“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a little child to him and placed the child among them. And he said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.’ (Matthew 18.1-6)
[Note: For this inaugural set of Theology Thursday offerings, I’ve embarked on a series of thematic reflections about how children shape the character formation and spiritual life of the adults around them. This initial post will be the first of many invitations to consider how children are inescapably central to the disciple’s desire to ‘grow up.’]
At this point in his public ministry, Jesus had gathered a well-committed community of twelve disciples. Of course, there were more than just twelve—Luke records some 120 in Acts 1.15 in the days preceding Pentecost. Still, that group of disciples that history knows by name (Peter, James, John, Andrew, Nathanael, James the Younger, Judas, Thaddeus, Matthew, Philip, Simon, and Thomas) were apparently already operating as extensions of Jesus’ itinerant ministry, exercising their newfound power and authority by casting out demons and proclaiming the kingdom.
The adult disciples ask Jesus a question: “Who is the greatest?” A rumor has allegedly taken root among the initial team of Christ’s followers—some emerging belief that the way of Jesus would somehow provide a way toward ‘greatness.’ They weren’t entirely off. Indeed, greatness is (and was) good. Later, Jesus would instruct them that “whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.” (Matt 20.16) The way of Jesus was (and is) a way to greatness. The problem, of course, was that the definition of greatness lingering in the disciple’s minds was not only profoundly broken. It was the opposite of what Jesus sought to bring.
To expose this, Jesus calls a child to himself and “placed the child among them.” Notice that Jesus placed the child “among them”—that is, among the adult disciples. Not on the outside. Nor in another room. Or in another building. Not below them. Instead, he placed the child among them. Jesus wanted to teach the disciples something through this experience. And the lesson, it appears, is that a child bears something of the Kingdom of God that would remain inaccessible without the child actually being present. In fact, the disciple must become like a lowly child to become great in Jesus’ kingdom.
Children are meant to be among us.
Too often, however, they aren’t among us. I served as a pastor for nearly twenty years. I cannot recall once a child being present (other than for the lack of Sunday school options or because of my obsessive need for quiet and control) for a leadership, elder, or council meeting. As an academic, I have never seen a child address (or even be present at) a theological symposium or academic conference. For many of these spaces, in fact, placing the child in some other room is a way to minimize distractions and guard a proper order of things. I get it. Some of this may be necessary in our modern world. But can’t we also admit something is tragically lost when children are not “among” the world of adults?
Having children among us, I think, would radically change how we do the work of theology. Some have tried to flesh this out. The Child Theology Movement, for example, has sought to do this very thing by re-integrating children into the work of theology. Their conviction is simple: children can and should be included in theological dialogue. And when they are, it will reshape how we talk about God.1 While this may seem extreme or silly to some, it has nonetheless been shown that the presence of children has the power to be kinder, humbler, more generous, and more open to play and wonder. As a dad, I always talk differently when my son is in the room. Adults usually do. But it would alter most of my theological conversations (at least in how I speak) if my son were present for them.
Imagine how differently you’d talk to someone you disagreed with if your child were standing right next to you?
This would change the way we talk. The problem, of course, is that rather than receiving children as they are, we tend to ‘use’ them for our needs and wants. It was the famed psychologist Carl Jung who (alongside Freud) helped bring attention to ways the inner lives of adults can have a lasting impact on the child's life. The single greatest threat to a child, Jung would say, is the unlived life of the parent.2 Children not only pick up from adults what they say. Children—almost by some law of human nature—are often quietly oppressed by the unlived hopes, desires, and wants of the adult. Watch the parents in the stands at a sporting event for their children. We can so easily treat our children as proxies to help heal the dashed dreams of the grown-up. Too often, children become beings that we use for ourselves.
This is a distinctive mark of sin. In his The City of God, Augustine talks about how sinners usually see the world for what the world can provide for them. Creation isn’t seen for its inherent value. Creation is seen for the goods it gives humans. Sinners don’t see creation as “good” as God intended it. Sinners only see creation as good for something. Augustine goes on to say that we’d rather have bread and gold over mice and fleas because the former gives us what we desire. Augustine continues,
And so strong is this preference, that, had we the power, we would abolish the latter from nature altogether, whether in ignorance of the place they hold in nature, or, though we know it, sacrificing them to our convenience.3
His point is that sin causes us to love only that which has the ability to benefit us. Interestingly, when we look at the occasions in which Jesus is with children, we observe one interesting difference between the adults and the children. The children are never once recorded as asking Jesus a single question. Not once. Unlike the adults, apparently, the children don’t come to Jesus to get from Jesus. The child comes to be with Jesus. Jerome Berryman wisely points out, “They are not even interested in what Jesus is saying! What they are interested in is Jesus himself.”4
Children are harmed when they are used. One PK (“pastor’s kid”) friend described what he experienced every time his father preached in the church. As the child entered the sanctuary where his father had just expounded from the Scriptures, he could immediately sense by how the congregants looked at him that Dad had just included him in his sermon as an illustration. It was as if everyone knew something about him he’d not given permission for them to know. He wanted to be a child. But he’d become an illustration. Without, of course, having ever given his permission.
Too often, the adults of the world can treat children like the daughter of Herodias, who danced for Herod in the gospels. Herod loved the little girls’ dance. He was pleased. And promised to give the girl whatever she wanted because he was so pleased. Going to her mother—who was still seething that John the Baptist had denounced her marriage to Herod—the child was instructed to tell Herod that she wanted the head of John the Baptist as her mom had asked. (See Matt 14.1-12) Rather than guarding children as vulnerable beings, we treat them as props for our needs, wants, and ideologies. The become the bearers of our deepest and darkest hatreds.
I bet the children loved being with Jesus. One can only imagine: would the child have simply wanted to come and play with Jesus? He let them be among his people. And would Jesus have been one of the few adults they would ever experience who simply wanted to be with them? Even ‘call’ them? The adult wants to discuss and debate things with Jesus. The child, however, simply wants to be with Jesus. He doesn’t use them. He is with them. No wonder the disciples rebuke the child. In their minds, the work of the kingdom and bringing God’s rule and reign would have left no time for play. But their agenda was so different from the agenda of Jesus.
Our reading from Matthew invites us to consider the reality that Jesus simply wants the children to be “among us.” Why? Simply because. The lowliness, the humility, the difficulty, the challenge, and the frustration that they bring have a way of making us who we are and forging us into the character of Christ. We do not do this to ‘use’ the child. We receive the child because Jesus received the child. To that end, take an hour this week to simply be with a child. Let them dictate the terms of the time—so long as their decree is safe, healthy, and godly. And just be among the children. It will force you to crucify your control, your demands on time, and your malformed desires for what you think is most important.
In so doing, it would seem, Christ is doing a deep work among us.
Haddon Willmer, “What Is ‘Child Theology’?,” in Toddling to the Kingdom, ed. John Collier (London, UK: Child Theology Movement, 2009), 23–27.
The exact phrasing is: “nothing has a stronger influence psychologically...on their children than the unlived life of the parent.” Carl G. Jung, “The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individual,” in Freud and Psychoanalysis, vol. 4 (Routledge, 2015), 301–23.
City of God, 11.16. This quotation and connection to “utilitarianism” is forcefully made in Arthur Ledoux, “A Green Augustine: On Learning to Love Nature Well,” Theology and Science 3, no. 3 (2005): 332.
Jerome Berryman, Children and the Theologians: Clearing the Way for Grace (New York, NY: Church Publishing, Inc., 2009), 22–23. Italics mine.
I was so pleasantly surprised tonight to see you had made the move over to Substack A.J.! You are one my favorite theologians and one of the most influential (sorry but Willard takes the cake there) theologians. Your work as well as Preston Sprinkle have opened up my eyes recently to much wider doors and discussions.
So thankful to be able to get these Thursday devotionals.
My sister and I were just discussing the reasons people name for deciding whether or not to have children. What I found interesting is that lately -- deliberately childless couples have been described as selfish, but the arguments I hear for having children are often quite selfish as well. You are quite correct in your point about parents often using their children as proxies. In a world where the most innocent of us are the most exploited, it's all the more important to check our hearts, our motives, and especially our actions in relation to ALL those around us, but especially the vulnerable. Thanks for making me think!