Every night—Eh-Vah-Ree night—before bed, my children like to engage the poor schmuck who does their bedtime routine in what we call “Theology 101.” Before we go any further, gentle reader, let’s define some terminology. First, by “poor schmuck,” I mean it’s either me or my husband. We dearly love our children, we just also really like listening to absolute silence and the bliss of no one touching us. I mean, we like other things too, but these two items rank pretty high up there in our mid-30s.

If you google the words “Christians” and “boycott” together, you quickly find that the internet is a fairly unkind place (if you didn’t know that already). Most links will lead you to criticism over Christianity’s reputation with boycotting. Even within our own tribe, other believers question the validity of boycotts, often calling them a waste of time or an arrogant display of self-righteousness. And conversely, scattered among these articles are pleas from high profile Christians strongly suggesting that your reputation as a believer is dependent upon you immediately removing your support from certain well-known companies that have publicly abandoned biblical morality.

For some, attending church on Sundays is something they’ve done their entire lives, while for others, it is a new rhythm that they are still adjusting to. Whichever camp you may fall into, you may, at some point, have asked the question, Why do we do things this way?

I remember hearing about Sojourn’s first services, which took place 20 years ago this month. I was attending a small house church with my wife and three other couples, and the stories told to us by our pastor (a young, suburban preacher who is still one of my best friends) made it sound like a Christian version of The Rocky Horror Picture Show—lights turned off, countless candles, weird music, people dressed mostly in black, tattoos, piercings and Bible readings, oh my! If you’d have asked me of my impression of Sojourn in those days, before I’d attended a service, I’d have given a one-word appraisal: flaky.

Some of my very first memories of church are sitting in Ms. Margie’s Sunday school class in a little, wooden chair, eating butter cookies and listening to a Bible story. I can still remember the Noah’s Ark nursery decor and what the hallway looked like when I walked down it to get a drink of water. I grew up in your typical Southern Baptist Church in Alabama. My mom was the VBS director and taught classes in the youth group. I can look back now and treasure my time spent in the church. It didn’t come without its fair share of hard. Things that I am now having to undo or unlearn in my own mind. But I can say it did teach me many positive and fruitful treasures to keep in my pocket. One of those being that investing in your church's children’s ministry is some of the most important work you will ever do, and it is never a waste of time. I know it isn’t flashy, it isn’t always seen, it requires sacrifice...but it is important.