Such as these…

My favorite part of worship yesterday was communion. Specifically the communion hymn: “Jesus Loves Me.” I couldn’t sing myself, since I was serving communion, but to watch everyone’s faces as they sang this song was wonderful. There were tears in more than a couple of eyes. Our window for the week was Jesus blessing the children. These familiar songs and stories can make us feel very nostalgic–for a lot of us, they are probably some of the first things we learned in church. Nostalgia’s not a bad thing, but in my sermon, I tried to push past it a little to dive deeper into what’s happening in the gospel. Let me know what you think!

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

When I was in elementary school, my parents took my brother and me to Hershey Park one summer. And at Hershey Park, at least when we went, the way they measured you for rides is you stood next to these giant candy bars and find which candy bar you’re the same height as. My brother, who is only a year older than me, he was the tallest one—I think a Cookies and Cream bar. Being Cookies and Cream meant that he could go on any ride he wanted to. Now, I’ve always been a little height challenged, and I think I was like a York Peppermint Patty, or something equally embarrassing. This meant that I could not go on all the rides.

This had happened to me before: at Disney World, the boardwalk, even my grandmother wouldn’t let me sit in the front seat of her car when my brother could. Of course, all those things were about safety; the restrictions were there for good reasons. But it didn’t feel that way at the time. It felt so disappointing to not be able to do these things. I couldn’t wait to get bigger, because getting bigger meant being more important. There would be no more kids’ tables, or kids’ meals, no more restrictions on what activities I could and couldn’t do. It seemed like I would matter more when I was grown up.

And I felt that way in a society that values children. In a family where my parents listened to me and cared about my feelings. Jesus’ time wasn’t like that. We hear this story of Jesus welcoming children, and it’s not surprising to us at all. We’ve heard it a lot of times, for sure, but it also fits well with what we know about Jesus. We’ve known that Jesus loves children ever since we learned the song “Jesus Loves Me.” What surprises us is the disciples’ behavior. Why would they be so rude, so mean as to send the children away?

But the people of Jesus’ time would have had the opposite reaction. The disciples’ actions would have made perfect sense, and Jesus’ response would have seemed ridiculous. Children weren’t important then. They were needed, of course, to help with work, to someday take care of their parents, and to inherit. But until that time came, the children themselves weren’t very useful. And, because of high infant mortality rates, they certainly weren’t valuable until they had grown up some.

It’s not surprising the disciples try to send them away. To be seen spending time on children isn’t going to help Jesus’ reputation any. They have nothing to offer Jesus or his followers. The disciples would rather Jesus spend him time advancing their mission, making inroads with the right people. The people who could make a difference. The people who matter.

But of course, that is exactly what Jesus is doing. Spending his time with people who matter. Shocking everyone, he says that these children have a place of honor in God’s kingdom. In fact, the kingdom belongs to them! Instead of the children wishing to be more like the grown-up disciples, the disciples ought to wish to be more like the children. Because this is who God’s kingdom is for.

Society said that children aren’t important, or aren’t important yet, and Jesus said they are an example to all of us right now. They are immensely important to God. It’s not just children; Jesus valued those that his society said didn’t matter: children, women, the sick, the imprisoned, the strangers. These are the people who will find their place in the kingdom of God. God is not experienced in power, but in weakness. Entering God’s kingdom is not a way to become first or great, but it’s a way to identify with the least and most needy.

Who is that in our society? In Jesus’ time, it was children, widows, and orphans. Who is it that our culture says doesn’t matter? Who do we overlook? Or who doesn’t have power? Still today, children are vulnerable, dependent on others. Those without jobs or homes. Those who are strangers in our country, immigrants and refugees. Those who are sick, and unable to find or afford care. Those who are differently-abled. It is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. To those that we look past or look away from. To those that sometimes, driven by indifference or hatred, we wish would go away.

This story tells us about the radical Kingdom of God, as it is intended to be lived here on earth, as well as in heaven. As Jesus welcomes children to him and declares that the kingdom belongs to them, we learn what this kingdom is like, who it’s for, and what its values are.

It’s a kingdom that values vulnerability instead of strength, mercy instead of power. In God’s kingdom, there is a place for everyone, no matter how insignificant they might be to the rest of the world. This is the kingdom that Jesus came to inaugurate. This is the kingdom that we strive towards.

A place where all are welcomed, and valued, and encouraged. Where none are turned away because they aren’t good enough, or important enough, or from the right place. God’s kingdom is a place where we are able to be our honest selves: vulnerable, needy, broken. We do not have to pretend to be strong if we’re not right now. We do not have to pretend to be happy if we’re not right now. We do not have to pretend we have it all together, if we don’t right now.

This is the kingdom that we are members of. This is the kingdom that we get to be part of building, right here, in this space. The kingdom where all are welcomed. Where you are welcomed, just as you are. And where we are invited to build community centered around the values of God’s kingdom.

Jesus welcomed the children and blessed them. We hear those words and think: how nice and kind Jesus was. How loving. It’s true. But it was a radical love. A love that broke rules and expectations in order to usher in God’s kingdom.

Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Jesus loves us, it is true. Let us love like Jesus does. Let our love shock and surprise people. Let our love bring down barriers until all are welcomed and valued. For it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs. Amen.

One thought on “Such as these…

  1. Another great sermon–I’m sorry I missed hearing it in person. However, it’s so comforting to hear how Jesus valued the weak, the vulnerable, and those who weren’t considered important in the eyes of society, and to be reassured that he still does today. I also appreciated the reminder that we are to emulate Jesus and carry his message of unconditional love into the world, especially in our treatment of children.


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