Faith Like a Child

Sunday, April 29, 2007
Youth Celebration Sunday
John 21:1-19

When you walked in this morning, you might have noticed some things that are different. Colorful balloons float in the air, posters adorn the walls, some of the furniture has been slightly rearranged. In general, things are a little bit brighter and more cheery and more open.

Yet we continue with our worship service as normal. Even with a few things different, we find comfort in the things we know, the things we have come to expect – there will be a great piano duet from Fran and Hilton, there’ll be scripture and a sermon, and some hymns. We will take a long time to pass the peace and greet one another. And that regular rhythm of worship can be familiar and comforting. Even when a few things are new and different.

That comfort is what the disciples are looking for in this morning’s scripture. Their world has been turned upside down and back again. Jesus was condemned to death, crucified on a cross, and laid to rest in a tomb. Jesus’ body was missing and there was news he had been seen by Mary. And then Jesus himself appeared to the disciples and offered them his peace. But then, in a whirlwind moment, Jesus was gone again.

What do the disciples do now? Who will lead them? How do they find a way forward? They return to what is comfortable. They go back to what they know. They head out to the sea and pick up their nets and fish.

It’s what they’ve done for most of their lives. It’s what they were busy doing when Jesus first called them to follow him. It’s familiar and takes little thought. But the night does not bring a good catch. Even that one thing that was familiar and routine to them does not bring comfort.

Until Jesus appears again. It’s his third appearance to the disciples. Perhaps things are a little foggy that morning or the disciples are weary from the events of the past weeks and the long night of unsuccessful fishing, but the disciples do not recognize Jesus.

Nevertheless, he calls out from the shore: “Children, cast your nets on the other side. Try one more time before coming in for the morning.” And the disciples give it a whirl. Why not?

And they are overwhelmed by their nets that overflow with fish. Tons and tons of fish. And once again, their eyes are opened to recognize and see their savior and friend.

“It is the Lord! That’s Jesus standing on the beach. He’s appeared to us again!”

And I love Simon Peter’s reaction. He throws on some clothes. (I guess one usually fishes without them on … ) But he throws on some clothes and then dives right into the sea to start swimming back to shore, to get to Jesus, to get there as quickly as possible. In his exuberance and excitement, he can’t wait for the boat to row its way to shore. He has to do something right away to get himself to Jesus.

It’s not very logical. The boat could probably be rowed to shore just as quickly, though maybe not with the huge catch of fish. It’s not very sensible. Simon Peter and his clothes will be sopping wet by the time he is standing on the beach. It’s not very understandable or reasonable. He will only get there a little bit quicker than the boat, if at all.

In fact, Simon Peter’s actions, they’re downright impulsive and childlike. But Simon Peter is so eager to see his leader and friend again. In his mind, there is no other option but this exuberant greeting.

It’s a greeting that’s familiar to anyone who’s worked with or spent time with infants and young children. Last year at seminary, I spent two days a week with Amelia, an adorable little girl who’s almost two now. And we would read and play and giggle and sometimes cry (Amelia if she was hungry and myself when she refused to go down for a nap).

We generally had a great time together rolling around on the floor. But when Amelia’s mommy came home and she heard that voice and those footsteps, Amelia would crawl excitedly or run wobbly over to her mommy, forgetting all else.

And that’s pretty similar to Simon Peter’s impulsive action of jumping into the sea and racing toward shore when he realizes it’s Jesus standing there. As a matter of fact, it’s his childish behavior and childlike faith that drew me to his passage. Because it’s something that I think we grown-ups need to hear and remember and embrace.

For though grown-ups were once children, few of them remember it (Saint- Exupéry). O we remember the stories of childhood memories and can picture the neighborhood friends all right, but we don’t really remember that childlike outlook on life.

We’d prefer, as CS Lewis states, “to put away all childish things” and just be very grown up, to follow society’s standards for proper behavior.

Author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry illustrated this point so well in his book The Little Prince. While flying over the Sahara Desert, a man’s plane crashes. He is in the middle of nowhere. While attempting to fix the engine and make the plane usable to leave the desert, a small person appears as if out of nowhere. And the man is introduced to the little prince.

The little prince is the most extraordinary small person, with golden hair the color of wheat. He has the questioning innocence of a child coupled with the wisdom of one wise beyond his years.

The little prince, originally from Asteroid B-612, tells grand stories of the people he has met in his travels. They have all been grown-ups and sadly they have not understood what the matters of true importance are. The little prince explains, “Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.”

Like how a mass of scribbles of some color is a magical kingdom. Or how the couch can become a fort in the wilderness. Because why wouldn’t it be?

And so, few grown-ups remember that childlike trust and belief are actually a gift. To be satisfied with simple answers, to not have to have everything proven by numbers and facts and proper sources.

Because there is no concrete proof for faith in God. There are a lot of grand stories and tales of miracles and reasons to believe, but there’s no absolute, 100%-guaranteed proof. Because that’s the nature of faith – depending with childlike trust on what cannot be perfectly explained or seen with the eyes, saying “yes” to holy mystery that cannot be fully clarified.

It’s that moment of coming to the edge of all that you know and trusting that one of two things will happen: there’ll be something to stand on in that next step or you will be taught to fly, to soar with the faith of a child. It’s that moment of seeing your savior across the sea and jumping into the water to swim to him as fast as possible.

And then it’s helping others to do the same. After a picnic on the beach of fresh fish and some loaves of bread, Jesus says to Simon Peter, “Do you love me?” And Simon Peter replies readily, “Yes Lord, you know I love you.” “Well then, feed my lambs, care for my sheep.”

Jesus asks this question not once, but three times. And by the third time, I can picture Simon Peter, with his childlike exuberance from moments before, standing up and saying “Lord you know everything. So yes, Jesus, I love you this much,” flinging his arms wide open as children are prone to do.

Yet after answering Jesus’ question three times, Simon Peter also understands. If he loves Jesus “this much,” that love has to be put into action so others can know and love Jesus “this much” too.

And in the church that means we teach the faith, we grow in our knowledge and understanding of God, and we tend for the sheep and the lambs, the children and the least of these, the “have-nots” in a world of “haves.”

As a church, we’ve done that this past school year. Some of you have spent time with a child reading a book and discussing it or listening to an older child read back to you. Some of you have taught Bible stories and played games and done crafts and assisted with the Christmas pageant with the elementary youth. Still others have prayed for these ministries and supported them with your offering.

And in doing so, we have tended for the sheep, cared for the lamb and perhaps learned from the innocence and awe and longing of a child.

May those lessons not stop today.

May you embrace some childishness and take a balloon home with you. May you find ways to tend for the lambs among you. And most importantly, may you live with that trusting, easily believing, exuberant faith – faith like a child.

In the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer; Amen.