My friend Josh and his daughter Samantha, Summer 2020
*I wrote this blog mid “covid summer.” I hope it brings a form of encouragement from perspective on this season…
I was hammocking on a Friday afternoon with one of my best friends—Mike. We were out on the Kirkland waterfront on this 70-degree Seattle day. As we were lying in our double stacked hammocks and talking, a little kid came by with all his family. You know those kids who are just as talkative and loud as the day is long? Those kids who don’t care about any form of social norm? Yeah, it was one of those kids. Let’s just call them curious. This was a curious kid.
I could hear him yards away. One of those kids who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was pointing out everything he saw to his mom. “Mom, look at the ducks! Mom, look at the lake! Mom, look at the trees!” All I could think was “This poor mother. She’s been locked up in quarantine for weeks. It’s probably the first day that’s been sunny enough for her to get outside and enjoy the weather and now her kid won’t be quiet.”
The curious kid continued. “Mom, why are the ducks swimming? Mom, why are those people in the hammocks? Mom, why are we walking this way?”
Later that day I was on a walk with another one of my best friends. His name is Josh. Josh has a beautiful two year old girl named Samantha who we call Sammy. Any time Josh and I are together I ask him what Sammy’s new thing is. One of Sammy’s things has been “driving.” This little two year old will get into the driver seat (with the car off of course) and have daddy sit in the passenger seat. Then she will sit there and take daddy for a drive. The car isn’t going anywhere yet they don’t need it to in order to have a good time.
Later that week Josh and Sammy went to the park. When they got to the park Sammy spent the good part of an hour hitting a tree with a stick and that’s all she wanted to do. She really enjoyed the tree. She didn’t need anything else. Those experiences with kids got me thinking about curiosity and wonder.
I’ve been going on one or two walks a day lately, and as I’ve walked similar paths, I’ve started to notice little things I hadn’t before; things I especially didn’t notice when I drove these same roads. The colors of flowers have stood out, views of the city that I didn’t notice before all of a sudden seem to have appeared, and architecture of local homes has captured my attention. In some ways I feel like a kid again, and I miss it. I miss the joy in the little things. I miss not needing to always be entertained. I miss seeing colors and smelling scents and seeing scenery. I miss how curiously wonderful life can be.
I assume because you’re reading this blog you’re probably somewhat of an adult. Do you know one thing that sucks about most of us as adults? We lose curiosity and wonder. When did that happen? How did it go so fast? When did life become less wonderful?
As I thought about those two kids that I observed and what made them curious, I began to think about what they had in common. The two had never met, and will probably never meet. Their parents are of different ethnicities and they likely belong to different religions and socioeconomic classes. There is so much difference between them, so what is similar about these kids that makes them who they are? It dawned on me. Both of these kids were with their parents.
They were both around a person who made them feel safe. The kids weren’t worried about what time they had to be at their next appointment, they weren’t thinking about what they were going to make for dinner, they weren’t concerned with the budget for their upcoming trip. Kids don’t even really think about those things. Kids know that everything in their world is taken care of. Kids know that they are safe.
I think we lose our curiosity and wonder as adults because we become so focused on survival. One of the major questions looming in the back of each of our minds each moment of the day is “Am I safe?”. Maybe we aren’t asking in those exact words, but the question hiding behind a lot of our questions is one of safety.
“Will I have enough money to pay for (fill in the blank)?” is really asking “Am I financially safe?”.
“Will this relationship work out?” is really asking “Am I relationally safe?”.
“Will my career pan out the way I want it to?” is really asking “Am I vocationally safe?”.
“Will I finally like myself when my body looks the way I want?” is really asking “Am I socially safe?”.
“Does God still love me even after I (fill in the blank)?” is really asking “Am I spiritually safe?”.
So many of our questions, concerns, and cautions, so many of our thoughts and worries are really about our safety. That’s just talking about the average person, then top on the trauma, pain, and regret that shapes so many of our lives. I think a great deal of our lives is spent searching for safety.
As we grow old and have more experiences, we begin to realize that the world may not be as safe as our parents had us first believe. We start to view so much of life as a threat to the life we are just trying to protect, and we don’t see life like we did as kids. We actually call that childlike view of life naive, but maybe we are the naive ones. Maybe kids have something that we still need. Maybe they know something, and we need to do some unlearning.
The Apostle Paul wrote to followers of Jesus going through some pretty hard times. He pastored people whose lives were constantly in danger, and he wrote to people who know what it’s like to wonder “Am I safe?”. He said,
Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:
Because of you
we are being put to death all day long;
we are counted as sheep to be slaughtered.
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (CSB, Romans 8.35-39)
Paul pastored people worried about their safety not by diminishing the threat. He doesn’t say “The threat isn’t real,” or “Don’t worry about a thing,” or “It’s not as bad as it looks.” He also doesn’t become annoyingly optimistic. He doesn’t say, “Every bad thing is really a good thing in disguise,” or “It could always be worse,” or “The best is yet to come.”
Paul says that things are bad, and they are really bad. He looks at all the things that makes life unsafe, names them for what they are, and then he has the audacity to say that followers of Jesus can face these threats head-on. Why? Because God loves us. How is love going to keep me safe? What’s love got to do with it? That sounds gushy and almost unhelpful. Let me say it like this; Paul says that followers of Jesus can face any threat because God’s love is not threatened.
Remember - God’s love is not just an emotional disposition toward people. Paul is not saying that he can face any threat because God likes His people or feels good about His people or is kind towards His people or is romantic towards His people. Rather, Paul is saying that followers of Jesus can face any threat because God’s love, His actions for the wellbeing of people, is not threatened.
Let me summarize. Most things in our life are threatened each day. If Covid has revealed anything, it’s that our life and our way of life is not as safe or secure as we may have thought. Most things in our life can be taken away, they can be lost, and they can die. But God’s love is not threatened, God’s posture towards His people is not threatened, and God’s activity for His people is not threatened. Because of this, Paul can live securely even though He is not always living safely. In other words, Paul realizes that no matter how unsafe life is, He’s ultimately safe with Jesus and in Jesus.
Paul gets what kids get and what we need to get: we are ultimately safe.
Is it naive? Maybe. But maybe it’s true. I’m curious to find out of if that sort of life—a childlike life of knowing that I’m ultimately safe—is as wonderful as it seems.
