Like a Little Child

Photo credit: "Playing Magic" by Quinn Dombrowski licensed under Creative Commons https://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/48460224197/sizes/l/

I’ve recently begun working with small children again, ages four and five. And it’s really hard, because they know everything already.

“I know those letters. We did that,” pouts little Hailey. Her brother insists he knows how to use scissors safely. He wobbles on his knees on the edge of the chair, scissors in hand. Hailey can’t tell me what sound the letter “d” makes, but, she says, she knows that letter.

My textbook tells me, rather drily, that “Piaget described four characteristics of thinking in early childhood, all of which make logic difficult” (Kathleen Stassen Berger, The Developing Person Through the Life Span, 2008). I keep talking to my little students as if they are reasonable, logical people. But they aren’t. And, according to Piaget, they can’t be. When I show them they’re wrong, they argue or just look embarrassed.

But that’s not why I correct them. I do it because I want them to really know their letters. I want them to read. I want them to not get hurt.

How much easier it would be for me if Hailey were to say, “We did that once, but I don’t remember it. Would you go over it with me again?” How much better if Zach said, “Can you explain why you think it’s important for me to sit with my buttocks squarely on the chair?” What if he were to respond to my explanation by saying, “That makes sense, and I will endeavor to adhere to your safety standards.”

But their brains aren't ready for that yet.

I’ve started thinking that people are like that spiritually. We think we know. But maturity takes time and experience, and many iterations of the same lesson. In my life, God teaches me something, then takes a break from that subject, only to take it up later in greater depth, again and again, taking it closer to the bone each time.

Jesus spent a lot of time showing the religious leaders of His day that they didn’t know all they thought they knew. He seemed to make more progress with people who already knew they didn’t know.

The older I get, the poorer my education and experience seem in the face of the overwhelming complexities of the world. But my “spiritual brain” has become mature enough to grasp this truth, and now it seems easier, somehow, just to admit it up front and simply say, “Help me, Jesus.” The challenges get bigger, and I get smaller. But, Jesus just keeps coming through. Unexpectedly, the more spiritually mature I become, the more dependent I am.