I have a photograph of two Chinese girls who are part of the underground church. Their hair is in pigtails and their dimples are beaming. As I colored pictures with them, they taught me about attention to joy and ignorance of oppression.
Six Nigerian boys have their shirts off and they’re drenched, with white toothed grins on every face. They were playing soccer in a torrential storm and stopped long enough for me to snap their photo. They showed me how to turn an inconvenience into fun.
Then there’s my video of our missions team romping with Indian orphans. There are toddlers riding piggyback on adults, and others squealing in a game of tag. These kids were oblivious that they received a fraction of the affection of other children.
No teacher is more eloquent than the children of the world, who demonstrate living without guile. I wish I could get their lesson right. Instead, I’m perpetually fixing problems, so I can one day enjoy life. I spend years contriving a path toward happiness, and forego hours of childlike joy. When did I outgrow the wisdom of a child?
I need the kids to reteach me. When I watch a grade schooler play hopscotch, I assume she doesn’t have the maturity to worry about global warming. Instead, I need to realize what she doesn’t have is the cursed pride to pretend mankind has the answers for a dying planet. I need less of my problem-solving mania, and more of her patient humility.
Prayer: Mighty God, with childlike trust, I cast my cares into your mighty hand.