Faith of a Child

A couple of weeks ago I sat in the living room of Dakota House with a little boy on my lap. He is the only boy who has the coveted privilege of being the solitary male allowed at Girls Only. If he were not allowed to attend, his sister could not either, as she is his main caretaker. So... every Thursday, there he is. Breaking the rule, knowing it, and smiling with his entire being.

On this Thursday we were watching the second half of The Gospel of John. I was very tired, having one of those days in which my body brings me somewhere and my heart and brain follow reluctantly. I was content, sitting there with him on my lap, his dirty little fingers occasionally stuffing the popcorn he was sharing into my hand.

The amazing gift I was given that evening was to see the whole of the Jesus story unfold before a believing child's eyes. This boy believes in Jesus with that legendary faith of a child we have long heard and talked about. He believes in Him because Miss Irisa and Miss Jamie have taught him to, and because the Holy Spirit is alive and well in his heart. He knows very little of the Bible and the stories we all know by heart.

So it was all new to him. His running commentary was pure gold.

When Jesus was calling Lazarus out of the grave:
"I think it's going to work, Miss Jamie. I do."

When the pharisees were after Jesus:
"Why don't they believe He is God? I would believe Him, Miss Jamie."

And when Jesus was dying on the cross, (whispered gently with hands clasped together) :
"I'm sorry Jesus. But I love you."

I left there that evening transformed. The faith of a child is a wondrously beautiful thing. I wanted to grab him up and take it in through my skin by osmosis... to somehow get to that place of sheer trust and pure belief. I drove home praying for just a glimmer of that kind of faith.

I pray for it still.