Mark 10:13-16
And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them. (ESV)
As the storms blew into Chattanooga this past Sunday night, we, like many of you, gathered up our three young kids from upstairs and brought them down to our bed. As the winds gained speed and the tornadoes approached our city, we carried them downstairs and huddled together on our cold basement floor. In their confusion, exhaustion, and fear, our children just started talking:
Mommy, I’m really scared.
Daddy, that storm sounds really big.
We should not be having to do this with the coronavirus too.
Children have no pretense. In the midst of the storm, they do not act like they are strong or unafraid. They do not hesitate to run into their parents’ room or jump into their arms. They show no shame in being who they are—weak, needy, dependent, and afraid.
The scene in this passage calls us to come to our Savior as little children. In fact, it shows us that childlikeness is the only way to come.
In this scene, parents are bringing their children to Jesus that he might touch them. Their exact intentions are ambiguous, but we do know that the bringing children to Jesus was a somewhat scandalous act. In the ancient world, children were not esteemed or valued in the same way they are in our culture. The disciples rebuked these desperate parents, but they are merely reacting according to culture and to custom. In their assumption, Jesus did not have time for children. No time for the needy ones, the weak ones, the dependent ones. No time for the ones who had nothing to offer.
The disciples’ response surprises us, but it’s Jesus’ response that would have surprised the crowds. He was angry, indignant that his disciples would turn these children away. He calls the children to come. He commands his disciples not to stand in their way. He tells everyone watching that if you do not come to the King as little children you cannot enter the Kingdom at all.
What does it mean to enter the Kingdom like a child? It means to come to the King as one who knows their need. One scholar wrote it this way,
It is not their virtue, but their helplessness that is stressed. In this story children are not blessed for their virtues, but for what they lack: they come only as they are-small, powerless, without sophistication, as the over-looked and dispossessed of society… A little child has nothing to bring, and whatever a child receives, he or she receives by grace on the basis of sheer neediness rather than by any merit inherent in him-or herself. Little children are paradigmatic disciples, for only empty hands can be filled.[1]
I’ve spent so much of my life trying not to be childlike like this—helpless, small, powerless, needy, empty-handed. But have these last five weeks not shown us that this is exactly what we already are? The security we put in health and money and work and home has been shattered. The worth we find in busyness and strength and performance is gone. In my impatience with my children and my anxiety in all things, I am exposed again and again for what I actually am.
But the beauty of this passage is that the ones who are weak are the ones whom Jesus loves. The ones who have nothing to offer are the ones in whom he delights. The needy, the broken, the vulnerable, these are the ones to whom the Savior gives his time, his attention, and his embrace. The empty-handed are the ones to whom he gives the keys to the Kingdom. I’ve always loved the way Jesus phrases it when he is talking to his disciples on the hillside about anxiousness:
Fear not, little flock, for it is the Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. (Luke 12:32, ESV)
We do not have to be afraid of what we have lost or what we will. We do not have to be afraid of what has been or will be exposed in us. We do not have to fear being made again like children, for our Father delights to give us what we lack. He delights to meet our needs. He delights to give us the Kingdom. He delights to give us himself.
In these days that are so trying and so long and so hard, may we press into what the Lord is doing in us. May we let go of the pretense we have held so tightly to and hid so effectively behind. May we not be ashamed of our weakness and our need. But may it propel us to come to our Savior, and to come confidently and to come like children.
One of my favorite hymns has long been Come Ye Sinners. May we meditate on its words and message this morning, and may we heed the exhortation of our Savior within, simply to come!
Come, ye sinners, poor and wretched, weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you, full of pity joined with pow’r
he is able; he is able, he is able,
he is willing; doubt no more; he is willing; doubt no more.
Come ye needy, come and welcome, God’s free bounty glorify;
true belief and true repentance, ev’ry grace that brings you nigh,
without money, without money, without money,
come to Jesus Christ and buy; come to Jesus Christ and buy.
Come, ye weary, heavy laden, bruised and broken by the fall;
if you tarry ‘til you’re better, you will never come at all:
not the righteous, not the righteous, not the righteous—
sinners Jesus came to call; sinners Jesus came to call.
Let not conscience make you linger. Nor of fitness fondly dream;
all the fitness he requireth is to feel your need of him;
this he gives you, this he gives you, this he gives you.
’tis the Spirit’s rising beam; ’tis the Spirit’s rising beam.
Lo! th’incarnate God, ascended, pleads the merit of his blood
venture on him, venture wholly, let no other trust intrude;
none but Jesus, none but Jesus, none but Jesus
can do helpless sinners good, can do helpless sinners good.
(Joseph Hart, 1759)
[1] James Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark, p. 307.