I can’t tell you how many hundred times I’ve heard the phrases “childlike faith” or “faith of a child.”
Neither churchy phrase is actually in the Bible.
The general idea originates from Matthew 18:3-4, where Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
Preachers have explained to me from pulpits that children inherently trust others, that they don’t bring a lot of baggage to their worldview, that they accept premises without a lot of investigation. As the uncle of thirteen developing humans, though, I’ve found that the inquisitive questions never stop. From what I’ve heard as the friend of multiple child counselors, kids can be skittish, skeptical, and complicated.
I’m not saying those pastors are wrong with their application—just that there’s more to it.
Children have more curiosity than most adults. Objects in their world are newer, bigger, and more impressive than they are in our world. For those first few years of life, almost everything is exploration.
Social scientists assert that humans (on the aggregate) grow less creative as we age. While adults might have more tools for problem solving and more resources for education, we are less pliable and adaptive the longer we live on the planet.
We stop putting random objects in our mouths to see how they taste. We investigate textures and shapes less often. The physical scale of the feats we attempt tends to shrink. With a catalog of past experiences, we gradually assume more and trust our assumptions. We return to places, activities, and sensations that we know we like more often than we search for new ones. Adults rarely recline in the grass and look for animal shapes in the clouds.
What we grown ups need is more childlike wonder.
Wonder leads to worship, and worship leads to faith.
The more we realize how big the world is and our proportion to it, the less self-sufficient we feel. (That helps with the whole “humility of a child” thing.) Best-selling author Gretchen Rubin wrote, “Enthusiasm requires humility. A willingness to be pleased requires modesty and even innocence.”
The more order and power and creativity we observe beyond our control, the easier it is to surrender our meager sense of control to a greater power. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “All I have seen teaches me to trust the creator for all I have not seen.”
A lot of preachers have warned against losing our first love (Revelation 2:4). Maybe we’ve just lost our first wonder. Maybe we need to be wowed again by what we take for granted. Maybe we need to count the things that amaze us as much as we count our blessings.
One of my favorite Bethel Music lyrics concurs: “May we never lose our wonder. Wide-eyed and mystified, may we be just like a child, staring at the beauty of the King.”
For me, refueling that wonder means exploring more nature. It includes reading about scientific discoveries. It requires that I filter art and music through the source of the creativity behind it. It challenges me to absorb more of other cultures—to recognize how diversity demonstrates a God who can be expressed in many ways. It asks me to consider the mysteries of love and attraction, the mystical side of sex. It leaves me to ponder cognition itself—the ability to wonder in the first place.
Beyond the conversations of philosophers, wonder can be harvested in our daily lives.
Your wonder list will be different than mine, but it’s important to ask ourselves on a regular basis, “Has anything amazed me lately?” And if so, “What do I do with that amazement?”
The answer to the second question is gratitude and worship. You might thank Fate, or Chance, or The Unknown. Personally, it leads me like a child back to the feet—maybe even the lap—of Jesus.
—
Stock image purchased from iStockPhoto.com
