Three-Year Old Theology: Re-Mastering Basics

Eva continues to have some serious interest in talking through Bible stories and theological concepts with me, much to my delight. :) Her recent questions involve understanding what Christmas is all about, and why Jesus was born a baby and then later on died, and where Jesus went when he went back into heaven after His resurrection. I can never tell exactly how much she is understanding, but at random times she will ask me a specific question about a detail that surprises me with what she must be digesting from our conversations. It is fascinating to watch her little mind connect the dots, and I realize that because of her I am being pushed to both simplify and deepen my own theology when explaining these eternal concepts to her.

I've recently decided that three-year old theology just might be a favorite topic of mine! It makes enough sense at this age to include details, names, places, and to string together the main pieces of the OT narratives with the NT life of Jesus into one big story that talks about God. But it still has to stay simple, be woven together, and stay focused on the main point. And I keep being amazed that Eva basically asks all of the same questions about faith and God that most adults do, just without any pretense, baggage or cleaned-up words. She just wonders aloud about the usual suspects when it comes to faith - like why Jesus died, why she can't see Him now, why kings in the OT were bad, why God got mad at people in that city, how God made oceans, why there are more church then just hers, what pastors do, and how Jesus is God and also was a baby. It's basically her mind trying to wrap around the key concepts of trust, prayer, faith, the trinity, theodicy, sin, the church, death and the resurrection. Which we as adults are all still trying to wrap our minds around most days, I think.

But much deeper than having fun telling her the stories, and more important than smiling when she wants to pretend she is baby Moses in the river, I am keenly aware that telling her about Jesus needs to be backed up with actions and experience. Maybe it is the Pietist in me, but I already know that Eva doesn't need to memorize the Sunday School answers or recite back names and dates. She doesn't even need to just be able to explain how Jesus died and rose again at Easter, key as that knowledge is. I want her to be amazed by it all, to feel the potency of a God who was born under a bright star as a baby and loves her, HER. I want her to know that she can talk to God any time, ask questions about her faith, and to see connections between her everyday world and the stories about faith. I want her to feel loved and comfortable in church, knowing she is welcome and treasured and that God meets her there. I want her to feel safe and valued by this big strong God, and also recognize the mystery and majesty of this one true and Great King. I want her to see her dad and me pray, ask for forgiveness, handle relationships with patience and grace, work through
discipline and relationships and life with the joy of the Lord and the strength that the Bible promises.

And here is where I am challenged and so encouraged by three-year old theology. I know that this theology needs to be consistent, focused on the main things, and not just a head game. I know that she is watching and soaking up life every minute, and that I don't always actually practice a relationship with God or to the world like I tell her about. And in a unique way, I am more driven to re-master the basics of my faith because of this new young audience member, more driven than I have ever been to write a brilliant paper or to appear to have leadership and maturity for my professional or personal life. This is my daughter's story of faith that is being written. Thankfully it is not all up to me to be perfect, to know it all, or even to shape her faith. It is up to me to remember these basics, to have help along the way from others, to model and practice the ups and downs of the life of faith and let her learn from and with me, and to try to access that childlike faith and joy that I see in her eyes when we read the stories. What a gift that the same God that I've known for thirty years is reminding me, through this sweet little girl and her wide-eyed interest, that it is really still about the same stuff it has always been. I can rest and also give over much of the other stuff, in my own faith and in my mothering, I have realized. Unless its the basic practices and connection to the story of Jesus that I want to make sure Eva sees acted out and explained, unless its really the big stuff, the most basic stuff really, I can let go of the clutter.  


Peter and I watched the enigmatic movie, "Tree of Life," tonight. It is an unusual movie in many ways, and the pacing and plot are very, well, un-plot like and different than a usual Hollywood production. But its a deeply theological story that opens with a quote from Job ("Where were you when I created the heavens and the earth?"), and that threads whispers from characters asking questions of God throughout the movie. It artistically opens up categories like the meaning of life, suffering, control, faith, goodness, beauty, nature, grace, love, family, brotherhood, marriage, and childhood in very unique ways. I enjoyed a lot of it, and it got me thinking; Tree of Life, in its own way, is trying to answer these same, three-rear old theological realities that are so hard to grasp. Why does God seem to let bad things happen? Are we in control of our lives, or is God? Are we rewarded for being fair, just, and hard-working, or is life capricious? Do goodness and love and grace really win out in the end? Why do we do what we don't want to do? Are we alone, does God listen to us for real - and how do we know? How do we get back to the innocence of childhood? How do our families and their implied patterns and explicit tensions shape our lives? How do we recover from grief, pain and loss?

At one point in the movie near the end, a central child character realizes that the anger and frustration that he's been struggling with has lifted. He apologizes to his brother who he hurt, he comforts another sibling, makes overtures toward his stern father, and somehow the cloud is lifted. The voice-over at this point is poignant; his childlike voice says, "I didn't know how to name You then. But I see it was You. Always. You were calling me."

I could have said that exact same thing about my understanding of God at five years old, and at fifteen, and again when I was twenty-five. And next year, when I turn thirty-five, I can still testify that I continue to circle through this reality of not always recognizing where God is, and wondering if I am heard, if I am seen, if I am enough - and then it comes to me. I find the words, it becomes clear - the truth of God always being with me, and always calling me, becomes real and experienced in my own story once again.