Graduate 123: Concerning Children

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, "Who then is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" And He called a child to Himself and set him before them, and said, "Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:1-4)

"And they were bringing children to Him so that He might touch them; and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus was this, He was indignant and said to them, "Permit the children to come to Me; do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it at all." And He took them in His arms and began blessing them, laying His hands upon them." (Mark 10:13-16)

My goal in this entry is not to exegete these passages. But what I would like to do is to alter, if only slightly, the way in which you see God and perceive your relationship to Him.

It was a Friday afternoon. I had just gotten out of class and my head was still swimming with the concepts and ideas that we had dealt with that day. As usual the discussion had been way over my head and, as usual, I was deeply troubled by that fact. It is very unnerving to be in an environment where a certain level of competency is expected, and yet to feel that you are always out of your depth. Thoughtful readers will point out that being stretched and challenged is a good thing--and they are right--but that doesn't keep the whole process from feeling quite hellish. In addition, I'm naturally disposed to worry and fret about my quality of performance and the level of my proficiency. I don't like even the feeling that I am not meeting expectations. (Whose expectations?--I don't know.)

So I left class that day with all these thoughts running through my mind--also aware that I had numerous assignments to deal with that weekend and papers to prepare for and other responsibilities to attend to, etc., etc., etc.

But for a little while, at least, I was going to try to set those things aside. I was going to hang out with one of my friends that afternoon. She was baby-sitting two sisters (two and four years old) from our church. We were going to take them to Carl's Jr., get them dinner, allow them to run around in the play area, and just spend some time together.

Young children have a way of absorbing one's attention. Constantly on the move, easily excited, and so full of energy, they constantly demand care and watching over. Needless to say, it took a little work to get them put-together and into the car so that we could take our trip, but eventually they were buckled into their seats and we were on our way. And in the midst of that car ride and the two-year-old chattering and me still thinking about all the work I've got to do and getting to Carl's Jr. for dinner, the four-year-old starts telling knock-knock jokes.

Quite randomly, for no particular reason, she starts telling knock-knock jokes.

Four-year-old: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Whose there?"

And they were bad knock-knock jokes. They didn't make sense. She's only four-years old so she hasn't got the knack of punning yet. She just spouts off random things and made-up words and laughs at every "punch-line." And I laugh too. Not because the jokes are funny, because they're not. They don't make sense. But she's so happy and she's so funny. So we go around and around, again and again.

Four-year-old: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Whose there?"

And it suddenly dawns on me: that's how it is with us and God.

We spend so much time and energy worrying about the things that we have to do and the responsibilities that we carry and the goals that we want to achieve and the people we have to please. Sometimes it's even worse with Christians who carry the extra burden of "ministry." They're working for God and trying to please Him and do what's right and meet His standard and make a difference.

And I'm sitting in a car on the way to Carl's Jr. with a friend and a bubbling two-year-old and a four-year-old who's telling jokes and, for a moment, I see things from a different perspective. I see things from God's perspective. I look down on my life, as if from above, and see how small it is. I see how my very best must always prove to be inadequate. I see how my greatest aspirations, when viewed against the backdrop of the cosmos and eternity, really don't amount to much. I see how, in truth, I'm really not that different from that four-year-old. All my abilities and talents and accomplishments and aspirations and goals and credentials and wisdom and experience and knowledge and cleverness amounts to about as much as a knock-knock joke. A bad knock-knock joke.

Depressing thought? No, because the wonder of this story lies in the realization that we have a heavenly Father who will always hear our knock-knock jokes.

Me: "Knock, knock."
God: "Who's there?"

The picture grows even sillier (and, in this case, that is a virtue) when we reflect on how stressed out we get over our knock-knock jokes. We want them to be perfect and we won't tell them to anyone until they're just right and we fully expect that everyone should appreciate them and if they don't then we are crushed and we cry out to God (or the universe at large), demanding that He acknowledge our significance.

And what does God here? "Knock, knock."

And though, in truth, our accomplishments are insignificant and our demand for acknowledgment absolutely absurd and the difference between us and God far greater than the difference between that four-year-old and myself with all my responsibilities and obligations and burdens and real-world know-how, God still condescends to answer: "Whose there?"

One of the biggest challenges for those of us who lead busy lives--and have places to be and things to do and a social calendar and business appointments and e-mails to answer and phone calls to make--is to make time for children. That's just not high on the priority list. Playing with four-year-olds doesn't impress the bosses; it doesn't help me get that promotion or secure that client; it certainly doesn't help me to finish that report or prepare that presentation; it doesn't help me to get ahead; it doesn't help me to advance. And, of course, those are the things that are really important. We wouldn't be stressing about them if they weren't important. Or would we?

Jesus always made time for the little children. While his disciples were focused on "doing ministry" and on the "work of the kingdom," Jesus made time for the little children. And our heavenly Father, who created and sustains the universe, who governs heaven and earth--He makes time for us.

Me: "Knock, knock."
God: "Who's there."

I hope that you will come to see how freeing that is. I don't have to worry about impressing anyone. God will not be pleased by my accomplishments because they are significant, because they're not. I won't be getting ahead because of anything that I do. But when He sees us filled with joy and delight, He will be pleased to aid us and walk the journey of life with us and lead us around and around, again and again.

So here's my suggestion: find a child to love. A young child who will demand all your attention and focus and who can't possibly give you anything "worthwhile" in return and will keep you from taking yourself to seriously. (This advice from a young man who is almost always taking everything to seriously.) And maybe you'll catch a glimpse of how joy-filled and free true life really is.

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God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.