There is nothing quite the same as looking straight into the eyes of an adorable four year old girl, and listening to her ask (in all seriousness) for you to kiss her cat scratched finger and make it all better. It about took my breath away, and as I gently smiled and complied, I believe I caught a glimpse of what child like faith really looks like.What if I let Jesus tuck me in at night? Listen to the story of how He has overcome the world, and then sleep deeply, assured that He will take care of tomorrow. What if I let Him lead people into my life according to His timing? What if I ran straight to him at the first clap of resounding thunder in a storm? Then I would be a much better disciple than I am now.
I would no longer worry about tomorrow; I would find rest in Him. I would no longer try to reach out in my own strength; I would wait for His to intervene. I would no longer try to solve problems by myself turning to Him as a last resort. Most four year olds have not yet reached the why stage.They don’t have to understand everything, or know what’s coming next. They simply trust with abandon expressing their every emotion to those around: from bubbling giggles to stubborn hearted temper tantrums. I’m pretty good at the temper tantrums, but I’m no longer looking at the world with new eyes. I tend to miss the little things. It seems that toddlers have a whole lot more to teach me than I have for them. Oh, for the faith of a four year old. I don’t know if I’m growing closer to it or further away.I pray that it’s the former, and yet I’ve come to observe that big things come in small packages, and big faith comes in small bodies.