Beautiful Empty Buildings

I’ll admit when I’m sad, I’ll admit when I’m perplexed, but until recently I didn’t admit that I was angry. I’m telling you now, I’m angry. In January I entered a different realm of the Sunday school experience. I’ll call it ‘the Megakidsprogram.’
“This is our children’s wing,” announced my brother proudly touring me through the extensive halls lined with professionally created murals and cubby systems in his mid-Minnesota church.
I peered through the immaculate windows into rooms so elaborately decorated I’m sure they were seen in a recent issue of a design magazine. “The children’s wing cost $1.2 million, but kids are our priority you know,” Shawn added for effect. I searched for children as we ambled down the corridor. I hoped that I would hear happy voices emanating from the rooms and see kids greeted with open arms and enthusiasm.
Instead I saw the same picture that greets me every week in various churches across the country.
Children enter rooms to find the harried workers struggling to gather craft supplies and put snack on the table. The smile briefly and introduce themselves to their students who unenthusiastically sulk to a pre-arranged activity, play doe, legos or some other handy manipulative meant to entertain.
Funny enough, I never see kids staring admirably at the murals of the walls or the giant giraffes hanging in the halls. I never hear them comment about the beauty of the rooms they occupy for such a short period of time on Sundays. They obediently play, then join in circle time for the lesson of the day; create the corresponding craft and pray for their snack. They leave with their trinket in hand and a new Bible verse to memorize for the week. In some churches they’ve behaved so well that they earned two more tokens for the church store, a fine trade off for listening to a cute story from that ancient book that we call the Bible.
I breathe deeply on this warm Minnesota day as my brother explains that the church nets $2 million a year in revenue, so this wing required a special capital campaign. I wonder why they spent so much money for so few kids, after all, I only see a handful here and there. Where are the kids? I wonder to myself. Then I switch gears.
“How do your kids like church?” I’m curious. “What are their teachers like?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Shawn replies nonchalantly, “the teachers seem nice.”
“Really? What are their names?” I ask. He shrugs and leads me out of the wing to the in-house coffee shop. I’m astounded, but not surprised, to find bunches of kids here sipping on hot chocolate and eating cookies. They are laying on the floors in bunches; more of them are waiting in line with dollars in hand to purchase goodies. “I guess the food here is better than the snacks in that big expensive wing,” I quip with my brother. Uncomfortably he comments about the outstanding quality of the food and service of the coffee shop. I did find the coffee quite good, I admit.
When the music began, the masses, children included, filed dutifully into the gigantic meeting hall. After the first few songs, and then announcements, the kids are ‘dismissed’ to their classrooms. Most file out like little soldiers to the halls beyond as the music began again, however some remain steadfastly in their seats, apparently unaware of the wonders of the Children’s wing or the beauty that graces its walls.
These refugees in the adult experience entertain themselves adequately, with only a few climbing in, on, and around their parents and neighbors.
I scan the program hoping for a list of parenting classes, family activities, or child centered discussion questions that relate to the weekly topics or sermon. What I find is a list of classroom services, and nothing more.
There is no information on what the children are actually learning in those hallowed halls, no follow up contacts or reports on the spiritual health of the congregation’s children. There is nothing to even hint that any constructive lasting Christian education was taking place in that big, beautiful building.
According to statistics, most church pastors and leaders have no idea of the status of the spiritual health of their youngest members.
They don’t know the content that is being taught in those classrooms, and their budgets reflect a lack of priority for the Children’s ministry.
Of course, this particular church is the exception. With $1.2 million dollars spent on an elaborate building, I would hope that they would spend equal effort on the staff that teaches within that building. However, I know that is not the case.
As with most churches in America, children’s programs are staffed with strictly volunteers. The ‘Children’s Minister’ may be a paid employee, but the rest of the teachers in the trenches, caring for the spiritual needs of the children, are nothing more than good willed babysitters. Most rotate through on a weekly basis, never really getting to know the personalities or needs of their students.
They use canned curriculum meant to entertain and bombard the class with endless silly tails and crafts. This is not a criticism of the volunteers themselves, but a lashing of the lack of priorities in American churches.
So, let me state this plainly: Stop spending money on beautiful empty buildings and spend it where it counts: on your people.
I can hear the gasps now; the shuddering the book-keepers. What is she saying? What is she proposing? Is she saying we should pay our teachers?
Yes! Exactly! Let me be so bold to suggest that people are more important than buildings. Let me shock you and suggest that your children will never remember those elaborate murals or stuffed penguins, but they might remember the person that showed up every week and got to know them. That person can help them understand the love of Jesus Christ, that person might even lead them to the saving grace of Christ, and rejoice with them when they accept that salvation. That person, a very valuable person indeed, deserves the opportunity to be paid by the church body who values their children.
That $1.2 million could have paid the entire staff of the church I entered in January for the next 25 years- a whole generation of children within its reach.
If you think paying your staff is counter-Christian, then let me challenge you in that regard. What exactly are you saying to the volunteer when you offer a paid position?
1. We, as a church, value you as a teacher.
2. We hold you responsible for planning for the Sunday experience.
3. We believe you will consistently come to work prepared and ready for the challenges of the day.
4. We expect that you will take seriously the job of educating our children.
5. We believe you are capable of teaching to the spiritual needs of our children.
6. You are on a team of individuals who value the children in our church.
Look at this another way.
We, without hesitation, pay our pastors. We pay our associate pastors, we pay our worship leaders, we pay our Children’s minister. Why are we so hesitant to pay our teachers who work directly with our children and families?
The skills necessary to correctly execute a Sunday experience for children is ominous. Every Sunday school teacher knows how very difficult this can be.
First, you have an erratic number of children usually arriving hungry and tired.
They are most likely at different ability levels and skills.
You are teaching them a theological philosophy and ancient traditional practices combined with modern relevancies.
You are trying to instill in them the opposite worldview than the outside world they live in.
You have various family situations, tragedies, lifestyles to adjust to.
You use curriculum that is often not age appropriate or relatable.
You have only one hour a week to create a Christian.
To top it all off, you are only in the classroom one day a month, so you have no idea the names, backgrounds, situations, personalities, or abilities of the students you are supposed to teach.
If you gave this classroom recipe to a seasoned public school teacher, they would laugh and call it impossible. In education, the one factor that creates success is consistency.
In public and private education, teachers see students daily, they find out who they are, where they came from, and what they are capable of.
They have consistent curriculum, proven strategies, and ample support. Oh, and yes, they are paid.
Hm. So, if we took that money from that big, expensive renovation and gave it to our teachers, how might this change the consistency in your Sunday school classroom?
Could you perhaps have the teachers rotate on a different schedule?
Could you even suggest that teachers not rotate at all, but instead devote their heart and souls to these kids?
If you demonstrated through compensation that you valued and trusted your teachers, how many would take ownership of the experience and really invest in the families that they serve?
My money says yes. There is no downside to offering compensation, if you have it, to your teachers. In fact, I believe this is the first step to a better program.