I think I’ve mentioned it here on the podcast a time or two, and I know I’ve mentioned it in my monthly Re{collection} letter, but for the past year and a half, I’ve been substitute teaching in our local school district. It’s been a good set up for me, for now, as I’ve worked on my spiritual direction certification, allowing me the flexibility to complete those certification hours while still doing the tiny bit I can to help make ends meet financially.

Anyway, when I’m not at the local ESE school {that’s Exceptional Student Education}, I usually find myself in elementary schools, either in a first or second grade classroom. And this probably comes as a surprise to no one, but each morning when I show up to sub, I like to prepare as best I can. For me, this means not only reading the sub plans and notes the teacher left, but also taking time to immerse myself in the classroom setup. Do the bulletin boards offer any valuable information, like class rules, class jobs, class goals? Is there anything I notice that might come in handy as I spend the day managing the class?

I also love the classrooms that have lots of cute posters and decorations around the room. And I like paying attention to those things, too. One, because they’re fun, but also because often, those things give me a feel for who the teacher might be, and how the teacher might go about things during the day.

Well, just a few weeks ago, I arrived in a first grade classroom. And as I was doing much of the preparation I just described, I noticed a small, colorful, framed note, front and center on the teacher’s desk; a helpful reminder for her, I assumed. It read, “Let them be little.”

Throughout the day, that reminder stuck with me. I considered what it might mean for me to let them be little. To let the kids be kids. To not expect them to be too grown up or have it all together or do everything perfectly. Instead, I thought about what it might look like to let them have fun and be silly, to giggle, explore, wonder, play, question and learn.

As I made my way home later that day, I wondered if maybe, that reminder wasn’t only for the children. Because something had been stirring in me throughout the day. I wondered if, maybe, I needed to let myself be little, too. Because as an adult, it seems, more often than not, I forget what that means and why it matters.

It’s easy to do. As we grow up, we quickly come to know the pressures and burdens of adulthood. We experience the fear, anxiety, and overwhelm of it all. We are frazzled and distracted. Responsibility and control weigh heavy. We can’t seem to catch our breath or offer our full attention. Sometimes, it’s like we’ve lost ourselves in the blur of it all, like we’ve forgotten the core of who we are. Sound familiar?

There’s a story in Matthew 18 where Jesus reminds us about the gifts of staying little, of becoming like children, and the good it might do us. In verses 1-5, we read,

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2 He called a child, whom he put among them, 3 and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5 Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”

Jesus invites his disciples here to become like children. Which feels so counter to what we’re used to, right? We’re supposed to become self-sufficient adults. We’re supposed to grow up and get ahead, do it ourselves, climb all the ladders, accomplish all the things. And Jesus is saying, “No. That’s not it. If that is all you’re after, if that is your main priority, if that is what you think will make you great, you’re missing out. Because the kingdom of God belongs to the little ones.

Even though we’ve grown up, Jesus urges us to stay little. To not lose sight of or stop nurturing the child within. Because after all, at our core, we are beloved children of God.

As many teachers and theologians have pointed out before, this doesn’t mean Jesus is inviting us to be childish {I.e. immature, foolish, selfish, quick-tempered. Though we are certainly still loved even in our childish moments!}; rather, Jesus is calling us to be childlike—full of wonder and curiosity and playfulness and trust. There’s a difference and it’s an important distinction to make.

So what might it look like for us to step into Jesus’ invitation to stay little? How might we consider what it means to remember, uncover, and care for the child within?

When I was a kid, one of my favorite movies to watch with my sister was the Stephen Spielberg film, Hook. In case you’re not familiar, in this movie, Robin Williams plays a grown-up Peter Pan, Maggie Smith is an elderly Granny Wendy, Julia Roberts is Tinkerbell, and Dustin Hoffman is the infamous Captain Hook. Talk about a cast. It released back in 1991 and, like I said, was a go-to movie for me and my sister. I recently revisited it, and my goodness, it is magic and takes on a whole new meaning watching it as an adult.

The premise is that Peter Pan {now Peter Banning} has grown up. He experiences the heavy pressures of adulthood, climbing the social and professional ladders he’s expected to climb. He is distracted, frazzled, anxious, overwhelmed, and unable to be fully present to those he loves most. All of it is a result of the fact that he has slowly let go of and forgotten his truest, deepest identity—the child within. The actual Peter Pan. At one point, Granny Wendy asks desperately, “Peter, don’t you know who you are?” And throughout the movie, we follow along as Peter travels back to Never Never Land and slowly, painstakingly, remembers.

It doesn’t happen right away. Peter has forgotten how to fly. Forgotten how to play. Forgotten how to imagine. Forgotten how to be who he really is. But there is a scene in which Peter’s memories finally come flooding back, and as a result, he remembers how to fly again. As a viewer, you can sense the freedom, exhilaration, relief even, that he experiences as he flies. He is flying, yes, but really, what that means and signifies is that he has found himself again—his truest, deepest identity, and for him, it makes all the difference.   

What is so interesting, though, and vital even, is that those memories—those “happy thoughts” that ultimately help him fly—are recovered after Peter sees his reflection in a pool of water. Only the reflection he encounters there is not his current, adult self, but a reflection of who he was as a boy. As a kid. It’s a reflection that has pulled back the heavy layers of adulthood, allowing him to see himself not as Peter Banning, but as Peter Pan. That reflection helped him remember who he was deep down. And it is in that remembering that he is able to soar, be who he really is, and do what he came there to do.

It’s not the greatest retelling, I know. But the story reminds me that there is something really powerful about recognizing and remembering who we are deep down within. Who we are as children of God. And that remembering is ultimately empowering, enabling us be the people God calls us to be and do the kingdom work God calls us to do. That childlike way of being in the world—that staying little—is a gift, to ourselves and to others.

Now, I’m learning what it looks like for me to not take myself so seriously. To let myself be little. To remember and care for and nurture the child of God within.

I wonder what that might look like for you?

Maybe it looks like spending quality time with the children in your life, intentionally envisioning the world through their eyes.

Maybe it looks like thinking back to what you enjoyed doing or watching or reading as a child, and then giving it a try again now as an adult.

Maybe it looks like writing a letter to your seven-year-old self.

Maybe it looks like walking through the toy aisles at Target, noticing what catches your eye and considering why.

Maybe it looks like being kind and compassionate and comforting toward yourself when you’re hurting or upset.

Maybe it looks like having a dance party.

Whatever it might look like for you, today, may we remember to stay little. To not take ourselves too seriously. To enjoy. To laugh. To play. To wonder. And as we nurture and care for the beloved child within, may we continue to grow into and become the people God calls and invites us to be.