How Our Worship Sessions Used to Be
Alright, so yesterday afternoon at Living Waters Family Worship felt like herding cats. Seriously. The kids were squirming on the couch, my spouse kept glancing at their phone, and I was trying way too hard to make some “deep point” nobody cared about. It felt stiff. Forced. Like everyone was just waiting for it to be over. I knew we could do better than this religious chore.
Waking Up Determined to Fix It
Woke up this morning and decided enough was enough. Grabbed my coffee, sat at the messy kitchen table, and actually thought: “What went wrong?” Started scribbling ideas on a napkin because my notebook was buried somewhere. Realized we focused too much on my talk, not enough on them.
The Workshop Phase
Pulled the family together after breakfast, didn’t prep them, just blurted it out: “Right, worship this evening is gonna change. We’re doing it together.” Got some blank stares. Didn’t care. Here’s what I actually did step-by-step:
- Cleared the dining table completely. Pushed chairs aside. Made physical space.
- Rummaged through the cupboard and pulled out a big glass bowl, filled it with water – just plain tap water. Plonked it right in the middle of the table.
- Grabbed everyone’s songbooks, my battered guitar, and the kid’s crayons/paper. Dumped it all near the bowl. No fancy setup.
- Insisted everyone pick one thing for tonight: a song, a prayer topic, a verse, a story, anything. Didn’t let them waffle. Wrote them sloppily on sticky notes.
- Told the kids, “If you gotta move, move. Just stay kinda near the table.” Lowered the expectations drastically.
How It Actually Went Down Tonight
Started simple. Dimmed the main light, turned on the warm lamp. Pointed at the water bowl: “That’s God’s grace today. Just there for us.” Started with my youngest kid’s pick – a super short, repetitive song. Sang it badly. Twice. Nobody cared. My teenager surprised everyone by actually reading a Bible verse they’d found online about thirst. Weirdly fitting.
Didn’t make anyone pray out loud long. Just said, “Drop your sticky note prayer by the bowl if you want, no talking needed.” Saw my older kid actually fold his note before putting it in. Huh.
My spouse got gutsy and shared a stupid mistake they made at work this week, feeling crummy about it. We didn’t “fix” it, just listened. Said “Thanks for trusting us.” Someone splashed the water bowl a bit by accident. Kid drew a picture on the spot of the bowl with stick figures around it. Ended with another song, shorter. Grandma (who lives with us) cried a little. Didn’t expect that.
Whole thing was sloppy. Someone kicked water on the rug. Songbooks were dropped. Guitar strings buzzed. But nobody checked the time. Felt… real. Raw. Like the connection finally clicked, not polished.
What I Learned Making This Mess
Forget the perfect program. Ditch the pressure for profound insights every time. Just create the space physically and emotionally, stick something simple and real (like that water bowl) right in the center, and get out of everyone’s way. Let the chaos happen. Trust that the Spirit works in the messiness. Focus on listening, not lecturing. Turns out, everyone just wants to be seen and heard where they’re at today. Simple water works better than fancy words. Who knew.
