Let the children come

A word for the week

Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them. It is one of the most tender scenes in the Gospels, and it starts with the disciples getting it exactly wrong. People are bringing their children to Jesus, just to have him touch them, bless them, and the disciples, thinking they are protecting his time and dignity, shoo them away. He is too important for this, they seem to think; he has real work to do, kingdoms to discuss, crowds to teach; take the toddlers home. And Jesus, Mark tells us, was indignant. Not mildly annoyed. Indignant. It is one of the few times we are told he was angry, and it was at his own followers, for keeping the children away.

Let them come, he says, and do not stop them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. And then he pulls the children up into his arms and blesses them. Look long at that picture: the most important person in the story stops everything, gathers up the ones the world counts as least important, the small, the unproductive, the ones who cannot do a single thing for him, and holds them, and blesses them. That is not a detour from his work. That is his work, on full display.

But then he says something that turns the scene from sweet into searching. Whoever will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child, he says, will never enter it. He is not just being kind to children; he is holding them up as the picture of how anyone gets in at all. Like a little child. What does that mean? Not childish, not naive. Think about what a small child actually is before God. A child has nothing to offer, no accomplishments, no resume, no wealth, no status to trade. A child simply receives; they are given to, cared for, held, and they take it without embarrassment because they know they cannot provide for themselves. A child depends, openly, without pretending otherwise.

And that, Jesus says, is exactly how you receive the kingdom: with empty hands, as a gift, not as something you earned. The reason it is so hard for the successful, the accomplished, the self-made, is that they have spent their whole lives providing for themselves, proving themselves, earning their place. And you cannot earn this. You can only receive it, the way a child receives supper, without a thought that they deserved it. The very competence that serves you everywhere else gets in the way here, because it whispers that you should be able to earn your standing with God, and you cannot, and the trying keeps you out.

So the children the disciples tried to push aside turn out to be the teachers. They show you the posture: come with nothing, receive everything, depend without shame. Do not come to God with your accomplishments held out for inspection. Come the way a child climbs into a lap, empty-handed, trusting, glad to be held. The kingdom belongs to such as these, Jesus said, and then he gathered them up in his arms, which is exactly what he wants to do with you.