Let the Children Come

Luke 18

People were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them; and when the disciples saw it, they sternly ordered them not to do it. But Jesus called for them and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’

I was one of those children. Actually, I was an infant, just a baby, brought to Jesus by my parents. And this may surprise you, but my visit with Jesus was one of the most impactful experiences of my life. I just didn’t know it at the time, and it would be years before I realized it.

You might think that after receiving this blessing from Jesus, my life would be forever blessed, and that I would follow a path of righteousness and purity. You might even think that, sitting on his lap, something miraculous could have passed from Jesus into my infant body.

Christ blessing the Children by Lucas Cranach the Younger

Well, if you think that, you’d be wrong. I am sorry to say it. Let me try to explain.

You see, if you must know, I’m writing these words to you from prison. Yes, prison. And don’t think that I am here unjustly, that I’m innocent. I am not. I was guilty and was sentenced to prison.

I didn’t start out on a path to prison. But things began to go wrong for me as a young child. You see, in our first century culture, children were little more than the property of their parents. I mean, parents could do pretty much whatever they wanted with their children.

And my parents were poor, extremely poor. And so, at a very early age, they essentially sold me, to be indentured to a local man, learning his trade, which was metal working. The work was hard, very hard, and I was treated harshly, and punished regularly.

I finally rebelled against him and tried more than once to run away. More punishments followed, and then, I began to get into serious trouble, stealing mostly.

You might think that there was a sort of breaking point when I finally chose to go astray. But I don’t believe there was such a singular event where I suddenly went wrong and found myself locked up. It was more gradual. My path to prison took years, slowly drawing me down, ever deeper, descending into a sort of hell. Stealing had become my way of life.

My master finally had enough and turned me in to the authorities; and that’s how I ended up here in prison.

So, you see, my life did not unfold like my parents hoped for when they brought me to Jesus. They wanted Jesus to bless me, and he did. Yet, looking back, it seemed that my childhood was stolen, and the innocence of my infant life died along with it. I was now alone, facing the consequences of my actions, and left to assess my life here in prison.

Yet I was left to wonder: what had become of the blessing of Jesus?

Prison is, of course, a hellish place. A place to avoid at all costs. It’s dark, very dark, and in more ways than one. But it does have at least one redeeming quality: and that quality is time. It gives you time: years of time, in fact, to reflect on your life, and to think about what is truly important.

It doesn’t happen right away, you must understand. For me, it took about five years in the darkness of my windowless prison cell before the bitterness began to wear away enough for me to think clearly. Bitterness, you see, is the evil fruit of a life gone wrong, a life that landed me here, and a life path that seemed to swallow me up in darkness.

In short, I hit bottom about five years in. If the circumstances of my life hadn’t broken me before, prison surely did. I was too empty, too tired and too defeated to feel bitter any more. Everything, I concluded, was all my fault. I freely accepted the darkness within me.

And, surprisingly, that’s when the blessing of Jesus, from so many years ago, finally came alive to me.

How did it come alive? Unexpectedly. There was no way that I was looking for any sort of redemption. I had become resigned to my fate in life, reflecting on where I went wrong and never shirking my personal responsibility. The feeling of loss seemed to engulf me.

But amazingly, redemption is what I got. And it did come unexpectedly, through the life and words of another prisoner.

His name was Peter, and he was a follower of Jesus. Yes, Jesus, the same Jesus who had blessed me as a baby. The same Jesus who, like me, had been convicted of a crime. But unlike me, Jesus had been executed, crucified by the Romans.

I knew the story of his crucifixion. But I had always wondered what had been his crime, what had led Jesus to such a brutal fate as a common criminal.

Peter could explain. Peter told me the whole story of Jesus: how he had healed so many, and how he had eaten with sinners, the lowest of our community. And he told me what Jesus had to say about prison. Yes, Jesus talked about loving our neighbor, and he even talked about visiting those in prison. He said that visiting those in prison was like visiting Jesus himself!

And more: Peter told me that Jesus was the Son of God, and that he spoke of the Kingdom of God, and of mercy and forgiveness. Forgiveness that extended even to people like me. Yes, even to me, a prisoner who had accepted a life in darkness and defeat.

And amazingly, Peter told me that Jesus was raised from the dead, and that he still lives!

The more Peter spoke, the more Jesus seemed to come to life in my mind, and the more the darkness seemed to melt away. And as he spoke, my hope was beginning to be restored. I felt a sense of comfort and peace filling my emptiness, erasing my shame. His words brought light into my darkness.

Peter asked if I had repented of my crimes, and I said that yes, I had, but that I still considered myself guilty and deserving of the punishment that I had received. And then, Peter said something remarkable: he said that Jesus could forgive me, and that I must forgive myself.

That’s when I told Peter about my long-ago blessing by Jesus. And to my surprise, Peter responded that he had been there, confessing that he had advised Jesus to drive the children away.

But of course, instead, Jesus welcomed the children, and as Peter recounted, Jesus then spoke the words that have found a home in my heart: ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’

I asked Peter about his crime and why he was with me in prison.

“Since I became a follower of Jesus,” he replied, “I have been in and out of many prisons. The powerful people of this world do not wish to hear the message of Jesus, of love and mercy and redemption. That’s why they couldn’t let him live, why Jesus had to die.

“And so, when it pleases them, they put me and my brothers in prison, attempting to shut us up. But I have learned that the word of Jesus will never be quiet, and that no prison can hold his word for long.”

He went on: “Hear this, my brother, our meeting here in prison is no accident. You were blessed by Jesus long ago, and that blessing remains. It has never left you. Perhaps, it was simply hidden from you for a time.

You were and are a child of God, and nothing can take that away from you: no sin of yours and no prison bars can take away the love of God. And that innocent child, the one Jesus blessed so long ago, has not died! That innocent child lives within you to this very day! The child Jesus blessed is still within you, redeemed by Jesus!”

A child of God! Can I truly be a child of God, even as a grown man? Even as a prisoner? The words of Jesus keep coming back to me:

“Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

I don’t blame my parents for my life and for my mistakes. They did what they had to do, out of desperation. Yet even so, my childhood was lost, stolen away from me.

But that was my first childhood, a childhood gone terribly wrong. Perhaps now, as a grown man, I’ve been given a second chance: I can re-discover the child blessed by Jesus, hidden in me for all these years. Thanks be to God for his blessing of me, years ago. Now I realize that the blessing of Jesus never left me! And his light can shine, even in the darkness of any prison. Even in me.