Invitation: Come as a child

But Jesus befriends and elevates children

Matthew 18:1-5 The disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?” Jesus called a little child to him and put the child among them. Then he said, “Unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven. So anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven. And anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf is welcoming me.”

Matthew 19:13-15 One day some parents brought their children to Jesus so he could lay his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples scolded the parents for bothering him. But Jesus said, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.” And he placed his hands on their heads and blessed them before he left.

Where Jesus is King, children are valued, welcomed, and blessed.

And healed.

When you and I come to him as children, God can heal what was harmed and provide what was missing when we were small. Like the little ones Jesus welcomed when he lived on earth, we too can receive the blessing of his comfort and care.

It’s OK to be little.

It’s OK to not know or to not know how to do something.

It’s OK to celebrate growing and learning.

Last weekend the Pittsburgh part of our family spent a lovely time together in eastern Pennsylvania, delighting in the waterfall hike at Ricketts Glen State Park. Hiking a steep and rugged 3.2-mile loop, we enjoyed eighteen waterfalls, from 11 feet to 94 feet high! No image can do them justice. Our little ones, at 6 and 3, are enthusiastic hikers! The song in Portuguese, Aguas Purificadoras by Ana Paula Valadão (start at 50 seconds), kept running through my head. Click here for English (start at 1 minute).

The Airbnb where we stayed had a ping-pong table. On Friday evening after we arrived, my six-year-old granddaughter didn’t succeed in hitting the ball so it would land on the other side of the table. She spent much of Saturday afternoon, evening, and Sunday begging any adult available to practice with her. By the time we left at 4:00 on Sunday, she could volley 12-15 times without missing!

Meanwhile, her three-year-old sister, who could barely see above the table, contented herself with hitting (or more often, throwing) a ping-pong ball all over the house. “I’m too little for that,” she told me, pointing to her sister, thrilled at her success. “But when I’m six, I’ll do it too.”

In the Kingdom of Heaven, embraced by the King, we will always be small.

In the Kingdom of Heaven, we will always be learning and growing.

In the Kingdom of Heaven, it’s OK to be little.

Jesus prayed this prayer: “O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, thank you for hiding these things from those who think themselves wise and clever, and for revealing them to the childlike (Mt 11:25).

Ashy or solid?

But the Spirit guides us

Psalm 143:10 Teach me to do your will, for you are my God. May your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing.

Sometimes life feels so unpredictable walking forward feels “ashy.”

I internalized that image from an experience I had when I was fourteen. I attended a youth retreat a few hours from my home in Guatemala, designed for MKs (missionary kids) for whom such an experience was rare. What a privilege! I have never forgotten the fun of spending time with other teens, nor the impact of our speaker Ron Blue’s teaching about Romans 12:1-2: Don’t conform to the world …

During the retreat we got to hike a mountain next to Pacaya, an active volcano. It was hard! A recent eruption had buried the trails in several feet of still-warm ash. Have you ever tried to walk through ash? Imagine trying to climb a hill when with every step you try to take you slide backwards or sideways. Just keeping your balance, or getting to your feet again after you fall, feels like the toughest thing you’ve ever tackled. And the ash gets into your clothes, into your mouth and eyes, covers your skin … A “slippery slope” for sure.

Pacaya Volcano: Shutterstock yggdrasill

We didn’t manage to hike far. We finally got around to the side of the mountain not facing Pacaya, where we could sit, gulp water, and gasp over the majesty of a circle of volcanoes, a crystalline blue lake nestled in the valley between them. As we took in the view, our speaker challenged us to give our lives to the Creator of all this beauty, a trustworthy guide.

Our leaders decided we should walk downhill on that side of the mountain, to avoid most of the ash. What a delight and relief to find firm footing! We no longer took it for granted.

All this was still vivid in my mind when a short time later I moved to the U.S. to live with a family I didn’t know in a foreign world where almost nothing was as I expected.

Occasionally another teen would give me hints about how to dress, how to behave, how to talk, how to relate, guiding me to a firmer path through the strange adolescent milieu of an American high school. They probably had little idea how important I found their willingness to share their knowledge. Despite Romans 12:2, there were many ways I needed to conform to this world! Sorting all that out sometimes felt like walking through ash.

Our sibling group is walking through some tough uncharted “ashy” terrain related to health and aging. It’s good to know that we can trust the Holy Spirit to guide us on solid ground.

Gentle and quiet

But God’s Spirit loves beauty

Job 26:13-14 God’s Spirit made the heavens beautiful, and his power pierced the gliding serpent. These are just the beginning of all that he does, merely a whisper of his power.

Isaiah 61:3 To all who mourn in Israel, the Spirit of the Sovereign Lord will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.

1 Peter 1:2, 3:4 God the Father knew you and chose you long ago, and his Spirit has made you holy. … Clothe yourselves with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.

I love hiking! Nothing soothes my soul more than unhurried time in the gentle beauty of woods. Birdsong and the music of a brook, the exquisite beauty of tiny wildflowers, fleeting glimpses of deer and other woodland animals, shade and sun and breeze combine in beauty that is precious to me.

Catoctin Mountain Park, Steve Walters

I enjoyed all this last week during our family reunion, on a trail in the Catoctin Mountain Park in the lovely company of a beloved niece and nephew. They were patient with me when I needed to breathe a bit on the ascent, and the rich conversation we shared has given me food for thought ever since.

God created us to love beauty. His Spirit creates and sustains beauty both surrounding us and within us, in harmony with his own nature.

I hope that today you and I will find space to soak in the loveliness of the world and people around you. And find joy in the work of the Spirit in our own hearts.

Fairest Lord Jesus (“Beautiful Savior”) unknown writer, 1662, Stacey Sings Hymns.

A walk in the woods

But God calls us to grow up with joy July 29, 2024

2 Corinthians 13:11 Be joyful. Grow to maturity. Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you.

“Grammy, I want to walk on a trail.”

“I would love to go with you, Talita. Do you want to invite Caleb and Liliana too?”

“Yes, but Juliana is too little.”

I take a moment to observe my youngest granddaughter, deftly managing a popsicle in one hand and watermelon in the other.

As the three kids and I start down a sun-dappled trail into the woods, we decide they will take turns choosing which path to take each time we come to a “Y.” The chooser will be the leader until we come to another branch in the trail.

“Grammy, Caleb isn’t letting me be the leader!” yells four-year-old Talita as her six-year-old brother whizzes past her. “Caleb, come back!”

“I don’t want to go as slow as Talita. I want to RUN!” pleads Caleb, coming back to us.

I am thrilled with Caleb’s restored energy, now that he’s on the right diet for his newly diagnosed Celiac disease. I want him to celebrate feeling good again.

“Would you like Caleb to be your scout, Talita?” I suggest. “He can run ahead to the next curve and then come back to tell you what he finds out.”

“Good idea!” chimes in their four-year-old cousin Liliana. “When I’m the leader he can be my scout, too.”

“OK,” says Talita reluctantly. “I thought the leader has to always be in front.”

“A leader chooses which way for the group to go. But she needs information about what’s ahead to make a good choice,” I tell her.

“I’ll come back and tell you what I see,” promises Caleb, taking off again.

Liliana races after him. “I’ll be a scout with you, Caleb!”

Talita takes my hand and sighs. “I don’t think they’re letting me be the leader.” She starts singing, then stops. “Sing with me, Grammy!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know this song.”

“You could learn it on your phone.”

“But then I would be looking at my phone instead of enjoying the pretty flowers and trees.”

“Why did you bring your phone, then?”

“In case one of us gets hurt, or we get lost. I can use my phone to call for help.”

Caleb runs back to us with a lacy white flower.

“There are lots more of these around the bend, Talita. Hurry up so you can see them.”

“Grammy, the flower tickles my mouth when I smell it,” giggles Talita. “Here, try it!”

I take the flower and tickle my mouth as Talita grins. Then I hand the flower back to her and turn to Caleb.

“Thank you for your excellent scouting. The flower is very pretty. But do you remember—there’s a rule in parks. We can’t pick the flowers. We have to leave them for other people to enjoy too.”

Caleb hangs his head. “I forgot. I wanted to show it to Talita.”

“Tell you what. Next time we see pretty flowers we can take a picture. That’s a way of taking it home with us.”

“I saw pink flowers!” yells Lili. “Take a picture of me with them, Grammy.”

“Can I take the picture of Liliana and the pink flowers?” asks Talita.

“Good idea!” says Lili.

We all hurry after her to the site of the photo shoot. After one picture morphs into a series of photos in Talita’s hands as Lili makes funny faces, and of course a selfie, we continue down the trail.

Growing up involves so many skills, I muse. Learning to accept boundaries. Exploring possibilities. Practicing skills of negotiation. Trying different roles. I love these precious times with my littles. Oh— “No, Talita!” I yell. “We’re not walking in the river today!”

“Why not?” the other two ask me, running after their leader to the edge of the creek.

“Your parents agreed to a walk on a trail. Not to a walk in the river. I don’t think they brought clothes for you to change into. We can walk in the river another day.”

“Well, I’m already wet,” says Talita. “And don’t you always tell us we’ll dry?”

“I see a Y up ahead! It’s my turn to be the leader!” yells Lili. “Carry this big stick for me, Grammy, to show Juliana. Do you want to be a scout now, Tata?”

“Don’t call me Tata. No. Caleb can keep being the scout. I’ll walk with Grammy.” Talita comes out of the creek and takes my hand again. “But I’m the photographer, Liliana, so tell me if you want more pictures.”

“Good idea!” says Lili, dashing after her scout.

“Ooo, my shoes are squishy. But—”

“They’ll dry,” Talita and I say together.

Talita starts singing in Portuguese a song I do know, “Alelu, alelu, alelu, aleluia, glórias a Deus.” She picks up a stick to direct me in singing alternate phrases of the song. Then we follow our new leader down the branch of the Y she chooses, this one looping back to where we started our walk in the woods.

Talita glimpses our picnic site, adds her director stick to the collection the kids have asked me to carry to show Juju, and takes off after Caleb and Liliana.

I watch the kids’ reunion with their parents, and their excitement as I arrive with their treasures: dry leaves, one of them “gigantic,” sticks of several sizes, bark that has fallen off a tree trunk, a rock Caleb says is shaped like a gemstone, and the tickly white flower.

As I watch them, I hope I never grow too “mature” to enjoy the woods through the eyes of a child.