Luke 18:15-17
Just recently I was at camp Timber-Lee walking around on the grounds when I passed our tiny prayer chapel tucked away on the side of a hill that borders some woods. I felt compelled to take momentary refuge in the little sanctuary. Upon entering I was surprised to find the walls covered with drawings by Junior-aged campers. I was so overtaken by the sight of it that the dead silence and musty smell of the chapel didn't register until after a few moments. Leaning my walking staff against the single wooden bench I decided to scrutinize these taped crayon drawings more closely. A simple cross, a stick figure, and lots of misspelled words, all of them were attempts at worshiping God, and the question that immediately arose in my mind was whether or not we could really encapsulate God and what He has done for us in a simple drawing. How futile our attempts at worshiping God, how miserable our best efforts!
Yet, 'from the lips of infants you have ordained praise'. With my adult eyes I looked condescendingly down on the misspelled prayer scribbled in crayon, a prayer so theologically simple that it was almost laughable. Yet here was I, sitting in the musty, silent prayer chapel surrounded by scores of earnest expressions of gratefulness. It was at that moment that I heard God tell me: "Listen, I don't need your opinion, nor do I require your 'mature' form of worship. Stop trying to impress me with all your knowledge of theology. Though these little ones may be limited in knowledge, there is more authentic worship in this room than in all the halls of cathedrals and seminaries."
So there I was, sitting on the floor surrounded by crayons and scraps of paper. So I grabbed a sheet from the pile, crawled over to the crayon box and dug around until I had found my favorite color, green. Taking the blank sheet I stared at it for a moment, not knowing how best to approach this. I could hear my 'adult' mind start to insist on writing something theologically profound, but I resisted and simply put the crayon to the paper and wrote. What came from my hand was "God loves me" followed by a red heart and a green cross under which I wrote "I love God". Content with my handiwork I hung it on the wall amongst the others with some masking tape. Stepping back, I noted that one couldn't even tell that it was made by an adult male, it could have been a 5th grader for that matter. But even as I was noting all of this I suddenly felt a sigh of relief wash over me and a burden lifted, it was an emotion that I had not anticipated. I realized that of all my acts of worship, this one had felt the most genuine. Grabbing my Bible I turned to Luke 18:15-17 and read the words of Jesus with a renewed understanding.
"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."
