A few weeks ago I had an experience that has stuck with me. I’m not entirely sure why, but it moved me in a way nothing like this had ever done before. I thought about it all day and the Spirit of the moment kept reoccurring throughout the week.
I’ve recently had a baby, and with that new baby turmoil on top of peak flu season, I decided to keep my oldest home from Mom’s Day Out. This week he started going back to school and with that he also moved up a class because we potty trained in the month or so he was home. I was very anxious and super worried over him moving to an older class. Would he nap for them? Would new baby sister on top of school changing for him send him over the edge? He is my first baby after all. I’m allowed to be worried, right? Would I be able to handle getting us all out the door on school days? Would he be okay with new teachers and new kids? Would he transition well in the afternoons after school? Would he be able to communicate his needs? To say I was concerned about his return to school would be an understatement.
So, I dropped him off at his new classroom.
He didn’t bat an eye. He went straight to the toy fire truck on the shelf, gave me a goodbye kiss when I pestered him to, and didn’t think twice about anything being different. This shocked me and relieved me. So I went out the door.
When I left, I ran into his old teacher. I showed her the new baby that was hidden in the car seat, we chatted for a minute, and before I left she asked me the question, “Can I pray with you?”.
“Of course”, I said, and she wrapped me in a hug and began to pray.
We don’t attend the same church. We aren’t the same denomination. I honestly am not sure what she believes and I’m sure she doesn’t know what I believe. My son isn’t of the faith of the preschool he attends, but I know he learns of Jesus there and I feel confident he is learning good things. I also don’t attend the same church as my closest friends and most of my family members. We all have different takes on our faith in Jesus Christ.
All of that to say this: the denomination doesn’t matter.
My son’s sweet teacher stood there with me and prayed for my son, our new baby girl, my husband, and me. She articulated so well the same worries and fears I have been praying since before the new baby arrived. We hadn’t discussed any of these matters. We hardly know each other. So purely she prayed for all the anxieties I had been having but never spoke aloud to anyone. She listed them off one by one and I was so taken aback I barely remembered to say “Amen”.
Denomination doesn’t matter. Christ is what unites us. At the end of the day, it is our faith in Jesus Christ that can, and will, hold us all together if we allow it. It doesn’t matter where you attend church. It doesn’t matter if you disagree on certain doctrine, philosophies, preachers, or ideas. Christ knows our pure intents and heart. I have never been more sure of that than now. After that spiritual experience in the classroom of a preschool with a woman I barely know, I will never doubt that Heaven hears our prayers. Then people here on Earth often answer them. Even people we barely know.
Let’s not get so caught up in the nitty-gritty details of the denominations of Christianity that we forget we are all searching after the same thing – a relationship with Jesus.