Kids’ Songs

I like essentials. They help me unload excess baggage.

I used to teach the nursery class in Vacation Bible School and Children's Church. Way back when I could bend down or sit low with those little guys. Two classics I loved to lead those kids in singing. Two of my favorite songs from when I was a kid. "Jesus loves me, this I know" and "Jesus loves the little children of the world."

You can't get more basic than that. This is the Gospel – that Jesus loves me (personal) and that Jesus loves everyone, regardless of human classification (universal).

I've blogged about this before, but it comes to mind again and again. As, for example, I read about this priest, Henry Nouwen, who encourages a father to bless his own bio son in case he dies. The son has suffered some horrible accident and is not expected to live.

Bless him, Nouwen says, by which he means, "Say good things to him. Tell him that you love him and speak to him about God." The son eventually recovers, though I've no doubt the blessing is not wasted. [Michael Ford, Wounded Prophet: A Portrait of Henri J. M. Nouwen, 151]

What does it mean to bless someone? It means to speak of or to demonstrate God's great love to that person.

We classify and clarify and cull each other's faith. We, who think we understand yet have hardly begun to fathom God's love, what do we know? We barely understand it for ourselves.

A friend challenges our small group discussion with the question of whether some sins are greater than others. I squirm. Okay, I get angry. But since I am only starting to learn how to get angry instead of stuffing it (apparently this is a skill to be learned), I merely squirm loudly to the pain (no doubt) of my friends.

Why do I not like the idea that some sins are greater than others? Perhaps there are variations and degrees of sin. Not a problem if God is judge. Besides being impartial, who can argue with the Almighty? God is going to do what God is going to do.

But I don't have to put up with people acting like God. I am not a polytheist. One God is enough for me. And I like this God who loves unconditionally. Apparently God's forgiveness is conditional – if we ask for it, if we forgive others, especially if we forgive others. But God's love is at once unconditional, eternal and universal.

I get angry because I have seen where that question of whether some sins are greater than others leads. Step 1, some sins are greater than other sins. Step 2, your sins are greater than mine. Step 3, I'm in, you're out.

Ever notice, another friend points out one day, how the fewer people who practice a certain sin the more evil it is in the eyes of others? How many people commit adultery compared with how many people feel lust? Obviously more people are guilty of lusting than of committing adultery. Which sin is looked down on by the greater number of people? The sin that fewer people commit. The sin that fewer people want to excuse. Which sin does Jesus say is greater? Hmmm, if you lust after someone, he says in Matthew 5:28, you've already committed adultery. About the same, apparently.

At times I have fellowshipped with a particular group of people not readily accepted by church or society. They are misfits in our world. I've noticed something about them. They are some of the most accepting people you will ever meet. They who have been forgiven much, love much. And they are deeply in love with Jesus, even as they struggle to realize Jesus really does love them.

He does, he really does. The Bible tells me so. And it also tells me that he really, truly does love all the children of the world – red, yellow, black and white, they are all precious in his sight. Grab that double truth about God's love, let it sink deep into your gut, let it transform your life. Let it shake up the way you relate to others. All the rest is excess baggage.