Last night, I strung the lights on our tree in what has become our new tradition of putting up the tree with just the lights right before Thanksgiving. Our daughter, 8 going on 9, came into the living room and stopped in the doorway and looked over at me with a wide grin. “The lights!”
She half walked/ half skipped over to the tree and stood in front of it, taking it in and admiring all of the beauty of the lights aglow. Then she started bouncing up and down and laughing with delight. It was such a moment of pure joy and pure immersion into the moment that I couldn’t stop watching and couldn’t help but getting caught up in the wonder.
Like so many people, I feel the bittersweetness of this season – and the past several days have held moments of tears and deep grief for the ones who I have loved and lost or grown distant from over the course of my life. But in this moment, I reconnected with the awe and magic of the season which often eludes me as I grow older.
This morning, I’m reflecting on how much this one moment reminds me of something else. Something I’ve been pondering and mulling over before sharing it.
What if we reclaim “child-like faith?”
Coming from a background in Pentecostalism and having been part of a cultic church, this phrase was a familiar and often repeated adage within the church. Anyone else remember the Jars of Clay song on the theme?
At its worst, this phrase has been used to push authoritarianism, devotion without question, and unexamined belief. In high control contexts, no one outside of the leadership team has the right to use their voice, especially not children (or often women, but that’s another topic for another day.)
But that’s not natural child-like faith. Children are natural born questioners. Take it from someone in the throes of kindergarten and third grade parenting. Children ask lots of questions. Little questions, big questions, silly questions, hard questions, gut wrenching questions, and questions for every response you give to their questions.
Children are also honest – often too honest for our adult tastes. Children have no filters, don’t respect social norms, and they say how they feel when they feel it. Whether it’s that they don’t like your work clothes, that they are sad their parent didn’t come to the school function, or that they love you to infinity.
Children also express themselves in bold and beautiful ways we often wouldn’t dare. Like when our daughter bounced up and down in front of the Christmas tree, or the way children dance like no one is watching even when people are. The way they let themselves be weird and follow their interests and immerse themselves in a story or a hobby.
What if true child-like faith means reclaiming the wonder, mystery, curiosity, and expressiveness we are born with?
How do we become more child-like in this way?
I think one of the best ways is through play. We forget to play as adults. Too often, we reach for devices and remotes and tune in and veg-out instead of engaging our senses, nature, and each other in games, imagination, and delight. Play helps us be curious. It helps us move and laugh and be in the moment. Play reconnects us with our inner child. Through engaging in play more regularly, we can better carry playfulness into other areas of our lives.
Equally powerful is listening to and being in connection with children. This can look like parenting, being an aunt or uncle (given or chosen), volunteering/teaching, or being involved in a community group. Being around children and knowing and loving kids in our lives brings us closer to precious knowledge and truth – the things we forgot when we grew up. And kids are ready and eager to connect with us, for us to listen to and truly see and hear them.
In whatever ways we become more child-like in our own spirituality and belief, this is an important step in growing beyond deconstruction and into reconstruction and reclaiming. Perhaps as we are moving into a season where we often reflect on belief and spirituality, we can embrace our own inner child and recover our sense of wonder and magic.
(Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Unsplash)