13th
Conversation with a Little Boy
While I was rocking my infant granddaughter after her big sister’s preschool program at a large church, a little boy about six years old gingerly sat himself next to me on the pew and began to ask questions.
Boy: Who owns this church?
Me: I guess the people who go here. And God.
Boy: Where is God anyway?
Me: Everywhere. He sees everything we do, and He’s in your heart if you want Him there.
Boy: Nuh-uh. (He shakes his head.) That’s not true.
Me: It is. I talk to God all the time. You can talk to Him anywhere you want to: on your bike, in the bathtub.
Boy: Nuh-uh.
Me: Yup. I do.
Boy: Why?
Me: When I need someone to talk to. Or when I loose something, He helps me find it.
Boy: How?
Me: I just hear a voice in my heart.
Boy: But some people don’t believe in God.
Me: Oh, not me. I believe in God. God made everything, the trees, the birds, the sky…
Boy: He didn’t make this church.
Me: He made people who made the church. He gave them wisdom to know how to do it.
Boy: Nuh-uh. That’s not true. That’s just a story.
Me: No, I really believe that.
Boy: Some people don’t believe in God becuase they just think it’s a story.
Me: I believe in God with my whole heart. God is my best friend. You should try talking to Him sometime and find out for yoruself.
By the time I had finished the conversation, a group of young children had gathered around me, listening with rapt attention. It broke my heart that none of them ever had been exposed to the hope that there’s a God Who is looking out for them and Who cares for them so much He even knows the very number of the hairs on their head. I can’t imagine my life without that hope.
