Childlike Faith

This is one of my most favorite pictures I've ever taken. Yep, you read that right. I took it.

This little guy is four years old now, but this is still my favorite picture of us. His parents dropped him off at my house one afternoon while they took his older sister to see a movie. It was my first time to watch just him (normally I'd have his sister too), and we had a great time together. When he fell asleep, I just snuggled with him and decided it would make a great photo...

I share this with you because last night I had a dream. Well, it was really more like this morning - in between snooze hits. I know it was a quick dream - because it had to be packed into a 9 minute span - but it was pivotal.

If you've read much of the Bible, you know that God often spoke to people through dreams back then. I don't know how often He does that today, but I know it's not often for me. Or if He does, I need some serious help with interpretation, because I have some WEIRD dreams. Actually I'm waiting for him to bring back the writing-on-the-wall method. I like clarity.

But this dream made an impression. And it included this sweet baby - who is now a cute little boy who delivers the best one-liners I've ever heard and can force you out of any exasperation you may feel toward him with one bat of his long eyelashes.

I walked into the church sanctuary, which was nearly full of people, and the music drifting from the front told me the service was about to begin. The room was very dark. The lights above were shut off, no windows flanked the walls, no candles flickered. The only light came from the open doors at the rear of the room. Though the building was completely unfamiliar to me, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I was surprised to recognize many who had gathered to worship.

The pews near the back, of course, were full, so I moved forward, carefully picking my way through the dimly lit room. At last I arrived at the front row and found an empty seat next to my good friends. I noticed that the space between the front pew and the platform seemed to serve as the church nursery. Toys were strewn about and small children crawled around chewing on them. That could get distracting.

I don't remember much about the beginning of the service, but a few minutes later, the minister dismissed the children to their own church and all the kids toddled away from the space in front of me toward some destination in the back.

All but Liam.

He stood and looked at me, and I could see even in the dim light that he had a rash on his face and just did not feel good. He looked around at all the toys and then walked right to me and held up his arms. I reached down to pick him up and he looked at me with those big, beautiful eyes. He scratched his face and then curled up and knelt in my lap, snuggling close against me. His lashes fluttered and he fell asleep there in my arms.

The sermon began, and those in the front row kicked stray toys out of their way and settled in to listen. My friends next to me clasped hands and opened their Bibles. And I just sat there, gazing at this little boy. Now and then he'd stir, scratch his face, wince a little, and then he'd settle back in and sleep soundly, cuddled close to me.

And then my nine minutes were up and the alarm blared.

I thought about the dream, including the not-so-spiritual part where I walked in and saw the one person who got on my nerves the most. Seriously? I can dream about all these great friends and THAT'S the person who shows up in the sanctuary first? I'm sure there is a spiritual application to be learned there but I haven't learned it yet.

But it wasn't until I walked in to work, still thinking about the dream, that I found the parallel to my life. Last week in our midweek Bible study at church, we studied the passage where Jesus talked about coming to Him like a child. That imagery has stayed with me and I've been thinking about it a lot. Childlike faith. Childlike trust.

In my dream, Liam was just living life...just playing with toys...just living a Sunday. But then the thing that wore him down got the best of him and he just needed loved and held. All the other kids were going on with their Sundays. But he didn't need to play right then. He needed held. And even in the dimly lit room, he found his way to someone he knew would love him and hold him. He knew that because ever since he was a baby, he'd been held and loved by me. Without hesitation, he climbed up into my lap, curled up, and rested, knowing he was safe.

And isn't that what the Lord is asking of me?