One of the most incredible mysteries of Christmas is that our Redeemer, the Creator of the Universe, came to us an infant, a helpless child. Humility is God's mode of operation. He tends to speak to us in stillness and quiet. He likes to use the meek, the poor and the powerless to accomplish His will.
In my own life, God often speaks through my children. Most parents and teachers have experienced this. We know children can teach us a thing or two. Let me share three of my experiences. They all focus on our crucified Lord (which I'm certain is not a coincidence).
Years ago, as I was picking up a kindergartener from school, I had a religious catalog sitting on the car seat. When my son jumped inside, he immediately saw the crucifix on the catalog's cover and lamented, "Poor Jesus."
His words stabbed into my heart. How often had I looked at a crucifix and seen nothing, other than a religious decoration? Would I have been able to look at an image of any of my loved ones being tortured and be devoid of emotion? My heart had become so calloused. Years of exposure to religous images made them seem ordinary, commonplace. My kindergartener showed me that I had lost the eyes and heart of a child, which readily recognize the eternal and real.
On another occasion, during Lent, our family was watching a G-rated movie about Christ's Passion. A different son, who also was very young at the time, approached me, visibly distressed. He was stunned. How could someone betray Jesus with a kiss?
Somehow, that detail never got my full attention. But again, a child's words struck my heart, exposing its hardness after years of hearing the Passion story. My son made me ponder how much Judas' betrayal, and the manner in which it was delivered, must have hurt Jesus. I, too, consider myself Jesus' friend. And I also betray Him.
The third incident happened when I was getting ready to leave home and I draped a crucifix pendant around my neck. Another son, 3 or 4 years old at the time, noticed the crucifix at first glance. He drew close to examine it. "That's beautiful," he said. And he asked to kiss the crucifix (a nice devotion he has developed). "You should always wear a cross, Mom," he said.
"Yes, I should," I answered, knowing immediately Whose voice I was hearing. I recognized God's voice because He had been hinting about that subject for a while. But suddenly, through the words of a preschooler, His will became clearer: I should always bear the image of my crucified Lord. And not just with jewelry.
Inspired by this Year of Faith we will be posting columns like this about exploring and/or deepening our faith. Watch for it on Thursdays.
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