Blood (Juice) Shed

My boy asked to join me in service. I agreed. Hand in hand we entered the sanctuary. He clapped his way through worship. Deciphering words on the big screen as he sang along. He would look up at me with a smile of contentment. He admired the guitar player and said,"I want to play like that someday." I would like that too.
The pastor spoke on worship. It was such a good powerful message. Worship is not an experience for a few moments on Sunday morning. Worship could and should happen in the ordinary. Worship in all things. Take a moment to thank God and praise him. For who He is. For what He has created. What we have been blessed with. My son sat there listening respectfully. His face reflecting moments of Ah ha! I prayed his heart was understanding.
Pastor Alan spoke about a time in his youth when he would sit down at the piano and play hymns. How he loved the music. He was good at it. It became a passion. Hours upon hours of sitting there playing. Before long the old hymns became songs of praise as he sang them out to God. Written notes on the page became an impromptu song from his heart; a song to his God. His faith grew, God met him there in those moments. The boy soaked in every word. He loves music. I strongly believe God will use him with music in the future. His little strums each day continue to grow. They sound better and better with each passing day. He has yet to learn chords. Most of what he does is an impromptu song from within him. Something about this innocence, I love it. I can not wait to see what God will do in and through him as he grows in this passion.
As the service was ending it was time for communion. He took a cracker and a juice. He bowed his head. I whispered to him that he could thank God for all he has done for him. A minute later I whispered he could ask Him to forgive him for his sins. He kept his head down. Just as everyone had been served we were about to partake, he dropped his cup of juice. A puddle on the floor. We took the bread and ate it.I handed him my cup and he drank all but a tad bit . Then handed it to me so I would still have some. The lady next to us reached into her bag and produced a couple baby wipes. I went to work soaking up the crimson liquid. 'Blood shed and poured out for many.' My boy whispered to me, "What about what's on me? I'm soaked." I had not even noticed. Sure enough one of his legs was pretty wet. I dabbed the stain. Then whispered in his ear. "Christ blood poured out for the forgiveness of sin, looks like it was poured out. Don't worry about it." He smiled up at me. Somehow I think he gets it. And that is a reason to worship.