When one of my nephews was two or three years old, he had trouble with the letter L. They came out as Z’s in his words so we would hear him say how he had to stand in “zine” for some event at a carnival or how he dressed up as Chicken Ziddoh for Halloween. Ever since then, our family (and some friends along the way) has adopted his endearing trait when referring to things that are small in size or helpless and adorable.
Yesterday in church, during the worship music, I sensed God saying quite clearly to me, “You’re just ziddoh”. Not little, mind you; ziddoh. It wasn’t derogatory or reproachful. It was affectionate. Tender. When the sermon was supplanted with a series of presentations concerning ministry opportunities with the children in the church, I sensed a renewed desire and clarity of need to be connected to something larger than myself. Community that helps shape and inform my walk with God and allows me to see all the various aspects of His character. And not just so I have a place to flex my ministry muscles (although that is an important part of being in a community of faith), but also in order to hear from and see in others various aspects of God’s nature that I need to know.
Then, this morning, as I was preparing for a small group Bible study I’m part of, I read this passage as part of our text for the lesson:
7 "Now, O LORD my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David. But I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties. 8 Your servant is here among the people you have chosen, a great people, too numerous to count or number. 9 So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong. For who is able to govern this great people of yours?" (1 Kings 3:7-9)
Solomon is ziddoh, too! And he knows it! The wisest and richest king in biblical history acknowledges with humility that he is only a ziddoh child and doesn’t know how to carry out his duties. Hey, me too! And my duties aren’t nearly as important as, say, building God’s temple or leading His chosen people. But I am a parent. I do invest in younger women as they grow in their knowledge and experience of God in a relationship with Jesus. I share my life with my friends and family members. I, like every follower of Christ, am salt and light in a world consumed by darkness and sin.
And I am a child.
A child of the Most High King.
Jesus told His disciples that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who receive it like children. (Mark 10:15)
The psalmist reminds us that the LORD is God. It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture. (Psalm 100:3)
Dependence on God is not an undesirable quality. Humility is not synonymous with weakness.
When we are dependent and humble, we are exactly where God wants us to be as His children.
As I’ve spent a harried few days preparing birthday celebrations, dinners, accommodations for out of town guests, and various reading and writing duties, I have spent much less contemplative time in God’s Word and His Presence than I usually do in a given week. All positive commotion, motivated by love and service, but busyness beyond my normal scope of activity. And I notice a difference in my disposition. Some of my friends like the term “social hangover” – a need for solitude when even the most extroverted among us find ourselves saturated by the company of others. That’s part of it. But more than that, I have become acutely aware in recent days of just how unlike Christ I would be – and am, in fact - when left to my own devices and desires.
I am by no means advocating time spent reading the Bible or praying as a guarantee of good character or that the lack of those things will bring about the demise of one’s integrity. We are incapable of working up our own good deeds and character by jumping through the hoops of spiritual disciplines. All of our good works are like filthy rags to a perfect and holy God.
We are, however, changed for eternity, starting here and now, when we honestly assess ourselves in light of God’s holiness and our sinfulness.[i] When we acknowledge that we are ziddoh. And needy. And we don’t have answers. And there are gaping holes in our character. We say hurtful things. We fall short of others’ expectations. And we put ourselves first. It’s what children do, I’m afraid.
At the same time, our genuine spiritual enthusiasm and spontaneous worship thrill our Father, who cares for us, protects us, and guides us as we grow. That’s also what children do. They respond to the overwhelmingly positive and unconditional love of a parent.
I’m learning to see more and more what the community of believers can do in me if I let them. Collectively, we are a force to be reckoned with. I need what they offer. If they need what I offer, that’s an extra perk. Where I see in prophetic black and white, my brothers and sisters manifest beautiful shades of color in compassion and service. When I see victory in keeping my mouth shut, I can be challenged further to speak words of encouragement and truth. My bold, raw, zealous nature is complemented by kindness, meekness, and genuine warmth.
I am not as complete or as lovely a specimen of God’s creativity alone as I am in community. He made me to love, to learn and leave a legacy that reflects His glory. How can I do that alone? There are other flavors to enjoy. And they all come together in Christ because when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. (1 Corinthians 13:10)
Father, manifest your complete and perfect love in your children as we come together in humility to serve you, worship you and reflect you to the world around us. Amen.
• Read 1 John 3:1-10. What are the advantages and responsibilities of being a child of God, according to these verses? How can involvement in genuine community help us reach maturity in these ways?
• Read 1 Corinthians 3:1-4, Hebrews 5:11-13, and 1 Peter 2:2-3. Consider the balance of maturity and childlike faith. Reflect on your own relationship with God. How are you maturing? How are you remaining childlike? How can you balance the two?
• In what ways are you like a recalcitrant, misbehaved child? How are you like an adorable, lovable child? How can you more fully accept and embrace both sides of reality? This may be a topic to bring to God in prayer.
[i] C. J. Mahaney, Humility: True Greatness (Multnomah, 2005)
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