Let the little children come!
The church is being called to reach children beyond the walls of Sunday services, argue Nick and Deborah Pearson
A quiet but urgent call is echoing through the church in Britain – a call not to innovate for novelty’s sake, but to rediscover something once central, now largely absent. It is the call to reach children beyond the walls of Sunday services, and it sits at the heart of a new booklet by Nick and Deborah Pearson, The Dream We Carry.
Framed as both reflection and rallying cry, the Pearsons’ work traces a dramatic shift in children’s ministry over the past half-century. Where once Sunday schools thrived as vibrant community hubs, today many churches find themselves primarily serving children already within Christian families. The implications are profound – not only for the church, but for the spiritual landscape of a generation.
“Eighty-three per cent of adults who are Christians today first made a commitment to Jesus between the ages of four and 14,” writes Tim Alford in his endorsement. This “staggering reality”, he argues, should command the church’s full attention. Yet, as the Pearsons document, the structures that once reached children at that critical stage have steadily declined.
The story begins in the late 1960s, when Sunday schools were woven into the fabric of British life. Nick Pearson recalls standing outside a community hall in 1969 as a teenage Sunday school teacher, part of a movement that drew in children from entirely non-churchgoing families.
These gatherings were often the first – and sometimes only – point of contact between the church and the wider community.
“Sunday schools thrived,” he reflects of those early days. Halls were filled, children sang, played, and absorbed biblical teaching in creative ways. For many families, sending children to Sunday school was simply part of the weekly rhythm. But by the late 1970s, that rhythm began to change.
Cultural shifts – from increased leisure options to changing patterns of family life – saw attendance wane. Sunday afternoons became less about community gatherings and more about private time. Gradually, churches adapted by moving children’s ministry into Sunday morning services.
The change, while practical, came at a cost.
“The former outreach that targeted children in the community began to fade,” Pearson observes. What replaced it was often inward-facing – valuable, but limited in reach. Over time, fewer and fewer unchurched children encountered the gospel through church initiatives.
Personal stories
The Pearsons’ booklet is rich with personal stories that illustrate what has been lost – and what is still possible.
Bev Marshall remembers attending a 1970s Sunday school outreach with friends from her estate. “They were kind, loving, reliable and consistent,” she recalls of the leaders. It was at a camp, aged eleven, that she gave her life to Jesus. Today, she serves as a children’s pastor, her life shaped by those early encounters.
Diahann Davis echoes the sentiment. Sunday school, she writes, was “safe, welcoming and warm” and “a second home”. Though her parents were not churchgoers, they were happy for her to attend – a common openness that churches today rarely encounter.
And for John Byrne, a simple invitation to a community hall in 1974 set the trajectory for a lifetime of ministry. “My Christian journey started at Sunday school,” he writes, urging readers not to underestimate “the importance of children’s ministry, since it can change the entire direction of someone’s life”.
These stories are not nostalgic indulgence – they are evidence. Evidence that consistent, relational, community-based outreach can shape lives for decades.
So what has replaced Sunday school?
In some areas, the answer is weekday children’s clubs – a model the Pearsons have invested in for years. From the Allsorts club in Chelmsley Wood to Friday night outreach in Tamworth, these initiatives seek to recreate what was lost: accessible, engaging spaces for children with no church background.
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