Poor Children
by R.C. Sproul Jr.

One of the pitfalls that comes with the wise habit of memorizing Scripture is that we tend to lose the context. We carry about the snippets, and toss aside the framework. As I planned this issue, for instance, I knew I wanted to look at Jesus' argument that no one will enter the kingdom without first becoming as a child. Like a lot of people, I tend to think that Jesus, as He walked about, was mentally in His own little world, thinking on deep thoughts, and every now and again He'd let a crumb drop behind Him for the disciples to pick up. Truth be told, Jesus was something of a reactionary, often saying what He said in response to what He heard and saw. And so it is here.

Jesus' call to child-like qualities comes right in the face of the decidedly grown-up sin of the disciples. There are, of course, plenty of sins of childishness, areas of weakness that we tend to put behind us as we grow older. But there are likewise new sins that we learn as we mature. Outside the grace of God we move from sin to sin. Children are certainly likely to force their way to the front of the line when cookies an doughnuts are being handed out. Waiting for the other Guy. Patience is a learned behavior, and doesn't come standard with brand-new models. Or to put it another way, it doesn't grow on trees, but must be cultivated on vines. But children, while quick to clamor for sweets, aren't apt to clamor for honor. Adults, on the other hand, can buy candy at will. There is no need to clamor for it. We have waistlines to worry about. So we instead crave the good stuff, without a care about the ballooning size of our heads. We want others to think more highly of ourselves. Such a spirit, we must learn to see, is a millstone around our necks.

Imagine, for a moment, that you were this unnamed child that appears here in the text. How easy it is to forget, as Jesus drops a wisdom bomb, that there is an actual child in the scene. Jesus calls the child, and the child did come. That tells us something right away. The spirit we are called to is a spirit of obedience. Jesus calls us, and we must come. Remember that potential disciple with all the grown-up responsibilities, the one who asked permission to first bury his father. This was the context wherein Jesus uttered His sage words, "Let the dead bury the dead." Child-like father doesn't have anything to get in the way. No child ever had to check his Daytimer to see if he had time to obey.

Next we are told that the child was set in the midst of them. Now you have obeyed Jesus, and He, and twelve other men are looking at you. But you lack that which will always lead you astray, self-consciousness. You are at ease, because you aren't worried about what others are thinking about you. You are free. Reputation, standing, and dignity mean as little to you at the beginning of your life as they will at the end of your life.

What is it that at the same time equips a child for these seemingly antagonistic virtues? How can they at the same time be eager to obey, and indifferent to the slings and arrows of the opinions of others? Children are not innocent as such. They are as depraved as the next person. What sets them apart from other sinners, however, is that they are dependent. They obey because they must. Those who command them have the power of life an death over them. And they are unconcerned about reputation likewise because they are dependent. They of necessity have nothing to brag about, because they can't even provide their own bread.

This same tie, between obedience and indifference to the opinions to others, may be that which ties together the twin commands of Christ. It isn't enough, after all, to simply be a child. Jesus isn't here teaching justification by youth. Not only must we be as a child, but we must likewise be converted.

Much of the hubbub in Reformed circles of late has been on this very question. Is conversion necessary? Jesus says it is. But the we must define our terms. Some seem to define conversion so tightly that it takes a systematic theologian to make it in. These good folks believe a person must be equipped to parse the nuances of the Council of Trent, and properly place the appropriate anathemas to enter the kingdom. Others, on the other hand, seem to imply that baptism and the tip of the hat to Jesus will suffice. Both are wrong. Conversion and childhood go hand in hand, not because children are ignorant, and know nothing, but because children are indigent, and know it quite well. We are saved, our sins are covered, not when we expound the doctrine of justification by faith alone, but when we exercise faith alone, when we trust in the finished work of Christ alone, when we recognize that we are as helpless and weak as children, and need our heavenly Father to make everything right.

Conversion, however, is not the end. We are to mature in our faith, to grow in grace, which means in turn that we are to become more and more child-like in our faith. We are to put to death our pretension of earning anything. We are to put to death our pensions of power and significance. We are to stop guarding our dignity, and start craving the innocence to which we are called. We are to aspire to greatness, by aspiring to smallness. For whoever humbles himself as a little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.