like a child

        A few days ago, a little boy and his dad came to our house.  The dad was delivering something.  While he was talking, the little boy walked over to me, looked up with smiling eyes and said proudly, "That's my Daddy."  "That's my Daddy" is the rock under his little feet.  It's the air he breathes.  It's the reason his eyes can smile.

"Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child shall not enter it at all." Mark 10:14-15.


        I learned a new word yesterday -- "mommydaddy."  I learned it from Caroline.  Caroline is two, and her little world rests securely on the bedrock of mommydaddy.  Brian is her father, and he is "mommydaddy."  Peyton is her mother, and she is "mommydaddy."  Mommydaddy loves Caroline, and that makes Caroline's world a safe and fearless place, a place bursting with possibilities, a place of wonder.  When Caroline finds out that God loves her, too, she won't be surprised.  It will make perfect sense to her because of Mommydaddy.

Do it again!

        Do you ever wonder what God is like?  I mean really wonder, beyond dusting off the remnants of Sunday school answers and bits and pieces picked up over the years in conversations and classes?    

        Most of us don’t.  We just go through life, day after day, with a vague idea of Someone up there (maybe) – Someone remote and, well, boring.  Someone who imposes rules and regulations and makes demands we can’t meet.  Someone who does His best to ensure that we don’t have any fun, or, if we sneak some in, makes us feel guilty about it.  No wonder we keep our distance.  We’d be crazy not to.

        But what if we’re wrong?  What if He’s fascinating and beautiful and creative beyond description-- the one who thought up angel fish and baby’s skin and hummingbirds?  What if we’re the ones who are, by comparison, flat and boring and lifeless -- the bad kind of grown-up?  What if.

“The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they specially enjoy.  A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life.  Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged.  They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead.  For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.  But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony.  It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon.  It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.  It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."


G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy