Being a Child of God...as an Adult

I heard today’s Gospel passage cited many times throughout my life. Yet, nobody ever explained to me what it tangibly looks like to become like a child in my relationship with Christ.

As I prayed over this, I came up with several characteristics of children that gave this concept more shape.  

Being a child means being small.  As a child, everything feels huge. 

Being like a child to Christ means being in awe of all that is much larger than I. 

Sometimes there were big things in my life that scared me, and I had to trust my parents when they told me not to be afraid. Being a child to Christ means trusting that He knows better than I do, especially when it comes to big scary things.
As a child, I often felt smaller than my emotions. Kids don’t usually know what to do with big emotions, which is one reason they have tantrums. When I was little, I used to think that it was best to hide when I was upset, because adults had too much to worry about already, without my problems on top of that.
Two things I learned about that:

1. This literally never solved any of my problems. 
2. It isn’t a child’s job to set boundaries for adults. How often do I, as an adult, decide what God’s limitations are?

God invites me to stop putting limits on Him, and to instead show up in our relationship as my entire self, tantrums and all. God can handle my anger, sadness, confusion, and frustration. He isn’t afraid of my humanity; He loves it. God is a caretaker who will never shame us for our big emotions, but instead will remain steady and supportive as we work through them.

Being a child means needing rest.  If there is anything I learned in therapy, it is that rest looks different for everyone. Sometimes, rest for me looks like watching ‘The Office’ and taking a nap. More often, my rest looks like hiking, painting, or journaling. However, it turns out that I’m not very good at resting! American society doesn’t place much value on slowing down, so taking time to restore myself frequently seems like a radical idea.

I can’t navigate the ups and downs of daily life, let alone build the Kingdom, if I am not taking care of myself and resting as much as I need. 

Being a child means needing play. Sometimes I think that play and rest are one in the same. Play for me looks like hiking, painting, biking, spending time with loved ones, going to concerts, trying new coffee shops, and chatting with strangers. As I reflected over this Gospel, I thought to myself, “How can I be playful in prayer?” When was the last time I raced Jesus down that big hill on my bike ride? Had tea with Him? Read my book out loud to Him? 

Jesus always shows up when I invite Him to play and rest with me. He loves hanging out! Sometimes we eat chicken wings and drink chocolate milk together. Sometimes I sit at the base of my favorite waterfall and listen to Him tell me stories in the rushing rapids. Other times, we nap together and drink coffee over a chat after. Whatever it is, I always find play to be more rejuvenating when I let down my walls enough for Jesus to say, “Hey, let Me meet you right here in this need.”

Sometimes I picture Jesus and I both as little kids. I’m inside reading, and Jesus is pleading through the screen door on my side porch, “Pleeeeease, Abbey! Please come out and play! I just got a new bike and I wanna race it! Please, please, pleeeeease! Come play with meeee!”  He so badly wants you to take His hand and run barefoot through the grass with Him. He so badly wants to play! 

Being a child means growing.  When I was little, I used to constantly measure myself to see if I grew. While my younger brother had multiple growth spurts that shot him up to a nice 6’, I was on a slow, steady, barely-noticeable climb to the glorious 5’1” I am today. Comparing my childhood growth to my brother’s never made me any taller. Likewise, Jesus reminds me that comparing my spiritual growth to that of others’ does not bring me any closer to Him. Jesus invites me to have grace for myself and others when it comes to spiritual growth, remembering that He made us all completely individual, and there is no wrong way to grow.

Being a child means needing a caretaker.  I think I’ve never been able to fully be like a child to God, because I expect God to act like a human caretaker.

I expect God to get overwhelmed with my questions and stressed out trying to meet my needs.

I expect that I can’t fully trust Him enough to tell Him my thoughts and desires; that He won’t be able to hold space for them, and I will have to become my own caretaker. I expect Him to let me down.  So, instead of showing up as a child in my relationship with Christ – walls down, wishes on my sleeve – I save us both the trouble and sometimes don’t even show up at all.



But here’s the thing: God is not a human, so He doesn’t parent like one. God is not a caretaker who makes mistakes. God will ask me to do my own work in our relationship, but He will never ask me to do His, too. Jesus sees where my inner child has built up walls to protect myself, and He gently encourages me to start tearing those down. He wants to show me that He is trustworthy, reliable, and graceful. Jesus invites me to allow Him to redefine parenthood, in whatever unique way I need it.

On the days when I feel like the lost sheep from today’s Gospel, Christ invites me to embody childhood, show up as my whole self, and collapse into His arms, trusting that even if I’m lost wandering the mountains, He will meet me right where I am.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Abbey Smith is currently a graduate student pursuing her MSW at Case Western Reserve University. Living just outside Cleveland, Abbey is Ohio’s biggest fan! If she isn’t creating or reading, it’s guaranteed you’ll find her out hiking the Cleveland Metroparks.  Abbey’s spirituality is deeply rooted in nature, and imaginative prayer is her favorite. She is a published poet, lover of tea and tattoos, and is always ready to talk about the intersection of faith and social justice. Find out more about her here.