There is an old adage that gets repeated from time to time in church circles regarding the merits of a “child-like” faith. It tends to go something like this: “We ought to trust in God with the faith of a child, a faith that resembles a child’s faith in the nature of their parents.” The implication is something akin to the idea of believing without doubting and taking God and His word at face value.
As best I can tell, this belief comes from the episode in Mark’s gospel that speaks of children being kept from Jesus by His disciples and His subsequent rebuke, found in Mark 10:13-16.
“13 And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. 14 But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. 15 Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.’ 16 And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them.”
As I read it myself, with fresh eyes, it’s hard to see where this idea comes from or, at the very least, how it could come from this passage. But I do believe we can learn something from the faith of a child, though it’s a very different lesson that I recently learned myself.
The other day, I had just finished taking a shower when I heard our son, Peter, in his room calling for me to get him out of his crib. After retrieving him, I brought him back to our room to let him sit on our bed while I finished getting ready. Every parent knows what kind of a treat playing on “mommy and daddy’s bed” can be for a small child. M&D’s bed is much bigger and much bouncier and, as an added bonus, his sister’s new markers and coloring book were also left on our bed.
Now, by the time that I had finally finished, he had managed to open the coloring book, uncap a marker or two, and began coloring a bit. But he also managed to get a bit of marker on our comforter. Luckily, they were washable markers but, regardless, not desiring to amass a large amount of artwork in need of an immediate washing, I excitedly let him know that we would take our otherwise fun and harmless art project downstairs.
As an eighteen-month-old toddler, he obviously could not understand every word of my direction, but like many children his age, he could figure out enough to understand what I intended to do. And he was not interested. He was resistant. He was outspoken. And not long after I took the book and the markers and the child downstairs to an appropriate location where he could color to his heart’s content. Even so, he was still not content but he eventually warmed to the idea and all crises were averted.
This example and so many others shows quite a different sort of faith of a child. One that distrusts, one that is fearful, one that is fickle, one that is selfish. But isn’t this so illustrative of the way we so often respond to God?
My son was not doing anything inherently wrong. A coloring book is made for coloring and he recognized that. The only thing wrong was that the time and place was inappropriate and isn’t this very much like many activities in our everyday life? Many otherwise uncontroversial and normal activities that we engage in, like eating, drinking, sleeping, talking, love, sex, work. They are all great things but God gives us guidelines as to when, where, and how to do them to honor Him the most. We often have a tendency to overcorrect and look negatively on certain aspects of life like these simply because in some cases and some environments, we have to exercise extra caution or abstain altogether. But most everything in life, coloring included, is holy and good. Just color neatly or where you’re not likely to leave a Picasso painting on the bed.
But there’s more. When I had to tell him that we were going to continue coloring somewhere else, he became defensive and resistant. Like a hungry animal protecting their hard-earned meal. Is this not a prescient example of how many of us treat the beloved parts of our lives? We all value our careers, our relationships, and our possessions, often with an otherwise healthy love. But when God seeks to correct one aspect of those things, our minds immediately expect the worse. We expect God to take them from us. That He wants to limit our happiness, limit our effectiveness, to cause us pain or teach us a lesson in sacrifice. But how many times have we made these situations worse by expecting the worst instead of assuming the best? That God may simply be showing us an even better way, an ever better time and place and opportunity to experience those gifts He has blessed us with. We do ourselves a great disservice when we trust our good more than God’s best.
No, a child-like faith (at least not that of any child of mine) is certainly not what I imagine Jesus had in mind when He rebuked His twelve followers, and they could certainly be pretty child-like in other ways. But it does help to show us a mirror image of our own faults and flaws in the way that we view and respond to our heavenly Father. Let us ensure that we daily strive for a mature faith, one that expects and experiences God’s good will for our lives.