Unless You Turn and Become Like Children

I went into the chapel with a lot on my mind.

Walking through the jungle of my interior life. Stumbling over the stumps of trees that the Gardener has cut down, and trying not to tread on those saplings which He has planted and is watering. Repelling the temptations to despair and despondency. Looking at future glory as through a dark and cloudy glass.

Family members in crisis. Housing market. Doctor visits. Grass withering. Flowers fading.

At the back of the chapel, there are two baskets of prayer requests: IN and OUT. I grabbed a handful from the IN pile.

It had been a long few days, with long hours of the most taxing sort of thinking and introspection. Life seemed so complicated. The Christian life seemed like a minefield. It seemed best for me to turn outside of myself for a while, and intercede for needs not my own. So I pushed through and grabbed one of the prayer request slips.

I looked down at the little paper in my hand.

The handwriting was nearly illegible. After a moment, I could see that it was the writing of a child. There appeared to be a few names written, before the pen lines devolved into scribbles.

I smiled involuntarily at the simplicity.

And, in the presence of our Lord, holding that child’s prayer request, I laughed.

This child, without guile, laid before God these scrawlings with absolute trust—almost impudence. He wrote with the same simplicity that he drew on construction paper at his kitchen table.

And here I was, holding misery and heaviness with white knuckles. My real, grown-up problems. Of course, some of my problems were very real. But, if I could laugh at the simplicity of the requests of this child, why could I not laugh at my own requests? Were they qualitatively different? Were they not all just as easy for God?

I considered my self-absorption, my labors, my cares—and I contrasted them to the scrawling of a child.

I flipped open my New Testament to continue my read through Matthew’s Gospel, and my eyes landed on the page:

“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children…” (Matthew 18:3)

The tears came out, the weight was gone, and there was nothing left to do but to bow my head and worship.