When Jesus put the child on his knee, he acted out a parable. “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me.” At first this incident appears simple, easy to understand. Don’t we all know how to receive a little child? Assuming we know all about it, we slide over “in my name” and “receives me.” We assume we know how to be gentle, caring, attentive and careful. Our voices even change, “Well, and how are we today?” Such treatment comes without thought and is filled with good will. Expansive and condescending, we know we are in control.

If we are to learn from the Scripture, we must react to what Jesus said. “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me.” His words prevent our being cavalier. In this simple event and words Jesus leads us to see things in a new way. Certainly we have to be on our toes. Though we know we have nothing to fear (after all, he loves us and will forgive us seventy times seven) still, we have much to learn. So, with Jesus in mind, we are careful to be gentler and kinder, knowing that no matter what, he is as gentle and kind to us -- and more so. In a subtle way, however, are we not still condescending to the children?

But, Jesus goes on: “Whoever receives me receives not me but him who sent me.” Enter God. Now the Scripture opens wider to me, prompting deep stirrings in my heart. I begin to feel uncomfortable. Perhaps I may not know how to handle a child; but, with Jesus present, I have guidance.

I have nothing to bring and no claim to lay on Jesus. I fight complete surrender. At last, just as Job did centuries ago, I realize that I can only bow in submission, having seen him face-to-face, offering my self, my soul, my all. In recognition of his majesty, justice, and mercy, I stand before his judgment. God is present, and when God is present God is in control. I wait.

I wait for him to receive me. Subject to him, I have no further stubborn insistence on my own control. I surrender to him, in petition for his love, knowing that it will come with forgiveness and acceptance. When I receive Jesus into my life, I may feel more comfortable with him, but a meeting with Jesus always works its way back to judgment. I know that I can never make Jesus suit my convenience or sentimentality. There can be no pretention of control, “But, after all, you know you love me.” This amounts to a power play. I know now that nothing less than the justice, love and mercy of God are working in Jesus. Jesus comes with love in his eyes, but also with a two-edged sword, cutting each way to produce grace with justice. While he loves me fully, nevertheless he is Lord over my life!

My sense of control over the relationship fades with the presence of God in Jesus. No longer is my response one of being sweet, gentle, meek and mild, a bit patronizing. I am not in control; in the name of Jesus and God I am compelled to accept an intelligent and hard-minded responsibility for the well-being of the child. Since the field of force in this encounter is thus transformed, it cannot run on kindly sentiment alone. Correction, love, sternness, and compassion all mingle.

My world has been turned upside down. The opportunity (or is it the responsibility?) to bring that particular child to the fullness of life takes control of my life. I remember Jesus’ words “in my name,” and “receives not me but him who sent me.” No longer can I say, “Well, and how are we today?” Rather the best in me is called to bring forth the highest potential in the child, to receive God.

The way I respond to this child is the way I respond to God in Jesus. That’s a sobering, compelling thought. Of course I do not bow and bend before the child. A judgment is built into the relationship. What I am drawn to do is to stand on my tip-toes, ready for the privileged responsibility which comes in the encounter. God is central to all relationships and especially to the added ones that come with children. In a way, the manner in which I treat the child is that in which the Spirit of God enters into the world through my life. The incarnation is at work in me. The same way I love God -- with heart and soul, mind and strength -- are likewise imprinted on my contact with the child.

Enter God. What would happen if every person treated every child in this manner? What forces would be at work in the world? Would the world be turned upside down? Would all human contacts be changed? All children would be looked upon as of ultimate worth and, therefore, irreplaceable. Corresponding to this worth would be the importance of my responsibility. The yoking of two ultimate values -- the child and my responsible behavior -- implies that a process is at work. Some day this child will have another child as the center of his/her life and move into the position of responsibility. Therefore, along with kindness and gentleness come correction, understanding, wise use of self and resources, right and wrong, forgiveness, and empathy not as sentimentality but as a work of art.

A persistent judgment leveled against parents today is this: they gladly provide their children with every resource -- leaders, coaches, teachers, tutors, and youth workers. Certainly children should be happy and well-adjusted. They have everything money can buy. But they do not have the listening ear of Mom and Dad. “Too busy, later, not now, I’m working hard for your good.” Recall the old saying. “For the want of a nail the shoe was lost; for the want of a shoe the horse was lost; for the want of a horse the rider was lost; for the want of the rider the battle was lost.” It is still true. For want of a quiet, caring intimacy, a child’s primary sense of self-worth is lost. And for want of security and self-worth, the child is lost.

In most churches I’ve known, members find it quite easy to pass a youth by; they are more timid to engage a child than a stranger in conversation. Frequently, when youth are on committees, little sensitivity is expressed toward making them comfortable and enabling them to contribute. How do we get to the point where we begin to do the right thing for our children? Since we started our inquiry into our text with God and worked our way back to the child, this ancient piece of rabbinic wisdom may help: Said the Koretzer. “In the ‘Ethics of the Father’ (4:24,) it is said: ‘If one learns as a child, what is it like? Like ink written on clean paper. If one learns as an old man, what is it like? Like ink written on blotted paper.’ It may be asked. ‘Why discourage the older man?’ But the sentence may be understood to us: ‘One who learns as a child, namely as one who concentrates his thoughts on that which he is learning, and has no foreign thought at that time, is like ink written on clean paper; his learning will be engraved upon his mind, and in his heart.’ Thus, even an old man may learn as a child, if he displays the necessary concentration." Louis I. Newman, Compiler, The Hasidic Anthology (NY, Bloch Publishing Company, 1944, p. 44)

So it is in our lesson today. How do we get rid of foreign thoughts? Enter God. Before God we surrender ourselves. Our lives are set in his truth, power, and redeeming love. The blotted experiences of our lives are removed by God. God cleans the paper. We bow before God with no defenses, excuses or controlling egos. We become new persons. God writes on the clean paper, engraving himself upon a person, granting a second chance.

When we turn to Jesus we see God at work in him. The force of God’s wisdom, truth, power, and the hard-minded nature of the redemptive experience is seen in the flesh of this man. So it comes to be that we receive like children. We are, in the presence of God, members of the Kingdom. The privilege is beyond value and worth. Even as we become a Kingdom member we also take upon ourselves the responsibility of being Kingdom keepers for the child in our midst. Enter God!