Like a Child

Yesterday was my turn to spend time with my two year old daughter, Ella. My wife, who is just now starting to feel better after having had bronchitis for two weeks, took off for the day to indulge in her favourite hobby, scrapbooking. And deservedly so. As I said, she has been sick for two weeks and is still not feeling one hundred per cent. She needed some time away. Therefore, it was daddy and daughter day, something that probably doesn't happen often enough.

Earlier in the week we had finally gotten some snow and icy temperatures and so my wife, in her motherly wisdom, purchased one of those round saucer slides. We had already taken Ella out once--our next door neighbors have a slightly sloped hill at the side of their house closest to ours, and it's just perfect for a little two year old! Ella, of course, loved it! We would take turns sliding down this little hill with her, and, inevitably, when we reached the bottom Ella would say enthusiastically, "More!"

So yesterday, with the whole day ahead for Ella and I, we took part of the day and went sliding down this same little slope of a hill much to her delight. We would do the count--"One, two, three!"--and off we went! We'd scoot down the hill, sliding on snow that had been smoothed to an icy sheen, and when we reached the bottom we were laughing and giggling. We did this for three-quarters of an hour! That is, until my legs and bottom were sufficiently wet and cold. Ella had snow-pants on, but I did not! Besides, we needed to take a break for lunch. Needless to say, we had a fantastic time. And I felt very blessed to have had the opportunity for a whole day with my little girl.

The funny thing, when I was thinking about it, was that this was a Saturday. Now as a pastor, Saturday time is premium time, time for finishing up the sermon, getting things for Sunday school ready, etc. Saturday is often a busy day. But thankfully I had roughly 95% of my sermon completed. Only the typing remained. So when I was with Ella, I wasn't feeling distracted by a sermon that was waiting for me to work on. I was able to focus entirely on her. I was simply able to enjoy her. That made me think.

It made me think that even if I had had a lot more work to go on my sermon that I still would have had to focus on Ella. There would have been no other option. I mean, her mother was taking a needed day off. I was in charge. Even if I had had only one point of a three point sermon ready, my responsibility was still to Ella. It still would have been important to pay attention to her since while being with her I certainly couldn't work on my sermon (I've tried this before and it just doesn't work!). Not only that, but if I had tried to work on my sermon, not only would that attempt have been unsuccessful but I also would have lost a golden opportunity to enjoy my daughter--and I use that word enjoy intentionally.

One of the greatest things about having that time with Ella was hearing her laugh, and being able to take joy in her joy--being able to laugh with her as she was having fun slide down that hill. It made me think of the inestimable value of being present to my daughter and not only being present with her. Yesterday, in those moments we shared, including the laughter that found us cascading down a slope of newly fallen snow, I showed Ella more about God's fatherly love and care than if I had just plunked her down on the floor with her toys and tried to do something conceivably more pious, like finishing my sermon. It is from parents that children learn about the love of God, and they learn this most powerfully through relational moments. By sharing in her laughter and joy, I increased her laughter and her joy and opened her up to the joy God takes in us.

And so the analogy is an obvious one, isn't it? Doesn't it make sense that God must take joy in us when we ourselves are joyful, when we find ourselves rolling over in laughter so hard and intense tears are streaming down our faces? At least that's what I was wondering about after my day with Ella. Mike Mason, in his book The Mystery of Children: What Our Kids Teach Us About Childlike Faith, says that one of the first laws of parenting is this: "Those who refuse to become childlike are doomed to be childish." And certainly if I had had more work on my sermon to complete, I could have sulked that I had to look after Ella and I could have worried about how I was going to get my work done. In other words, I could have acted childishly. But what would have been the point of that, really? What more would have gotten done? Having to spend that day with her--thereby allowing myself to be childlike--taught me something crucial about how it is that we receive Christ, how it is that we are to enter the kingdom as a child.

We often see children as a nuisance. They seem to get in our way. They disrupt our schedules and routines. Worst of all, they make a mess. Toys are scattered everywhere. You can always count on a child (especially once they become mobile and develop lots of dexterity!) to get into places and things that they shouldn't. And they force us, really force us, to put our own concerns, priorities, and needs aside to pay attention to them. When a child is in the room, they are, more often than not, the center of attention, the whirlwind of activity. And usually if we do not respect them, treat them as genuine persons, and give them their due, they behave even worse. So we're better off seeing them in a better light.

Jesus, pointing out this wrong attitude in his disciples, chided them for preventing some children from approaching him. He says, basically, "Hey, you've got it all wrong. These are the sort of people to whom the kingdom properly belongs. You better learn from them." Just as I was able to take joy from Ella's laughter and find myself caught up in it, I can see God doing likewise with each of us. Certainly Jesus did. He blessed the children. And no doubt he took joy in them; joy is a fruit of Spirit, after all, something Jesus had an endless supply of! I want to suggest, also, that we are the children of that story--he wants us to come to him, and he wants us to come to him as trusting, joyful children who have a Father in heaven who loves them. He wants us to know that having such a disposition toward God, through Jesus, is exactly what it means to be in the kingdom of heaven.

So it's ok, then, to enjoy my daughter's joy and laughter, to take that time out and pay attention to her, and to be attentive to her presence. In doing so she learns about God in ways that I could never teach her through a family devotion, sermon, or Bible study (as important as these may be!). In fact, it's imperative that I do this, for in doing so not only am I teaching her about God's love for her but she is also teaching me likewise.