To See the World Anew

I love taking picture of the little ones in my life.

Nieces, nephews, god-children, and friends.

Yes, you can be honest to goodness *friends* with a child without any weirdness. Some of my most clever and insightful friends are 2, or 5, or 7 years old.

And sometimes it makes me sad how suspicious we adults have become. I watch my younger friends and their approach to the world, with wonder and awe and beauty and humor.

They run around freely. Completely.

Unashamed.

It’s not until we teach them not to be themselves that they begin to act like we do. It’s not until we show them how to live in a little bit more bondage. And even though many of these things – these boundaries, these rules – are necessary for our world, there is a certain loss of freedom that goes along with it.

There’s a lot of psycho-babble about reviving and nurturing your inner child. And a lot of it is babble. There are many childish behaviors that are not rooted in freedom and wonder, but in selfishness and will.

But there is a lot of truth to the idea that we need to become “as children” again. For Christians, it is an explicit command from Jesus. Yet, instead, we try to grow up, be ‘real’ adults, and live lives that reflect nothing of glory and wonder.

There is so much about Advent – and the whole Christmas season – that should be filled with glory and wonder. The Incarnation is such a strange and weird and unusual event, shrouded in both mystery and glory. A young baby born in a feeding trough in a rural area, a young woman (in her teens most likely) faithfully accepting the glorious child she’s been given. Angels singing, ascending and descending. Stars illuminating the sky and being signs in the heavens for anyone (even a bunch of magicians and astrologers from the deep East) to read. This story haunts me, because it is so far from the story that we tell today.

There is an excitement and childlike glee about Christmas, but often it is just about the presents or the loot. There is a lot of noise and chaos and cacophony.

This year, I want to be childlike for Christmas in a different way. I like presents, but I want to be filled with wonder about the world that we have been given to live in. I want to think even more about sustainability and caring for this incredible place. I want to be mystified with the glory that fills my world. I want to be overwhelmed with empathy and compassion, like my little friend Mia, and learn to love the world even more fully.

I want to see the world with new eyes.

You know how when children are in the room, people can almost not have an adult conversation? Because they are so mystified by whatever the children are doing that they can’t seem to concentrate? They mostly smile (when the children aren’t screaming or pitching a wobbly), and are filled with inexplicable joy and wonder.

I want to be *that* kind of person.

I want to be unashamed of who I am, how I engage the world. I want to trust in “Abba” for all the goodness that is waiting to be poured out in and through me. And I want to use it to show the world wonder again.

I want to see people Healed and made whole.

In this week leading up to Advent, I hope that you all will join me in attempting to bring a little more wonder, mystery, and glory back into the season.

Is there anyone in your life that can model the freedom and abandon of childhood? Does it make you comfortable or uncomfortable?

Why is this kind of freedom so scary at times?