One Sunday at the Barnsville Baptist Church
Kristin's Story
This is a fictional story based on realities that happen in many churches.
Kristin sat in the back row of the Barnsville Baptist Church. Her head was spinning. Her heart was heavy. Most of the people noticed when she entered the sanctuary doors exceptionally late. None of them realized that it was a miracle she was even there. She was desperate. Her toddler was restless. This was his first church service too.
“I never should have trusted him,” she thought to herself amidst the inquiring eyes and the obvious whispers of the church goers. “What am I going to do now?”
The musicians stopped playing. Everything went quiet as the pastor climbed the steps to the stage. Of all the possible moments, this would be the one in which her son dropped a toy. And of all the possible ways it could fall, it of course hit the metal leg of the chair he was sitting on. The whole sanctuary probably heard it. In fact, she knew they did because of the sudden stern looks she received from multiple angles. “I don’t think they want me here. This is so embarrassing.” She hoped that trying out this church thing would help her somehow. Now she felt more anxious than ever.
It wasn’t long until one of the ladies bustled up to her, leaned in, and informed her that the church had a children’s program. “I can walk him back there for you,” she offered. Kristin felt awkward, but tried to hide it while politely turning down the offer. There was no way she was going to let her son out of her sight. Not after what they had been through. He’s all she has right now. She couldn’t help but notice how annoyed the lady looked. “She must of been trying to get him out of the sanctuary. Is he a burden for them?”
A few minutes later, as the pastor was preaching, Kristin’s son started whimpering. In his restlessness, he had bumped his head on the chair in front of him. Not hard. Just enough to startle him and make him cry. The pastor must have heard it because he started losing focus and peering back toward the noise. It was obvious he was trying to keep a calm demeanor, but his eyes and body language told the story. He was annoyed. She saw the people shaking their heads. She felt the stares. Her anxiety became worse. She was tensing up.
As all toddlers do, the boy began to sense his mother’s tension. As a result, he became more anxious too. As his restlessness increased, the disapproval of the people in the sanctuary became more obvious. She began to feel panicked. “What do I do? Do I stay and endure this? Do I leave and possibly make a bigger spectacle? Everyone will be glad if I get out of here.”
The pastor was just starting his second point as Kristin carefully shifted out into the aisle. As she carried her son out of the sanctuary doors, she thought to herself, “I still don’t know where to go, but I don’t think I can go here.”
After Kristin left, the people who were annoyed now felt relief. The pastor noticed she had left, but was happy to be able to finish his sermon uninterrupted. The church strategized on how to better persuade parents to bring their children to the nursery and children’s church. Meanwhile, Kristin never stepped foot through the doors of a church again.
That was twenty years ago. No one knows what happened to Kristin or where she is now, but one thing is obvious to everyone in the area. If you drive by the Barnsville Baptist Church, you will notice they have changed the sign. It use to say, “All are welcome.” Now, standing like a judgment in front of the old, abandoned building it simply says, “For Sale.”