The Art of Being a Child

Last Sunday I gave a sermon on Mark 10, and a major idea from that text is our need to be small. The rich young man asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. The disciples ask how to be great in the kingdom. Jesus' response to both is a call for smallness. Give all that you have, serve, and become a slave to all. Jesus provides us a picture of that through himself as he lives a life of service and of giving; he offers the ultimate picture of this in his death.

One aspect of preparing for a sermon like this is to become familiar with the context of the passage and understanding how the passage fits with the rest of the book. What I noticed in this work is Jesus' call to become child-like. Right before the passage I preached on, Jesus has said that you will not enter the kingdom of God unless you have the heart of a child.

This struck me as exceedingly appropriate walking into the narrative of the rich young man's and the disciples' question. They want to prove their worth by doing. They want to earn their position. But this isn't what children do. Nor is this what parents want them to do. When I brought my two daughters home from the hospital, I didn't immediately demand that they start working to earn my love. No - all I wanted from them was to lie there helplessly in my arms, protected, warm, and restful.

So what it the art of being a child? I think I've got some experience here.

My father is very handy. I am not. So I invite him over when there’s a project to do. And in the midst of so many of the projects, as I've stood there, I've felt like such a little boy. Helpless, dependent, and lost, I am so, so small. So, so weak. And so, so grateful. Because it is there, in my weakness, that I, an aspiring adult male look up to my father and say, I need you. I just can’t do this. And he is there. In every corner of my house, I can look around and see little signs that say, “Your father loves you this much.”

There are days when I am a son who needs his mother. Facing challenging circumstances, dilemmas, opposition, pain, or fear, there are days I just want to sit down and talk to my mom. I want to be in her presence and talk, admitting my weakness and trepidation to one of the few people I am willing to admit it to, and rest in that. In those moments I am so small, resting in a mother’s love.

The art of being a child requires a full understanding that you cannot do it alone. It demands the vulnerability of saying "I need you." And it offers the joy of being cared for, of being safe, of being wrapped in the blanket of understanding that you are loved in an incomprehensible way.

Jesus is calling us to this smallness. Calling us to admit this dependence, admit our helplessness, admit that the law and our efforts will get us nowhere, admit that for us, it is impossible. Our abilities, our position, and our money will do nothing for us. Christ is the only thing that will.

It's something only a child would understand.