Being a Child


“Don’t leave me behind!”

“Will you play with me?”

“What are you doing? I come too.”

“I hold your hand.”

The last few days were filled with many of these sayings, some variations, some indicated with grunts. All communicating the same thing: I was looked to as someone to depend on and accepted by my 4 year old nephew. And to have that role is a big deal in his eyes.

As I walked with him on our hike today, I  couldn’t help but notice he was always checking where I was. If I wasn’t close by, he made sure he was where I was. If I kept walking, he caught up. If he was scared, he made sure I held him.

The beauty of the rocks, the gorge, the waterfalls paled in comparison to the picture God was showing me yet once again through one of His little ones. And this particular picture ran as deep as the gorge.

See, I’ve been accused many times of being independent. That I take care of myself, go on adventures, ambitious, don’t allow help. While there may be some truth in that (I struggle to ask for help, but for different reasons than one might think), to the core I feel just as helpless, scared, vulnerable as a child. I put up a facade because of shame of feeling so childlike, but the truth is that I am a child.

But I am a child of a loving, kind, faithful, caring Father.

I have no shame in helping my nephew, or any child, when he is scared or helpless. I love it because I love him, and he’s not even my child! How much more does my Father delight that I come to Him. I can reach up–helpless, scared, vulnerable, alone, dependent–and He’s right there. Always there. Never leaving.

A friend reminded me recently that “[God] loves you more than his angels or all of creation. He hasn’t promised to never leave them, hasn’t set his love on them, and hasn’t pursued them. He has you.”

I am a child. And I have a faithful Father.

Thoughts inspired by this post:


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