We are yet another week into our month in Kathmandu, Nepal and sadly enough, we will only be here for eight more days. I have spent this past week teaching 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade math as well as daily one-hour Bible lessons before school starts. As tiring as children can be, there is something deeply refreshing about them as well. I absolutely love these children! Though our days start at 6:15 (the children wake up at 5:00AM!) and often don't end until past 4:00pm, I can honestly say that the spiritual rest that the children give me far outweighs the physical and mental fatigue they bring. They bring me rest because they represent a picture of humanity that, though still sinful from birth (Psalm 51:5), has not yet experienced many additional years of sinful influences. This should't be surprising to me, as Jesus himself, the bringer of rest, commands us to have faith like children. "Truly, I say to you," Jesus tells his disciples in Matthew 18:3, "unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."
The idea that we have a lot to learn from children is not a novel one. Granted, there are more ways than I can count in which children are not wiser than adults, but there are still some easily identifiable ways where we, as adults, would almost unilaterally agree that children put us to shame– their sense of wonderment and their ability to forgive being two common examples. Honestly, though, I'm bored of hearing about how much we can learn from children. It's one of those topics (especially on missionary's blogs) that gets beaten into the ground until it is no longer special or unique. With that being said, what I want to know is what we will do with the idea that we have a lot to learn from children.
It seems as if we live in a day and age where we like to ponder, but we don't like to move past pondering. We are told that "the journey is everything" and the destination, by comparison, is not as important. Is this idolatry of the journey (like many cliche, worldly ideas) really Biblical, though? God certainly used Israel's journey through the wilderness as an opportunity to teach them and grow them, but He was also preparing them for a very real lifestyle (worship) in a very real destination (The Promised Land), a permanent land where there would be no journeying.
Similarly, as a Christian, I understand that the permanence of eternal worship in the next life will more than swallow up any notion of "journey for journey's sake" that may remain in my mind. Of course, The World Race itself is in every way a journey, but I view it as a journey to a destination: namely, a further sanctified Christian life. Sanctification is a lifelong process, but the recognition of this fact should not result in the idolatry of "journey for journey's sake."
What does this all have to do with children and what they can teach us? It means that I need to make a conscious effort not to let what I learn from these children merely be cute appreciations of life or musings of a spiritual journey. They are those indeed but not those alone. I want to take those aspects that I admire most about the raw faith and raw love of the children and actually apply them to my adult life– as awkward and unpopular as it might be and as much as it may seem to go against the cultural grain. I always find it funny that when teachers or professors teach us things, it is understood that we should apply them and integrate them into our daily lives, but when children teach us things, we typically just reminisce and talk about "how it would be great to be like that." God, let these children's examples create more than mere feelings of wistful reminiscence…let them prompt action!
I desire to be like little Phul Maya, who isn't afraid to get her feet muddy. I desire to be like Sandip, my 5th grade student, who asks for extra homework problems. I desire to be like my 2nd grade student, Laxmi, whose mind is still preoccupied with writing and illustrating her own fairy tales. I desire to be like Ahbisek, who hunts for Jesus until he finds Him.
