To teach a child about God is to be willing to forget your own name so Jesus is the One they remember.
No matter how many times I introduce myself, even the regular members of my classroom most often refer to me simply as “teacher.” With a name like Miss Breelynn, I really don’t blame them for avoiding the hassle after a few unsuccessful attempts at my name.
When I think about this, I can’t help but think of the many times Jesus bore the title “teacher.” I wonder if the children who gathered at His feet knew His name. I wonder if He felt the same kind of weight on His shoulders that I do when a little one calls me “teacher.”
Like most, I question if I am capable of that kind of responsibility. I second-guess myself, unsure if my efforts will really make a difference. But over and over again, I am reminded that it is not my own ability that matters. Because of Jesus, I am part of something bigger than myself, bigger than the weight my own name could ever carry. On Sundays, I forget my name. When I enter my classroom, I am simply a reflection of Jesus. I’m a shepherd, faithfully wrangling in my wandering sheep. I’m a teacher, showing every child that he or she is cared for.
In five years, the children we minister to may not remember the many times we sat around the table to sing our prayers before snack, but they will remember the importance of prayer. They may not remember the funny puppets or the enormous Bible book, but they will remember the stories they were told.
They may not remember us, but they will know Christ.
If you’ve been questioning your own ability to serve in Children’s Ministries, now is the time to forget your name! (But you may have to put it at the top of your application first.)
