All the Children of the World

‘Pa!

I have thirteen grandchildren, and I count them among my greatest treasure.

Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward from him. (Psalm 127:3)

So when the three that are at that very cute 2-year stage (we have 7 under 7) hold up their hands and say ‘Pa!’—or walk in the door with a quizzical look, as one (I’ll just call him ‘B’) is prone to do, loudly asking ‘Pa?’ (where's Opa?!) –it moves me. (A word of explanation: ‘Opa’ is a German abbreviation for Grandpa. We used to live in Germany, so that’s how most of our grandkids distinguish us, Opa and Omi, from the other side of their families.)

This morning, the same quizzical grandkid marched right up to the office and proceeded to climb into my lap. I let him stay there as long as he wants. Forget work. Forget reports. Forget bank balances, donation receipts, and whatever. They’re important, but he is more important than any of that.

Is that what it means to the Father when we run into His presence in prayer?

We don’t always know what to say, and I think it often sounds like the babble of a 2-year old. (This morning though he pointed out the ‘whit niff’ on my desk (my old Swiss Army Knife that I’ve managed not to lose—a little unusual edition with its well-worn once-white scales.)  He asks for my cell phone, but that’s not a good idea. Instead, I give him an old phone with the battery taken out, so he can’t inadvertently call 911.

I think we understand even less of God’s work than my grandson does of mine. I don’t let him play with a knife. He’ll cut himself with it—he doesn’t understand it’s purpose, nor have the fine motor skills needed to use it properly. And I don’t let him hit the computer keyboard. I don’t want two-year-olds to start typing in my reports—that’s my business, and he doesn't understand that, either. 

So how often do we try to put our hands on things that belong to the Lord—things that He might give us in due time, but right now isn’t it? Or we attempt to meddle in the Boss’s files, and grasp what He's doing. Maybe we will never be able to grasp some things, and aren't supposed to. Maybe He just wants us to enjoy His Presence?

Little ‘B’ does notice and perhaps understand the tattered photocopy of a young child—I have no idea where it came from (and no, it's not the picture shown above; this child's eyes are almost haunting)—but some of the sadness in that little girl’s eyes briefly interrupts our banter. ‘B’ stares at the page in a way that makes me turn it over in my mind—who is she, and where does she live? What pain is engulfing her? I don’t know, but it reminds me to pray for her, and other folks mentioned in our prayer notes that came in this morning.

I think God delights in a child-like (not ‘childish’!) spirit that sits on his lap, and spills some tears over children in places like Syria, Egypt and the Middle East, where many wield power for their own, often selfish purposes.

But it doesn’t end with sadness. ‘B’ is a child whose smile can light up a whole room. And after a while he climbs down off my lap, and saunters over to the door. ‘Bah (bye) ‘Pa!

Has he tossed off some worries, knowing that Opa will take care of them?  I don’t know the mind of a two-year old. But I do know that we should delight in the One who cares for us, and ‘throw our cares on Him, like a saddle on a horse (don’t ask me about saddles and horses; I got that description of this word from a Greek lexicon). One scholar translates it this way:

You can throw the whole weight of your anxieties upon him, for you are his personal concern.  (1 Peter 5:7, J.B. Phillips)

Good to know. Better to practice, in child-like trust.

And don’t forget the children in the Muslim world. Nearly half the population is under the age of 15. They smile, but they often don’t have much hope.

Does that break our hearts, like it breaks His?

And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also . . . . (John 10:16a, ESV)

P.S. the picture on the right was drawn for me by a Bible school student decades ago. And no idyllic nonsense about fluffy sheep. I've worked with them. They are usually dirty, and they stink. Carrying a smelly sheep on one's shoulders is not something I ever wanted to do. But Jesus does it. All the time.