NeuroDivine

A NeuroDivine Reflection on Children in Church

There’s a moment in the Gospels that never fails to catch my breath. The disciples, ever eager to tidy the scene, try to shoo away the children. Perhaps they feared sticky fingers on scrolls, or the noise of little feet interrupting the sermon. But Jesus—our Lord of holy interruptions—rebukes them. “Let the children come to me,” he says, “do not hinder them.”

He doesn’t say, “Let the quiet children come.”
He doesn’t say, “Let the neurotypical children come.”
He doesn’t say, “Let the children come once they’ve learned to sit still and whisper.”

He says, “Let them come.”

In our churches today, we often speak of welcoming families, yet we build sanctuaries that whisper “be still,” “don’t fidget,” “don’t run.” We design liturgies that presume miniature adults, not children in all their glorious, noisy, sensory-divergent wonder. We hush the giggle, the stomp, the flap, the question. And in doing so, we risk silencing the Spirit that speaks through them.

Children are not distractions from worship. They are worshippers.
They are not future members. They are present grace.
They are not problems to manage. They are prophets in sneakers.

To be NeuroDivine is to honour the image of God in every neurological wiring, every sensory seeking, every burst of joy or meltdown of overwhelm. It is to believe that the Body of Christ includes bodies that wiggle, stim, and dance down the aisle. It is to trust that the Spirit moves through the child who cannot sit still, just as surely as through the one who folds hands in prayer.

So let the children come.
Let them come with crayons and questions.
Let them come with noise-cancelling headphones and comfort toys.
Let them come with joy and grief and everything in between.

And let us come alongside them—not to tame, but to learn.
Not to hush, but to listen.
Not to mould, but to marvel.

For in the kingdom of God, the last are first, the small are mighty, and the ones we’re tempted to shoo away are often the ones who show us the way.