Godly Play in the Parking Lot

A Reflection on the Ark and the Tent
By Lesley Stahl

If I’m being honest, the story of The Ark & the Tent used to be one of my least-favorite Godly Play stories. I just didn’t get it. I could appreciate the epic narrative of The Great Family, or the metaphors in the Parables, but I didn’t really care about the ancient building structures and tools for worship. Maybe it’s because we’re not a liturgical church, or maybe I just wasn’t ready to enter into this particular story – not yet, anyway. Not until this summer.

This past year, we have tried presenting the stories of God and God’s people to our community in a variety of ways. We’ve recorded videos, done Zoom sessions, and met a few times at the church before the adults began having services. This summer, the adults moved inside, but since we don’t yet feel comfortable with kids indoors, we are meeting in the parking lot.

Let me tell you … the parking lot is a dangerous place. 

People don’t hang out in the parking lot unless they have to.

There are no walls or doors, so there is no clear entry, and little kids can get lost wandering around. Cars and trucks drive nearby, sometimes ignoring our boundaries. Strangers walk through, not understanding. People don’t hang out in the parking lot unless they have to. 

During the day, the sun beats down, absorbing into the asphalt, and radiating back up. The fumes from the factory next door combine with the engines from the freeway overhead to boggle our senses. People don’t hang out in the parking lot unless they have to.

God gave us – his people – stories; we love the stories because they help guide us and help us feel God’s presence. We put the stories of God on shelves, and then put wheels on the shelves so we could take them wherever we go.

But we needed a way to get ready to come close and enter into the stories, especially in the parking lot. We laid down a rug to tell the story, and carpet squares to sit on. But that was not enough.

We put up tents to cover us from the sun, and hand sanitizer to clean ourselves. We put out art supplies and building toys, books and journals. 

We moved the donuts farther away, so they wouldn’t be so tempting. We added a computer, a TV, and a power source so we could have worship music. But that was still not enough.

The River Church Community - San Jose, CA

In the front, we placed a check-in table and all around the perimeter we placed bright orange cones to mark the whole, special area. We added more shelves, and more tents, and more rugs, so even more children of God could come hear the stories. 

This was not all. The volunteers wore special name tags so we would know they were leaders, and everyone wore masks to protect themselves and others.

And every Sunday morning, when the set up is nearly finished, I bless the space. I grab the bag of cones and walk the perimeter with a breath prayer: 

… when I can’t (reach in the bag), God, you can (put down a cone)

… or sometimes: not my will (reach in the bag), but yours be done (put down a cone) 

… or perhaps: your kingdom come, your will be done (reach in the bag), on earth as it is in heaven (put down a cone).

I didn’t understand the Ark & the Tent until now. I didn’t understand the power of place, the significance of ritual. I didn’t know why we should care about ancient furniture.

I see now, and I am so grateful that God gave me this story; that he invited me back over and over until I was ready to enter it. That when I doubted goodness in the world, when I couldn’t talk to God, when I could only set out cones and breathe, I could hear this story echoing in my heart, reminding me that God’s stories don’t simply sit on a shelf, even a shelf with wheels … they continue to live, and we are the ones who get to live into them.

Lesley Stahl is the Children's Ministry Director at The River Church Community in San Jose, CA, an MDiv student at North Park Theological Seminary, and a mom of two kids who love to wonder about God!