LIKE A CHILD (Matthew 18)

Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom.

(Matthew 18:2-5 Message)

Forgive me a proud Grandma moment.

My daughter-in-law’s grandmother passed away recently. Of the considerable family gathered, my little girl is the one who said, “Mimi has gone to be with God in heaven.”

Mimi died of cancer, and her final days were difficult. Jordan still had Mimi on her mind. In her night time prayer, she asked, “Please make Mimi feel better.”

Mimi was in heaven, with only God to take care of her. Jordan just wanted to talk to God about her.

My daughter Jolene had a similar kind of faith. She pictured flinging herself into Jesus’s waiting arms when she died. When she died, I’m sure He stood, arms flung open to hold her.

Right before the end, my mother developed signs of dementia. One time when I came to visit, she was sitting up in bed, speaking quietly.  She smiled brightly when I entered. “I was just talking to Jesus about you.” She knew His presence, not by faith alone but with a childlike understanding.

Church hymns touch our residents Like the people here at the nursing home who cry, sing along or cry, when visiting churches sing the songs of childhood. “Tell me the story.” “Amazing Grace.” “Jesus Loves Me.”

Confused minds. Incomplete thoughts. Irrational thinking.

But…faith that God is at the center of everything. Faith like a child.

I pray that I cling on to Jesus with that kind of faith as my time comes closer.

MOUNTAIN MOVERS

“Because you’re not yet taking God seriously,” said Jesus. “The simple truth is that if you had a mere kernel of faith, a poppy seed, say, you would tell this mountain, ‘Move!’ and it would move. There is nothing you wouldn’t be able to tackle.”

Matthew 17:20, Message

This verse is one I struggle with. Mostly with conceiving why anyone would want to move a mountain—or maybe that’s the question. Jesus’ answer speaks to a bigger problem.

Peter had given the perfect answer when asked about “Who do you say that I am?” Jesus rewarded him, along with James and John, to the Mount of Transfiguration.

After that miraculous encounter, they must have expected to march into Jerusalem at the head of an army. Instead, three times before the end of the chapter, Jesus tells them I’m going to die. I will be raised again.

They didn’t have a clue what Jesus meant. Look at the questions they asked:

·         Wasn’t Elijah supposed to come first?

·         Why couldn’t we cast the demon out of this man? (Just a note: the nine other disciples. The big three were away with Jesus when the situation developed.)

·         When Jesus repeated His warning, they felt terrible. They didn’t ask questions.

·         When the Pharisees tested Jesus about paying the temple tax, that becomes the important question.

I wish I could say I would be different. But I’m the same way. I make an excellent ostrich. I stick my head in the sand until the last possible second of a mounting emergency.

I don’t take God seriously enough. If I fill my mind and heart with His word, His love, his will—I might stop asking stupid questions. I might join God in what He’s already doing.

The disciples wanted a kingdom. God offered them salvation.

I want fans in the tens of thousands. Instead God hands me a table with three emotionally and dementia challenged women.  No mother could feel any prouder when I see small steps of progress. I feel like my genuine love and concern helps those three women.

Forget the thousands. Them I don’t know about.

But my small community here, I do know and am known. If I take God seriously, I will work here with joy and abandon.