He Called a Little Child

Precious little potential adults. Tiny packages of tightly compressed energy. Imagination factories. Manufacturers of fun. Laughter machines. The main reason we have balloons, Happy Meals, birthday parties and lawn sprinklers on hot summer days. They make mothers into mommies and fathers into daddies. They can turn a tear into a smile in twelve seconds flat. Or an immaculately clean house into a dump in less time than that. Truth tellers, they are, and chaos creators. Heart breakers. Memory makers. Time takers.

In the span of nine months they can accomplish what their grandparents couldn’t in two decades; turn twenty-something party animals into responsible, church-going, bill-paying adults. They turn spenders into savers. Leavers into stayers. Pagans into pray-ers. They leave fingerprints on our windows and our hearts. They are a gift of God. And of all the things He created, the Lord was most impressed with children.

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”  He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them.  And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:1 – 3).

Whenever I read that I inevitably think about my own childhood. I was, to be honest about it, an angel. Like the time we were moving from a house near the lake to one in the city. We had a duck. Donald. He had taken up with us so, when we moved, Donald moved, too. My mother pinned him up in a cage and placed him in the back of the station wagon with a bunch of boxes. She herded my brother, sister and me into the back seat and off we went.

Mom stopped by the post office and left us kids in the car with Donald. Now here’s the part about what a sweet, thoughtful child I was. I loved that duck. And love seeks to liberate those who are held down by the Man. Or, in this case, the Woman. Either way, she represented oppressive authority and even then I was acutely attuned to the biblical calls to justice and freedom. So I loosed the chains that bound him.

Apparently, Donald had been oppressed all his life and didn’t know what to do with his freedom. While Mom was dropping off a few things in the Post Office, Donald dropped off a few things in the station wagon. The oppressor was not impressed.

Nor was she all that happy with me that time I taught my younger brother all the cuss words I knew – both of them — so that he’d know what not to say. Or the time he and I, in a noble effort to disabuse her of pagan religious mythologies, told our younger sister that the Romans had crucified Santa Claus.

Okay, maybe those are bad examples. So what is it that makes children models of the Kingdom? When I was a kid we had a horse named Molly. One morning, I went out to the barn to lead her into the pasture. But when I rounded the corner of her stall, I saw not one horse, but two. Molly had birthed a colt. He looked so small and helpless. But in a matter of hours, he was up and running around. In a matter of weeks, he was eating regular horse feed. In just a few months, he was totally self-sufficient.

They say that baby snakes are capable of living on their own almost from the moment they are born. Sharks, the same way. Many animals birth their babies and turn them loose. Some lay the eggs and walk away. The babies never see their parents. Humans, on the other hand, take nine months to develop in the womb, then as long as 18 years (or these days, longer) to become independent. Human children, like the kind Jesus pulled into the circle of disciples, are totally dependent on others for a long, long time.

Of all the possible explanations for what makes children models of the Kingdom, I think that one — dependency — may be closest to His meaning. The disciples had been arguing about who among them was greatest. Jesus praised powerlessness. They were posturing about who was the most capable. Jesus celebrated incapability. They were bragging about competence. He complimented helplessness.

Unless we change and become dependent, the Kingdom will elude us. So here’s your homework. Every time you see a child this week – in the grocery, at the mall, down the hall – pay attention. Notice how dependent he is. Observe the way she lights up when her dad walks into the room. See how he tugs on his mother’s skirt for attention. Watch how they have to be fed, clothed and cleaned up after. The child is teaching you something Jesus wants you to learn. The child is teaching you how to grow up in your faith.