Scribble More
I wanted to see where “the scribble” would take us. So we did another stained glass window “coming to life” (read The Scribble for the first one). The children (of all ages) and parents of the Church of the Holy Cross put on their smocks and picked up their Sharpies (yes, we used permanent marker… there were clothing casualties… there were apologies… but we all got into it… and got better about providing smocks). I had spent the summer on a ladder drawing Jesus tossing a little girl into the air on an enormous sheet of draft paper when I had the time. I colored him and the girl. I saw him with technicolor skin. I went with it. By the end of the project only his robe was left white.
We put ourselves in the story of Mark 10:13-15 when Jesus welcomes little children. The children wondered, “What would I play with Jesus?”
Jesus scribbled all over the disciples neat little drawing of who the Messiah was. He was not the Jewish Savior from their earthly enemies and King of their glorious earthly rule. They were not stupid. They knew God’s promises to King David (the Angel Gabriel had reiterated them to Mary in our last stained glass window in Luke 1:32-33); they hoped for a new king. But it was their definition of a Savior. They could and would only think of an earthly solution. One that made sense. One we could do. As we say in the 12-step recovery rooms, “Our best thinking got us here.” We wouldn’t dare to think that an actual God would actually interrupt our best laid plans and save us from a world without him.
Their definition of a Savior tried to keep the kids away from Jesus. Their definition thought Jesus was too important to be bothered with these squirmy affection-attention sponges. That is exactly who Jesus came for. And it’s not limited by age. He is “indignant” with his disciples for keeping children—of any age—away from him. As he blesses one group, he offends another. He scribbles out our definitions with a better word.
My friend Charlie said that we need to hear the Gospel - the Word of God’s love and forgiveness for us - over and over, just like a little child needs to hear from their parents, “I love you” not just once, but over and over. I thought of that often as I drew this window. I thank him for that.
When Jesus welcomes the little children and blesses them, he defined them by his word: I love you. In that welcome, he changed their story. They are not “put up with.” They are not “a bother.” They are not voiceless victims. They are loved—beloved. Seen. Heard. Welcomed. By the King of Heaven. By the Creator himself. As Jesus redefines children, he also convicts his disciples. You are not better than them; you are them. He said the neediness of children is of God: it is how one enters the kingdom of heaven. It is good to need help with everything, to want to be seen and celebrated in everything, to bank on your parent to supply your food, and to be loved every second, especially when you spill the milk and kick your brother. A child needs. God provides. Not just a little. Love in excess. Love that heals. Love in person. Children thrive on love where truth and grace are flesh and blood, holding you close when you need to make amends. Jesus is that love. Forgiveness is where love is not scared of the worst. Forgiveness is the most secure kind of love because it knows that the repair will strengthen the bond and make you strong where you are weak. Jesus scribbled all over the definitions that the disciples gave children and him. He redefined children to be blessed, loved, welcomed. He redefined adults as children. At the cross, Jesus would redefine love as his forgiveness. So when you fall, he scribbles all over your condemnation with his forgiving love.
In our culture, we are trying to define ourselves. Am I male? Am I female? Am I non-binary? We define. We listened to the Enlightenment, “I think therefore I am,” and agreed. Since this word comes from within us, it cannot satisfy. Ever. But the culture is right in part. We do need a word. Or perhaps a scribble. We need a word from outside of ourselves. We need the Word made flesh who really knows you, who created you, who gets you. Who welcomes the child in you. Who loves you enough to scribble out your definition of you and of him with the truth: You are my child and I love you with a love that forgives no matter what. Scribble on us, Lord Jesus.
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