Learning To Multiply

The first Sunday my husband and I visited our new church, we were made to feel welcome, but something was missing. The tiny congregation, made up mostly of older people, had no children. We knew God had led us to this church. It was plain to see we were needed. Everyone longed to hear the sound of children's laughter echo through the building. What could I do to help? I already taught school during the week and worked nights at a second job. Still, I felt God's tugging. Could He be leading me to teach the children we hoped would come? Where would I find the physical strength? Most of all, where would the kids come from?

A young mother and her two-year-old daughter Sierra began attending church. Dark, tightly curled ringlets framed the little girl's warm brown eyes and irresistible smile. I fell hopelessly in love with Sierra. Each time I turned around, she had her arms outstretched, waiting for me to pick her up. God, there is only this one child, I prayed. Can we reach more? Please help us multiply into many children. The following spring a vision for a Vacation Bible School struck me. And I knew I was the only one who could direct it. And though it was summer vacation, with my second job I would still have to function on four to five hours of sleep each night if I directed the week-long VBS. I prayed for strength and we launched into the program.

Some said we couldn't do it, but our church's grandmas and grandpas showed up in force to go door knocking, them mustered their energy, skills, and do what was needed. Kids came. We were successful. At the end of the week, we had a church school promotional picnic. Next came the question: who would teach the Primary/Junior class? We didn't even have teaching materials. Feeling nudged, I committed to six months. I dug remnants of teaching materials out of storage and poured my heart into the program. Before long we averaged fifteen to twenty kids each week. Less than a year later, I watched six eager Juniors and one older brother tell of their love for God and be baptized. I was so happy I cried and thanked God.

Now the once-quiet halls of our church ring with children's laughter after worship. And when I feel that familiar tug at my skirt, I gather little Sierra into my arms. I can hardly wait for the day she is old enough to join my class, for I will continue teaching. With God's help, not only the children, but my commitment to love and teach has multiplied.