If I spent this post ranting about all of the things that are frustrating me, going on about things I hate, and using my time and words to shake you to your core: then I’d be just like you.
You would hop onto your social media today, out of habit, out of a desire to catch up with old friends, whatever it may be, and you’d see yet another post about somebody’s staunch opinion about gay marriage, abortion, gun control, immigration, gas prices, or which type of cheese to buy. I’d post bold yet hateful and hurtful things supporting my opinion, and you’d either get puffed up in agreement or angry at me and wish I’d move to a secluded island.
I could talk about how as humans, we are throwing away the massive amount of untapped potential we have to do good by wasting it on hating each other. I could talk about how no matter how many voices of good cry out, there is always somebody out there who has something nasty to say. I could talk about how we seem to have slid into this fad where we are redefining what is right and what is wrong, when we have absolutely no authority to do so. I would be on the issuing end of horrible negativity and gross sin.You would be me. And I would be just like you.
Yesterday in church, my 3 year old nephew walked over to me, climbed up on my lap and whispered, “Hey guess what, Jordan? I like you.” There I sat, in church, learning more about God, and there on my lap sat somebody infinitely more wise than myself. Somebody who, at 3 years old, knows God. I hugged him tight against me and kissed his cheek, telling him that I liked him, too.
After the meeting, I watched him take the hand of his older brother and walk to his Sunday School class, a brilliant smile on his innocent face. And I couldn’t help but think, “Behold, it came to pass on the morrow that the multitude gathered themselves together, and they both saw and heard these children; yea, even babes did open their mouths and utter marvelous things.”
None of the other things in my life that I am struggling with or I wonder about mattered in that moment. Because, for just a moment, life was incredibly simple. There was no ifs, ands, or buts. There was no great and marvelous mystery solved or unsolved. No changing of right and wrong. It was just the love of a child in a church building on Sunday.