his feet. He may shape them, mold them, ask for them, or strip them away. But if he does, know you have a Father who is always good. He might take your dream, remake it, and hand it right back to you when the time is right. Or he might replace it with a different dream. Either way, his plan is better. 

Better doesn’t mean easier, a life always marked by sunshine and cool breezes, but it does mean he is there. And it does mean he is sovereign. And it does mean he is always kind. And it does mean you can trust him. 

Keep on worshiping with a sincere heart. Keep outwardly responding. Hang on to your enthusiasm, and let God’s light shine through. There’s a weary mom at the back who needs you.