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- Written by: Don Goulding
But Jesus called for the children, saying, “Let the little children come to me and do not try to stop them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:16-17)
I pedaled past a line of preschoolers out for a nature walk. They lit up at the sight of a funny man on a bicycle. One little guy leaned out of the line, beamed a smile, and chirped, “Hello there.” His dimpled hand polished off the salutation with a vigorous wave.
It was over before my sluggish brain could push a response past my mouth. A bubble of God’s love had swelled out of that young life and burst onto me. It was a reminder that there is no barrier between God’s heart and a child’s voice.
I want a faith like that tyke. I want to effervesce when the Spirit moves me, and live free from stalling doubts. Why do I hold back to assess the risk? Then the moment is lost.
“Hello there.” “Are you happy like I am?” “Isn’t God’s love great?” Why don’t I spread joy around like a child? Everyone needs a smile and a cheerful word. What can I hope to accomplish by my prudish reservation? The Lord can’t use me to evangelize the nations until I can love like a four-year-old.
Perhaps I could elect senility before it’s compelled by age. I could regress to a less jaded worldview. I’d be silly, laugh at my self-important ideas, and go on the lookout for chances to tickle people. After all, who’s mature if it’s not the soul free from worry? Regression would allow me to move past my constipated pride and sprinkle joy on others.
If I bubbled spontaneous love like that happy preschooler, then I’d know, without a doubt, that I was plugged into God.
Prayer: Father, make me childlike again.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
God created humankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them,
male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:27)
Near our church, at the end of the street, is a camellia garden. One perfect but completed bloom fell to the mulch below. Its circlet of snowy petals was tinted with rouge, out on the tips, just so. Wafer-thin fingers of vibrancy reached from the mud, and implored me, “I am still alive, and too fine a thing to be down here.”
What makes the delicate membranes, geometric construction, and blended hues of a flower attractive to us? Why is the emerald head of a mallard handsome, or the vibrations of a symphony intoxicating, or the rainbow’s arc of prism colors jaw-dropping? What causes the breathless pause when a poem completes its rhythm using precisely the right word? In other words, why was my fallen camellia enthralling, but the mulch around it common?
A wildly creative God made no two humans alike, so we will never fully agree on what is beautiful. Still, there are some commonalities to our definitions. We like patterned symmetry, but also the unique and rare. We want things pure and unflawed. We desire order, but with creativity. We crave the rhythm of crescendos and rests, along with the contrasts of thrills and tranquility.
God is all these. He alone is unchanging, unique, rare, pure, unflawed, ordered, creative, passionate, restful, thrilling, and serene. We, likewise, are patterned to love the things our Creator is.
“Latent genetic patterning” is the terminology used in zoology to describe the imprinted preferences of an animal. For instance, a billy goat does not care about the display of a peacock’s tail. Ah, but a peahen really goes in for that sort of thing. She is patterned by God for attraction to iridescent feathers. You and I are patterned to love what our heavenly Father is. And that, quite simply, is what beautiful is. God is beauty.
Prayer: Father, I’m glad I’m created to love your beauty.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Who is this coming up from the desert
like a column of smoke,
like a fragrant billow of myrrh and frankincense,
every kind of fragrant powder of the traveling merchants? (Song of Songs 3:6)
Life under Adam’s curse sometimes grows wearisome. There is much the Christian must attend to—honor God, love others, cling to grace, remain humble, maintain purity, practice discipline, study the word, yada, yada, yada. It’s like firing round after round through the barrel of a gun. Every shot must be on target, but each one leaves a microscopic residue inside the bore that leads to misfires. Eventually, the whole rifle must be dismantled and cleaned back to gleaming perfection.
What cleans my heart is passion. Not all the time, but occasionally my inner being needs to be taken apart and wiped down with ecstasy over Jesus. I have to experience him as more than an historical entity or future Savior. I need to freeze in my tracks and gasp at him thundering across the desert to my rescue, eyes inflamed with zeal, smiting enemies on every side, and smelling of Hawaiian ginger. This is my Jesus, the champion of my soul, and as fierce upon his enemies as he is joyful over my love.
It’s good, from time to time, to remember who I serve. There is a rhythm to life. At the bottom of each cycle, I must be cleaned and remade by the passion of my faith. It puts me back into service, ready to fire exacting shots of purity, discipline, and generosity.
A soldier serving out of obligatory fear is a draining threat to his battalion. A warrior driven by passion, and filled by the Spirit of God, is an unstoppable army unto himself. He is like his own passionate King.
Prayer: Jesus my King and my Savior, I am rapt in awe of you.