People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.

- Bible, Gospel according to Mark chapter 10

Jesus said “let the little children come to me”, which makes sense because he didn’t have any kids of his own. He didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to a screaming infant, he never used one of those tubular contraptions to suck snot out of a kid’s nose. Jesus never found that somebody had eaten a bunch of carrots in his bed and stained the sheets orange. He never sat ringside and watched a baby use puree like it was hair gel. Jesus was kind of like the fun uncle – bring them to me, we’ll have a great time, sugar them up and at the end of the day I’ll turn them back in to you. He was a young guy, 31 years old, unencumbered and living his best life.

Regardless of all this, perhaps he was on to something, for children are excellent spiritual teachers to us. Babies have a monastic rhythm to their day. Crying from the crib is our version of the morning bell tolling in the steeple, calling us to attention. We are stopped dead in our tracks, whether we be sleeping, eating, resting or working and forced to direct our attention to this little person.

Life is staggered and slow. It happens in intervals of several hours or minutes. We abandon old wasteful rhythms to become more focused on the present moment.

Children are messy, unable to put on a good front like we are. I’ve invited my children to join us in silent prayer and meditation (the baby had no choice). They squirm and wiggle, laugh, fart, snicker and whine. Yet it occurs to me that their actions are a mere act out of all the madness going on in my own head.

There I sit, eyes closed, unmoving, silently praying – outwardly the appearance of a modern-day saint. Yet inwardly, the mind churns with thoughts of boredom, insecurities, sex, petty grievances from the past, anger at myself and others, random bass lines from EDM songs I like, daily tasks to be completed, and excitement about an upcoming playoff game - the minutiae and litter of a REAL person, not some whitewashed religious ideal.

Surely, the children are but a reflection of what is going on inside of us.

They are also full of wonder at the world around them. They are not jaded and riddled with cynicism like the rest of us. Children are both lavish laughers and generous criers. When something is upsetting they’ll react with copious tears and emotions. And likewise, kids are never stingy with their laughs. They are not ‘too cool’ to think something is funny. For example, it’s more fun to watch my son watching TV than it is to actually watch TV. Watching a corny car insurance commercial, he’ll crack up laughing like it’s the latest Sinbad special.

Above all children are needy and require constant attention and care. They will demand to be fed, snacked, wiped, changed, played with, sang to, and provided for throughout the waking hours of the day. It is good.

On the other hand, adults may go days, months or even years neglecting their body and soul. It is screaming out to you “I’m hungry!” or “I’m exhausted!” but you soldier on taking no time to stop. As a therapist, and now pastor, I have seen the long-term effects of not learning the lesson the children are showing us.

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Just because he never was a dad, doesn’t mean he was wrong about the deep truths we can learn from young children.

At the end of the day, I like to imagine he blessed the children and then handed them back to their parents. “Welp…hang in there mom and dad!”, he said.

And then The Fun Uncle went home to his tidy, quiet abode.