Childlike Faith

I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Matt 18:3

I pedaled past a line of preschoolers out for a nature walk. They lit up at the site of a funny man on a bicycle. One little guy leaned out, beamed a gap-toothed smile, and chirped, “Hello there!” His dimpled hand polished off the salutation with a vigorous wave. It was over before my sluggish brain pushed a response down to my mouth—I only chuckled as I rolled away. A bubble of God’s love had swelled out of that little life and burst on mine. It was a dose of joy that lasted well into my day, reminding me there is no barrier between God’s voice and a child’s heart.

I want a faith like that tike. I want to effervesce when the Spirit moves me, free of stalling doubts. Why must I always hold back to ask if God is really prompting me, if others will receive it, if I can take 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? What can I hope to accomplish by my prudish reservation? Who does not need a smile and a happy word? Why is the slim possibility of rejection more important to me than broadcasting goodwill? The Lord will never use me to evangelize the nations until I can love like a four-year-old.

Perhaps I could elect senility before it is compelled by age. I could regress to a less jaded worldview. I could be silly, laugh at my self-important big ideas, and concern myself with tickling others. After all, who is mature if it is not the soul free of worry? Regression would allow me to swap out my constipated pride for some healthy generosity. Instead of impressing others with decorum, I would bring them joy. When I can bubble spontaneous love, I will know I am plugged into God.

Prayer: Father, make me childlike again.