For most of the past year, I’ve been trying to find the right words.
I’m building AlreadyLoved, a personalized children’s book that helps parents speak God’s love into their child’s life. And I kept working on how to explain it.
The headline. The pain point. The thing that would make a parent say, “Yes. That’s what I want.”
Somewhere in all that marketing work, a simple sentence finally surfaced:
“I want my child to know God for themselves.”
And I recognized it.
That’s what I’ve wanted all these years leading worship, too.
Different setting. Same desire.
Whether I’m holding a microphone or helping a parent open a book at bedtime, I want to help someone know Him.
Not just know what to say about Him.
Know Him.
We can surround our children with Christian things.
Bible stories. Songs. Shows. Memory verses. Church every Sunday.
I’m grateful for those things. But I wonder if we sometimes mistake a child’s ability to repeat what we’ve taught them for a relationship with the One we’re teaching them about.
And honestly, I wonder that about myself.
I can know the songs. Explain the lyrics. Lead the room.
And still get so occupied with what we’re doing that I lose sight of who we’re with.
That’s why encounter matters so much to me.
Not because every service needs a dramatic moment. But because there’s a difference between discussing someone’s love and becoming aware that they love you.
The God I’ve heard about becomes personal.
His kindness has something to do with my actual life. My fear. The thing I’m ashamed of. The question I haven’t said out loud.
And once you’ve tasted that, doing religious things just for the sake of doing them isn’t enough anymore.
You want Him.
For a child, that might begin with something very ordinary.
Someone was cruel at school.
They’re afraid in the dark.
They lied, and now they don’t know what happens next.
Knowing that God helped David matters. But so does discovering: He is with me when I’m afraid, too.
Not just, “God is loving.”
But, “Can I come to Him after what I just did?”
That’s where what we teach about God meets the life our child is actually living.
And it starts with who.
Who is this God? What is He like? How does He see me?
As they come to know who He is, they begin to understand who they are in His love.
That’s what I mean by identity-first parenting.
And I’m realizing it’s what I mean by worship, too.
Before, “What song should we sing?”
Who are we singing to?
Before, “How do I get everyone to engage?”
Who are these people He loves, and how can I help them notice Him?
The practical questions still matter. But they make more sense when I remember who they’re for.
I thought I was trying to explain a book.
I think I was remembering what I’m here for.
I want to help people know God for themselves. The God revealed in Jesus. Not just inherit someone else’s words about Him, but find themselves addressed by His love.
I can’t manufacture that encounter. A parent can’t either. There isn’t a book or a song that guarantees it.
But we can make room. We can tell the stories, welcome the questions, pray together, and live in ways that help His love become recognizable.
I keep coming back to this picture of being a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord.
There’s something about that I love.
After all my work trying to find the right words, perhaps the words I’ve been reaching for are simpler than I thought:
“Come in. I want you to meet Him.”
See you next Friday