Extreme VBS? Mustard Seed Musings

Mountaintop Extravaganza. Under the Sea. Wild Safari.

 Extreme this. Extreme that.

Yes, it’s Vacation Bible School (VBS) Season. Tis’ the season to gear up for the hustle and bustle of crafts, activities, music and stories. For some churches, the week can be a huge production with “out of this world” themes. Perhaps you’ve noticed the invitation to go on safaris, climb mountains or my personal “favorite” theme that caught my eye a few years back: “Pandamania” which, of course, is a play on pandemonium. Even with a cute and cuddly panda, do we really want to advertise chaos, bedlam, and mayhem?

Does faith equal escape?  Is the goal of passing on the faith to our kids about being anywhere but here? Or is it about having spiritual moments now, in the ordinary, often less-than-adventurous day to day?

I spent five evenings at our church’s VBS this past week. Our theme, Growing in Christ reflected the readings for the upcoming Sunday, especially the parable of the mustard seed (thereby integrating children into the worship life of the church).  As I reflect upon our week together, I am struck by how unconventional it was in its conventionality. We ate a simple meal, painted, planted flowers, sang and played instruments and listened to stories. We closed each evening with worship, the children hearing one of Sunday’s scriptures and offering their “Thank yous” and “Helps” to God. We prayed the Lord’s Prayer. We were sent forth with a sung and danced, “Go now in peace, my friends.”

It dawned on me halfway into the week that our time wasn’t just based on the parable of the mustard seed; we were enacting the parable. Were we big? No. Did we have lots of glitter and gimmicks? No. But what we did have was intentional, quality time with a group of children and adults on their faith journeys together. It was more of the “Mr. Rogers” version of VBS: doing ordinary things with the awareness that God was present in each and every person.

It’s not popular, of course, to be the little playground instead of the glitzy theme park. It seems our culture is obsessed with extreme everything. Yet this week convinced me once again that we have so much to gain in the small things: reading a story to a child, singing a song, planting a flower. These were moments not of escape but of immersion in the earth and connection with one another. As I hear

my own daughter singing, “The trees of the field shall clap their hands,” I realize that even something as seemingly everyday and ordinary as a tree leads to moments of rejoicing.