Your Inner-Child is the Key to Heaven
On Tuesday night, it was my turn to read to my son. This was not a perk I had anticipated 10 years ago, when he was just a squirmy pink football that pooped and cried. I had not thought far enough ahead to realize his reading level would advance to the point where I was as interested in the bedtime story as he was. We are reading the Land of Stories series, written by Chris Colfer, who is also known for his role in the hit TV series Glee.
The story follows two children who find themselves magically transported to the fairy tale world, to interact with Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks, and Rumpelstiltskin outside of their familiar plot lines. I read aloud to him, and I have voices for each of the characters, most of them with proper English accents…because I guess Cinderella and Rumpelstiltskin would sound like that.
My son has struggled with reading, and my partner and I have taken years off our lives worrying about that fact. But over the last year he has rocketed up to near age appropriate reading level, and his parents are savoring the feeling of relief. So I was thrilled when, in the middle of me reading to him on Tuesday night, he interrupted me reading dialogue in the voice of Red Riding Hood with his own rendition.
The voice was creaky, high-pitched, and 100% silly. The book fell to my chest and we laughed so hard we had a hard time catching our breath. When we composed ourselves I attempted to start reading again, but he is smart enough to know when a good comedy routine has been stumbled upon. What unfolded was 30 minutes of pure, bed-time looniness, attempting to finish a sentence without snorting.
And in the middle of it a voice arrived in my head that said, “your son is going to remember this moment for a long time, be here with him fully.” And all of a sudden I dropped any sense of responsibility to be the hard-working father with the weight of financial terror, and the anxiety of “what-if’s” completely to the floor.
And in a flash my brain pictured a Palestinian man sitting on the ground, gently waving his hand to me to come closer to him., Jesus said to someone behind me “Let him come to me, no, really it is okay, let him come to me. Mark, I am talking to you, you are safe, you can come sit right here. It is you, little Mark, that the kingdom of heaven belong to.”
I was in Matthew 19, “Jesus said, “Let the children come to me, and do not stop them, for it is such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”
We progressive Christians can be guilty of digging up metaphor to the point of ignoring the simplicity of something. I might do this here, because of course Jesus was likely talking to real live children. But something jumps out to me in this passage. The phrase “it is such as these…” seems to be an open invitation for comparison. People LIKE THIS they have something special. And people like this might be in 36 year old bodies, although it seems to get harder to be like that as our tired and calloused bodies grind and clench themselves through the rigors of adult life.
But what if Jesus wasn’t just talking to the children hidden behind the restrictive arms of adults in the crowd, but to the shy and hidden child within us?
On Tuesday night, when I giggled with my son on his bedroom floor, I accepted Jesus’ invitation to let the 11 year old boy, who missed the opportunity to have his dad read to him on his bedroom floor, to come out. In this moment, I knew, without needing to check whether or not I was good enough, that I belonged in the kingdom of Love. I belonged in this sacred place, forget the kingdom language all together, I belonged in this sacred place, of safety, of comfort, of playfulness.
Right now, as I write this on a Wednesday, thinking about talking to all of you today, I am thinking about how these words are floating out of my mouth and into your ears and into your stories. And my eyes are filling with tears because I know there are people here who, as a child, have been hurt. Who have been abandoned. Who have been ignored. I am speaking to my own inner-child, who watched his family crumble in an instant, and who thought the path to survival and happiness was buckling down and being the responsible person. Playfulness was for children with the luxury of a stable household.
And I know and I’m worried that this message may not be one of comfort for some of us, and I feel so angry and sad that this is true. Because none of us have deserved the trauma of our childhoods. Creating the environment to invite our inner-child to healing and playfulness, that is work for each of us as individuals, on our own time, on our own terms, with or without certain people involved.
In sharing my experience with my son, another experience comes to mind. Many of you know that I do photography as a hobby and a side-gig. Recently I photographed the Boswell family. Matt Boswell is the pastor at Camas Friends Church, and our families have been connected for as long as they’ve been here. During my photo session with them, Jo, Matt’s partner, and mama to three amazing children, joined her children in their playfulness during the photo shoot. Here are some of the images
Jo entered into the process of taking family pictures, with her children, in this spirit of playfulness, and I was there to capture the magic of it.
Chelan Harkin
This week my friend Mica sent me a book of poetry that she has discovered and loves. As I was checking it out, wouldn’t you know it, I came across a poem that seemed to be made for this message. It is from Chelan Harkin. A fair warning, there is a four-letter word in here, but I think it might be the least offensive of them all. The title of the poem gives it away
Your Own Damn Joy
The price of admission
into heaven
is your own damn joy.
Please stop denying yourself this
and please stop telling yourself
you’ll only (maybe) get there when you die —
go there now!
What kind of damn fool
puts off heaven?
Child, it lives in the center of your heart
that endless meadow of happiness and praise.
The world needs you
to go there now
to do your part in turning it
into a paradise.
Here are some queries for your consideration:
When you imagine Jesus calling our your inner-child, what do you think is being invited to emerge?
Spirituality often expresses itself with such a serious tone. How can playfulness be a part of your spirituality?