Challenged by the faith of a child
2 Timothy 3:16 “All scripture is God-breathed and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness.”
For once he wasn’t the one being disciplined. He lingered in the doorway listening to the serious tones used on his brothers as Steve and I were deep in the middle of some serious business. Turning towards his room, he bolted, only to return moments later ready to intercede. Quietly, he approached me while I continued speaking to his brothers. Matter-of-factly, he placed his adult Bible, his treasured possession, on my lap announcing confidently, “I know what we need. We need God’s Word to help us.”
Well, yes. Umm, yes we do. How do you respond to that? Of course we do. Of course we need the Bible to teach us and guide us. It’s usually my job to remember that. However, in the heat of the moment, I forgot what I most needed. Instead, I had turned to myself, my wisdom, my words. Until a 5-year-old gently reminded me I had help available right in that very moment that I wasn’t utilizing.
“Here, start here,” his raspy voice instructed as he opened the Bible, which fell naturally open to Proverbs. The wisdom book. So, I read. A peace transcended him, yet he wasn’t even the one in need of instruction in that moment. Reading God’s Word out loud changed the tone, channeled the emotions, brought tenderness and gentleness to replace sharp tongues and deflated spirits.
Andrew embodies something I desire for myself. The deepest hunger for God’s Word. Like we see so often in children, faith seems effortless, as natural as breathing. Jesus is life in the truest sense to him. I’ve always seen a sensitivity in his spirit towards God’s Word. At the beginning of K-4, his teacher commented to me how when she opens the Bible to read, he is captivated, soaking in every word. Fears of his failure to learn letters and numbers quiet as I see he grasps what truly matters. At least for this time period in his life.
Where Andrew challenges me the most is his courage to boldly proclaim his love of the Word. The world hasn’t lied to him yet. The world hasn’t influenced him to care more what others think yet. Last Saturday this had never been more evident.
Saturdays are usually spent at the baseball fields hopping back and forth between games. After Andrew’s game, we piled in the car for Jacob’s game. It’s always a mad dash, and this time was no different. Lunch was inhaled in 20 minutes, then we loaded up. As seat belts clicked, Andrew said, “Wait, I forgot something. Hold on, mommy, I’ll be right back. I need my Bible.”
“Andrew, it’s fine here. We will be home in a few hours.”
“No, I need to take it.”
He returned with his giant, adult Bible. The one he loves. The one he can’t read. The one that he sits in bed at night staring at the words. And when I turn his light out, I find him curled up with that giant Bible. I can only imagine the smile on God’s face at that sight. It’s precious beyond words.
20 minutes later, we are pulling into the ball field, unloading again. He grabs his giant Bible and his baseball hat. “Honey, you can leave that in the car. It will be fine.”
“No, mommy, I want it with me.”
Honestly, I felt so embarrassed. I just knew every parent thought I was a Pharisee walking around proclaiming my holiness. I imagined them saying, “Oh, look at her, thinking she is so holy, she even has her kids carrying Bibles to baseball games.” I was so embarrassed that I was quick to tell every single person that Andrew insisted on bringing it.
He sat with his little friend at the fence to the field, Bible open, watching the game. Eventually, he went to play with his friends and brought me the Bible for safe keeping. I quickly hid it under my purse. I mean it’s one thing when people know I write about everyday faith, but it’s another thing completely when they see me carrying around a Bible. I’m not proud of this, but it’s the truth. I care what people think. Though, I will tell you I don’t. We know the truth.
The clearest picture I have of a soul that can’t get enough I captured last week. The day had been long, hard, and cruel to a 5-year-old. So he fought back hard, until there was no fight left in him. When I entered his room, I stopped in the doorway speechless. A little boy who had cried for 2 hours and had the roughest evening lay as peaceful as I’ve ever seen. His head rested on that giant Bible, his treasured possession. He may only be 5, but his soul knows Who it longs for.
His little life speaks to me, challenges me. I want to boldly proclaim my faith. I want to run hard to God’s word before lashing back with my tongue. I want to lay my head down at night soaking in His Word into the empty corners longing to be filled.
Psalm 4:8 “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, will keep me safe”
