Sermon: Becoming Child-like Again

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“Becoming Child-like Again”

By Charles Rush

March 11, 2007

[ Audio (mp3, 5.3Mb) ]

e sermon today is on becoming child-like again, taking two passages of scripture. This was one of the few weeks I was able to actually practice what I preach. Yesterday I was with my grand-daughter and she's at that age now where she can barely walk, and she's picking up those books one after another coming over and sitting in my lap and having me read the same four books to her over and over and over again. I was reading “Goodnight Moon”, and I was thinking to myself I've never really gotten beyond “Goodnight Moon” – that's about my level of sophistication right there.

We read in Acts chapter 4 this rather extraordinary passage, which we rarely refer to but is very important, and thinking about the direction that we're supposed to become. “Now the company of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that they possessed their own things only for themselves, but they shared everything in common. And with great power they gave their testimony about what God had done for them, through Christ. Grace was upon all of them, and there was not a needy person among them, for those who possessed a great deal of land or other goods sold them, brought the proceeds of what was sold, and laid it at the apostles' feet, and distribution was made to those who were in need.

Somebody sent me a piece from an author who suggested that if life were really to make sense, we should probably live it backwards. “Life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time, all your weekends, and what do you get for it in the end?… I think if the life-cycle were backwards, we would die first, and get that out of the way. They we'd live twenty years in an old age home. We'd get kicked out when we were too young. We'd get a gold watch, and go to work. We'd work for forty years until we were young enough to enjoy your retirement. We'd go college and learn to party until we were ready for high school; then we'd go to grade school and become a little kid, then we would play. And eventually we would have no responsibilities. We would become a little baby, go back into the womb, and spend the last nine months of our life floating. And we'd finish up as a gleam in somebody's eye.”

Not a bad scenario. And it strikes me as biblically spiritual as well. For the scriptures continually suggest to us that we are being called together to transform ourselves and our world in a ‘transvaluation of values' in the words of Nietzche. We are called to grow, indeed. But we are asked to grow more childlike in faith, to grow younger in service to others, to grow more playful and trusting with each other and with our God who will take care of us. This is what we do together as the people of God.

Let's face it. We really need each other to hold ourselves accountable. In the bible, the people of Israel came together during certain times of the year to hold counsel for the wisdom of the ‘elders of Israel'. They would settle political problems, coordinate their planting schedules and pasturing, as well as feast together. And they also often pledged themselves again to follow in the ways of God. Periodically, they would meet and divide themselves between two mountains, half-standing on the side of one mountain, half on the other. In the middle the priest would lead them and they would recite their pledge to keep the Ten Commandments, repeating each of them antiphonally. They would remember the story of the way that God took them out of Egypt and formed a people out of them. They would pledge to teach their children the story and keep the covenant with their God.

The Jews still go through a similar recommitment between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We are told by Rabbi Jochanon, the famous sage who lived some 1900 years ago, that on Rosh Hashanah, the New Year, three great scrolls are opened in heaven. The first is for the thoroughly righteous, the second for the completely wicked, and the third is by far the most enormous scroll for it contains the rest of us who are in-between- neither saints nor devils either.

On the first day of the New Year, the completely righteous are inscribed into the Scroll of Life. And the completely wicked are inscribed in the book of death. But what of the rest of us who are in-between? The Rabbi explains that their future is left in the balance, under advisement, from Rosh Hashanah until the close of Yom Kippur, when the Jews atone for their sins. And in that long week, the people of God come together to examine themselves and hold each other accountable.

We need each other to keep us in check. I don't know too many people who are able to see themselves as they really are. We know our limitations but we do not really appreciate the manner in which they constrict us because we have grown accustomed to living with them. Likewise, we really need each other to be lifted up and encouraged.

During WWII French doctors used to describe a well known condition of the concentration camps ‘barbed wire sickness'. One of its symptoms was an appalling sense of futility and meaninglessness of existence. No matter what camp activities were organized, nothing, it seemed, could banish from their minds the awareness of that barbed wire. The doctors realized that as much as the barbed wire, the dogs, and the guard towers, these prisoners were captive of their own despair. Indeed, all of us are captive to the constrictions of our spiritual psyche more than we will ever know. We have to be told by others about them. We have to be told by trusted friends about the degree to which our spiritual psyche constricts us.

There was a cartoon depicting a modern jetliner that had just crashed and was sinking into the ocean in the background. Three life boats were making their uncertain way filled with survivors and, in one of these boats, a woman turned to her husband to ask, ‘Alfred, are we still in first class?' We cannot see ourselves for who we really are, in the situation as it really is. Our spiritual psyches focus in their constricted way. We need each other to keep us accountable, to tell us what we are really like.

And we need each other to help us grow. There are a great group of parents here today who have made a commitment to church because they think that it is important for their children and it is. We rightly have our focus on children in this congregation and I wouldn't have it any other way. And part of that is because we need them to remind us of the direction God would have us all to grow: more childlike.

Just before her death, Erma Bombeck wrote a piece entitled “If I Had My Life to Live Over”. It's something we all should write for ourselves. This is what she said: “…I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded. I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about the grass stains. I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, would show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime. When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, ‘Later. Now get washed up for dinner'... There would have been”, she concludes, “more I love yous, more I'm sorrys, but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize ever minute, look at it and really see it, live it, and never give it back.”

Jesus beckons us on a spiritual pilgrimage that takes us from death toward birth, from the control of maturity toward the risky and free trust in God that we have in childhood. Erik Erikson was right. He said our choice is between “generativity and stagnation, between continuing to have an impact, or sitting around and waiting to die.” And that isn't just for our Senior citizens, it's for the old cuss in all of us. Norman Mailer put it a little more bluntly “Every moment of one's existence, one is growing into more or retreating into less. One is always living a little more or dying a little bit…”

Growing spiritually means becoming child-like in many respects. We adults are programmed to think that the more prestige we garner, the more perks and privileges we ought to enjoy. As a result, we generally delegate more the older we get and we generally actively do less and less. “Cut my own grass?” I've already been there, done that but no more.” “Wash my car? I've already been there, done that, but no more.” “Clean my house? I've already been there, done that, but no more.” “Cater my own parties”, “fix the leaky faucet”, this list grows a wee bit every year. Have you ever noticed that ?More than we like to admit, the older we get the more we resemble a bad joke a friend of mine makes about his New York mother. Says he ‘she doesn't make dinner; she makes reservations.'

Jesus beckons us to get involved and make a mess where necessary. Jesus lures us into recovering that simple sense of service we had as children. The story is told of a group of Rabbi's were had finished their semester of study together when one of the group suggested that they celebrate with a little wine. He even offered to pay for the refreshment, but there was no one who offered to go make the purchase.

Finally, the grand-Rabbi, the elder in the group, said, ‘just hand me the money, I have a young boy who will be glad to go.' After a rather extended period, their teacher finally returned with the refreshments, and it became obvious to them all that the Rabbi himself, their own teacher, had gone and performed the errand.

Noticing their discomfort, the Rabbi explained: “I didn't mislead you at all. You see, many people outgrow their youth and become old men. I have never let the sprit of my youth depart. And as I grew older, I always took along with me that ‘young boy' I had been. It was that young boy in me that did that errand.”

We need to grow into the young boy and girl in each of us that simply and directly does what needs to be done in service, not worrying about our position or our privilege, or our place.

And we need to grow into children when it comes to open inquiry. I love little kids. They will ask anything at all and not be the least embarrassed about it. You get so much farther that way. Little Natalie Akers one time asked me ‘Chuck, are you Jesus?' Her mother said ‘No, but he thinks he is.' There was another little fella that came up to Julie with a question that was really important to him. She brought the lad to me and he said, “Are you and Rev Yarborough married?” I asked him why he asked and it was because we both wore robes. Another young lady once asked me where I lived. So I threw it back at her and said ‘Now where do you think I live?' and she pointed to the back of the church. I said ‘where are you pointing?' She said ‘the bell tower'.

We need to be asking the simple questions that are on our mind that we don't ask because we are afraid of looking silly. Simple questions like: ‘how do I pray?' ‘How does God change my life?' ‘How do I love a person who does a bunch of things I really don't like?' ‘What should I know out of the Bible and where can I learn it?' ‘What is the meaning and purpose for my life?' ‘What does God want me to do in my job, my marriage and family, with my friends?' ‘How can I forgive when I'm so damn mad I could spit nails?' ‘How can I get more faith when I'm basically afraid and anxious and agnostic most of the time?' ‘What should I teach my children if I don't really know myself?' We need to help each other to grow into children, to have permission to ask the simple questions that we think we should know (and that probably everyone else around us knows) but we don't and are just plain embarrassed to admit.

Finally, we need to help each other grow into children that have that simple wonder and trust in God, in people, in the world. When the disciples came to Jesus to ask him about dealing with the anxieties of responsible adulthood, he replied ‘I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Look at the bids of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they” (Mt. 25, 26). Apparently, life lived fully in the Spirit has a simple child-like dependence that ‘God will provide'. Certainly that was what the early church thought. We are told that when they met together they ‘shared all things in common and no one counted possessions as their own.' They didn't worry about possessing. They trusted God and each other. We may never get to that level of sharing but we do need to move in the direction of Child-like trust in God and each other.

Someone sent me again this week, the estimated cost of raising a child through college. It is now $160, 140 or just over a dollar an hour. And what is it that you get for that? "A hand to hold, usually covered with jelly or chocolate,"… "A partner for blowing bubbles and flying kites,"… "Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs," "Someone who will make you jump goofy no matter how your portfolio performed that day." "Finger paint," "Lightning bugs," and an excuse to keep reading 'The Adventures of Pooh'. You get 'hand prints on Mother's Day' and 'spray painted noodle wreaths for Christmas'. And you get to be a hero just for removing a splinter or retrieving the Frisbee off the garage roof, for filling a wading pool, or coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs.

More than that, you get to recover that simple sense of wonder you have at the world itself and you remember to love without counting the costs. Frankly, it is a pretty good deal for the cost. Recover the best of yourself, remember your child. That is close to God. Amen