But Jesus called for the children, saying, “Let the little children come to me and do not try to stop them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:16-17)
I pedaled past a line of preschoolers out for a nature walk. They lit up at the sight of a funny man on a bicycle. One little guy leaned out of the line, beamed a smile, and chirped, “Hello there.” His dimpled hand polished off the salutation with a vigorous wave.
It was over before my sluggish brain could push a response past my mouth. A bubble of God’s love had swelled out of that young life and burst onto me. It was a reminder that there is no barrier between God’s heart and a child’s voice.
I want a faith like that tyke. I want to effervesce when the Spirit moves me, and live free from stalling doubts. Why do I hold back to assess the risk? Then the moment is lost.
“Hello there.” “Are you happy like I am?” “Isn’t God’s love great?” Why don’t I spread joy around like a child? Everyone needs a smile and a cheerful word. What can I hope to accomplish by my prudish reservation? The Lord can’t use me to evangelize the nations until I can love like a four-year-old.
Perhaps I could elect senility before it’s compelled by age. I could regress to a less jaded worldview. I’d be silly, laugh at my self-important ideas, and go on the lookout for chances to tickle people. After all, who’s mature if it’s not the soul free from worry? Regression would allow me to move past my constipated pride and sprinkle joy on others.
If I bubbled spontaneous love like that happy preschooler, then I’d know, without a doubt, that I was plugged into God.
Prayer: Father, make me childlike again.