(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on July 2, 2017, Proper 8)
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The Blessing under Our Nose
Today and next Sunday, I am doing something that makes me feel a little delinquent. I am deviating from the lectionary—the church calendar of scripture readings—and selecting a scripture myself. Why?
For a small church, Gayton Road has always been blessed by a lively bunch of children and youth. I say that word “blessed” very intentionally: not only to mean, we’re “fortunate” or “lucky” to have children among us, but also to mean that our children do indeed bless us.
This next school year, I’ll be encouraging us to discover this blessing, if we haven’t already, by sharing some time with our children. Maybe as an occasional Sunday School teacher, maybe as a volunteer at one of their events, maybe simply by sitting next to them at worship.
So today and next Sunday, I would like us to spend time with Jesus as he spends time with children, and to discover the blessing that lives right underneath our nose.
My First Gayton Road Memory:
Kids, Legos, and Possibility
My first real memory of Gayton Road Christian Church is a Sunday. I’ll be honest: I don’t remember a thing about the worship service. I recall vaguely that there was a potluck luncheon afterward, and while I imagine that I met a number of folks then, I don’t remember any of those introductions. What I do remember, very clearly, is that as the luncheon was winding down, I discovered two boys playing with legos in the nursery. I asked what they were building. They explained: cars, spaceships, houses. From time to time, they would dismantle their creation and begin anew on something else. The game, I learned, wasn’t about end product but about the play of possibilities.
Kids love legos, so it should have been no surprise for me to see Vasik and Radek playing with them that Sunday morning. But when I grew up, there were no legos at church—only these generic, wooden building blocks. Legos, I think, are a part of Gayton Road’s unique genetic makeup. They are a part of our kids.
And if they teach nothing more than possibility, then they have already taught more than many Sunday School lessons.
An Example of Greatness
When Jesus called a child to stand among his disciples, he was showing them an example.
Jesus loved using examples. Footwashing. Breaking bread, passing a cup. If you ever forget what love looks like, it’s easy enough to remember. It looks like a basin of water. It looks like a table, a cup, a loaf. Love looks like serving one another; love looks like sacrifice and sharing.
What Jesus does today—calling a child to stand among his disciples—is not so different from these other examples. This isn’t simply a sweet, sentimental anecdote meant to give us warm fuzzies. It’s Jesus showing his disciples what greatness looks like.
The disciples ask Jesus, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” and instead of answering them, he waves a child over into their midst. You want to look upon the greatness of the kingdom? Look upon this child. After making his point with a stunning example, he makes his point in words: “Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever makes himself as low as this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (18:3-4).
The Greatness of Children:
Position, Not Personality
If the greatness of the kingdom is a child, then Jesus still has some “splainin’” to do. Because I have about four months’ experience of teaching middle- and high-school age kids, and those were four long months. From spitballs to insults, cliques and cat fights to broken hearts, I saw firsthand the unsavory side of childhood and adolescence. Selfishness, jealousy, vengefulness, emotional turmoil.
Is this what Jesus means when he urges us to become like children? Is this the picture of greatness in the kingdom of heaven?
My guess is that Jesus is talking about something much deeper than personality. The personalities of children are as variable as the personalities of adults. Some of the students in my class were the most respectful folks I’ve met; others exhibited such rage as I’ve rarely seen elsewhere. I’m sure some of you could say the same for your work colleagues.
My guess is that Jesus is not endorsing a change in personality. Rather, he’s suggesting a change in position. He’s not inviting us to become like a child in our habits: to suck our thumbs or pick our nose or anything like that! He’s inviting to take the position of a child.
Growing Up and Growing Down
In the Earthsea stories by Ursula Le Guin, which are stories much like C.S. Lewis’ Narnia series or Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, there is a simple but profound scene near the beginning of the story, when the young man who will grow up to be the hero enters into the school of wizards. He stands at the gate of the school. There he is greeted by an old man who says, “This is the school…. I am the doorkeeper. Enter if you can.” The boy steps through the doorway—but then finds that by some strange magic he is still standing outside. He feels angry and mocked. Remembering an old spell that his mother taught him, he says the special words. But still he is unable to pass through the doorway.
Finally the boy looks to the doorkeeper and says: “I cannot enter…unless you help me.”[1] And the doorkeeper lets him in.
I love this story because it symbolizes the boy’s growth—and our growth too, I think. The boy stands not only in front of the doorway to school. He stands also in front of the doorway to life. He stands at a crossroads. In which direction will he grow?
The boy has been growing up. The world has been teaching him the ways of power and status. He has learned spells that give him control of things. He has learned the importance of appearance and influence. We learn much the same in our world, where our schools—with their debate clubs and athletic programs and dances—teach us how to win arguments, win fights, and win the admiring looks of others.
If the boy were intent on growing up, on growing in control and status, then he would not have been able to enter the doorway. He would have turned around in pride and lived out a grasping, clutching life among other grasping, clutching adults.
But instead he lets go of his pride and his control, and he admits his helplessness and need. He takes the position of a child. He grows down.
Real Maturity
To be clear, growing down is not the avoidance of adulthood. It is not an escape to some Neverland where all is youth and fun and games.
In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul laments that the Christ-followers in Corinth are still “babies in Christ” (1 Cor 3:1), not yet ready for “solid food” (1 Cor 3:2). What exactly is their problem? According to Paul, it is “jealousy and quarreling.” Which is to say, it is the same problem that Jesus repeatedly addressed in his grownup disciples: the grasping for power and prestige, the clutching after control and status.
In the world, people usually grow “up.” They grow into influence and authority and wealth. Which is another way to say, they grow full of themselves—selfish and controlling and possessive.
Real growth according to Paul and Jesus—real maturity—moves down rather than up. In the kingdom, the greatness of a mature adult will be the humility and openness and trust of a child.
Two Ways of Growing Old
There’s another way to say this:
There are two ways of growing old.
I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Sometimes you meet old folks who have grown “anxious and bitter.” They may have grown up very well—grown into possessions and power and good looks—but now that they are losing those things, their growth is shown for what it is: selfishness. They never stepped foot into the kingdom of which Jesus spoke. They were too busy trying to build their own empire, and now it is crumbling fast.
But on the flip side, sometimes you meet old folks with a child’s heart. It’s as though they relish their loss of power and prestige. They have rediscovered the freedom of being powerless and trusting and humble.[2] They approach life like Radek and Vasik approached that box of legos: not as a matter of end product, but as a play of possibilities. Rather than grow up, they have grown down, down to a place where they cannot do it on their down, down to a place where they must trust in a power other than themselves, down to a place of prayer, down to a place where the world looks surprisingly like legos and becomes full of possibility.
Icons of the Kingdom
A basin of water. Bread and cup. A child. These are all examples that Jesus gives us to remind us of what the kingdom looks like.
Our children bless us. They are icons of the kingdom. May we have the eyes to see it and the hearts to follow.
Prayer
Lowly Christ,
You yourself became small
Like a child,
Entrusting yourself to us
As you gave freely
Your love and forgiveness:
Help us to grow “down,”
To expose ourselves
To a life of trust, sharing, and service,
To open ourselves
To your kingdom.
Amen.
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[1] Ursula Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2012), 39.
[2] Jean Vanier, Community and Growth (Rev. ed.; New York: Paulist Press, 1989), 140-141.
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