Little Teacher

My oldest son (who is nine) is quite a Christian. Everything is plainly black and white to him. A few days ago, as is his custom, he pulled out his Mayo Medical Manual for a little light reading at breakfast. As I was putting the bread in the toaster I said, "Hey, what are you reading about in there?"

"Oh, well, I am really interested in suicide. It tells a lot about it in here. It says that a person is usually full of grief...then it says there is really no cure for grief..but that is silly...these people should just pray to Jesus! He is the cure, Right Mom?!"

"You are absolutely right," I said.

"Yeah, Mom. I don't get how these people don't know this stuff. These people that wrote this must not believe in Jesus!" He shakes his head shamefully.

When I told my husband this he had to laugh. He is the one who stated later that he thinks so black and white. He really does. He then told me that every Sunday at church during any time of the service he is wiping away tears (sometimes several times a service). Mr. Wilhelm has asked what he is crying about and he says that he doesn't really know, he just cries.

I have a lot to learn from my son. I can be icy, unfeeling and unmoved when the Spirit is present. Sure, there are many times when I am moved to tears during a service, but this child proves to me that a child-like faith is better than mine. I am sure our Lord delights in children who believe in Him. Everyone knows it says that we must become like little children. I am my son's teacher in so many ways but definitely in this way he is mine.