Worship from the Lobby
When mothering feels like missing out on the sacred—and yet, it's where the sacred meets you
Lately, going to church has looked like…
Walking into the sanctuary, greeting familiar faces, breathing in the reverent hush—and then promptly walking back out.
About 15 minutes in, my 10-month-old daughter is done. Wiggling, babbling, ready to crawl, squeal, explore. We tried the church childcare a couple of times, and while the volunteers were kind and helpful, she’s not quite ready to be left. And truthfully, I’m not quite ready either.
So out to the lobby we go. Again.
It’s easy to feel like I’m missing something.
The worship team is still playing in there.
The sermon is still being preached in there.
The “real” experience is happening in there.
And here I am… pacing the hallways, letting her crawl wherever she decides, and saying “hi” to the volunteers out front; all while trying to catch a single sentence from the livestream on the overhead speakers.
Here’s the thing: I’m a new Christian. I want to be in there.
I want to be standing among the faithful, singing aloud, eyes closed, hands raised.
I want to be scribbling sermon notes and flipping through Scripture with the others.
I want to feel like I’m finally “doing it right.”
But God keeps meeting me in the lobby.
And lately, I’ve been wondering if maybe… worship doesn’t have to look the traditional way right now.
Maybe my worship isn’t polished or uninterrupted.
Maybe it’s not quiet or reflective.
Maybe it doesn’t come with a chorus or a sermon outline.
Maybe it looks like showing up anyway.
Maybe it’s holding space for a squirmy baby while still trying to hold the Word in my heart.
Maybe it’s modeling presence, consistency, and grace—even if she won’t remember it, He will.
Maybe it’s whispering prayers over her as she crawls across the church carpet, blessing her hands, her feet, her future.
And just maybe, it’s discipling her not through perfect theology, but through proximity to God’s people.
Because here’s what I know: God is not just in the sanctuary.
He’s in the lobby. The hallway. The mothers’ room. He’s wherever His daughters show up, even when they feel like they’re missing it.
Motherhood changes how you worship. But it doesn’t disqualify you from it.
In fact, I think the rawness of this season—this stripped-down, sweaty, milk-covered form of “worship”—might just be the kind that pleases Him most.
Not because it’s tidy. But because it costs something.
And that cost is a kind of offering I never understood before becoming a mom.
So while I’m not in the pew taking notes, I am in the lobby taking steps.
Literal baby steps. And spiritual ones, too.
And I have to believe that matters.
Because Jesus didn’t rebuke the children when they disrupted the moment. He welcomed them.
“Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’”
—Matthew 19:14
And if He welcomed them, He welcomes the mothers who bring them—tired, late, distracted, and doubting their “impact.”
So perhaps this isn’t a spiritual setback. Maybe it’s just a new kind of altar. And right now, my offering is showing up, week after week, arms full and hands busy.
I’ll keep worshipping from the lobby.
For now.
And I’ll trust that He sees me just as clearly here.
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