SO...we will begin with a story written in 1942. A story that is well-loved, well known, and ultimately one of the primary reasons I awkwardly tumbled onto the dangerous and rocky trail of children’s ministry.
I have read this story more than any other book; to sick children, bored and bemused adults, full classrooms of EFL students in eastern Europe, and on my way to sleep. It’s a simple love story, with splashes of pastels lilting across the page. The front cover reveals two bunnies facing each other as the brilliant world weaves all around them in the weeds and rushes:
Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away.
So he said to his mother, "I am running away."
"If you run away," said his mother, "I will run after you.
For you are my little bunny."
"If you become a fish in a trout stream,
I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you."
"If you become a rock on a mountain high above me,
I will be a mountain climber, and I will climb to where you are."
"If you become a crocus in a hidden garden,
I will be a gardner. And I will find you."
"If you become a bird and fly away from me,
I will be a tree that you come home to."
"If you become a sailboat and sail away from me,
I will become the wind and blow you where I want you to go."
"If you go flying on a flying trapeze,
I will be a tightrope walker, and I will walk across the air to you."
"If you become a little boy and run into the house,
I will become your mother and catch you in my arms and hug you."
"Shucks," said the little bunny, "I might as well
stay where I am and be your little bunny."
And so he did.
"Have a carrot," said the mother bunny.
Sound familiar? I truly hope so.
What a perfect allegory for divine love. Wherever (whatever) we hide, God knows exactly where (and whose) we are. It’s like playing hide-and-seek with a 4 year old. Their stifled giggles from behind the couch are as subtle as fireworks, but we play along, knowing that their joy comes in the being found. Scratching their heads, they are amazed by our ability to see behind doors and under chairs and finally find them in their hiding places.
As adults, however, we seem to have lost that joy of being found in our messy playrooms, wanting a deeper escape and more time to run away to an even better hiding place. “Now I’ve stumped Him,” we think with a sob and crooked smile.
And yet still we are found. Even more, like the mother bunny, we are provided for in ways we couldn’t imagine for ourselves. A God who became who we are—man, in order that our hearts would find true rest in the loving home that calls to us in our wandering ways and fitful dreams.
Children’s ministry is simply another avenue of God’s joyful and transformational finding. The turnings of my disjointed mind will expand on what that looks like (and what it doesn’t look like) in future posts. Of course the ultimate goal of my job as a director of Children's ministry is not to be needed in the first place. I long to see a community of Jesus Christ that is fully embracing and discipling each member, from the womb to earth's final breath. I long to see homes that are so full of the Holy Spirit and the Word of God that my words and actions are merely an afterthought to the amazing grace overflowing into neighborhoods and wherever the people of God go.
But how to get to that point? And can we? And shouldn’t I, the single 29 year old female with no kids be the absolute LAST person to talk about this subject with any clarity?
Well, it’s one untied shoe in front of the other on a craggy and dangerous trail, but you have to begin somewhere. And I thought beginning with some cute bunnies might soften our attitudes before it starts getting really difficult.
Aww. Cute widdle bunnies.
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