I attended the Christmas Cantata at First Baptist Church. The choir did a beautiful job, as always. During the singing, memories from growing up at that church flooded my mind. Some of my best childhood fun happened within the walls of First Baptist.

There’s something special about being a church kid. My parents were heavily involved and if the doors were open, our family was there. In early elementary school, my parents sang in a gospel group. While they practiced, my brother and I played in the sanctuary, sliding on the tile floor under all the pews. Sometimes we snuck upstairs to the balcony area—we thought we were big stuff— and other times to the baptistry. There wasn’t an unlocked room we didn’t explore.

Once we entered middle school, since my parents sang in the choir, so did we. I learned how to read music and sing parts, made lifetime friendships, and came to appreciate the older hymns as a result. My best friend was the choir director’s daughter, so if my mom or dad ever stayed late to practice a solo or ensemble piece, we snuck into the old sanctuary and snooped around. Old churches in the daytime are beautiful, but in the dark, they are as scary as an abandoned shack.

As I moved on to high school, our family joined the handbell choir and the church orchestra. I played French horn, my brother, the trombone, and my mom, the clarinet. My brother and I also turned pages for Mrs. Juanita Ragans, our church pianist, and stayed after rehearsals to practice with her. I loved listening to her play. She wasn’t just a pianist, her soul poured from her fingers onto those keys like water from a jar. Truly gifted.

We attended revivals, special services, regular gatherings, committee meetings, trivia nights, socials, caroling, and anything else happening at the church. We rarely missed a Sunday, and always attended Sunday school. Church was a foundational piece of my life as a kid.

I wouldn’t trade being a church kid. God became the foundation I sought to build my life on. Did I stray? Of course, who doesn’t? Did I have to search and seek to make my faith my own? Of course, who doesn’t? But being a church kid pointed me in the right direction.

It also showed me the importance of chosen family. I grew up in the laps of older folks who I considered extra relatives. My parents and their friends were there to help each other at a moment’s notice. Church wasn’t a social event or a have-to every week, it was a place where we built lasting relationships and developed our faith.

So, guess what? Now my kids are church kids too. They have free reign of the church every Sunday and Wednesday, and I’m sure they know all the great hiding spots. Each week they attend youth and kids group. They run through the halls and get and give hugs from people much older than them. We have chosen family, people I know I can depend on and call on at any moment. But most of all, we get to do life together and encourage one another as we seek to follow God a little closer.

Are you involved in a church? If you aren’t, please do it. Make your kids church kids. Even if they fuss every week about having to wear a dress like I did. Or they dislike getting up early on the weekend. Or whatever other excuse they can come up with.

If we don’t teach them, the world will. And it’s getting a bit scary out there. Get your kids in church. Give them a solid foundation and built-in extra family. You and your kids will both be better for it.