Are you sure?
This bookmark will be removed from all folders and any saved notes will be permanently removed.
Being the child
Our grown-up world can feel pretty overwhelming at times. But when we remember our status as God's child, we find peace.
How precious new babies are. So innocent, sweet, and pure. Even when we might feel the grumpiest, we can't resist smiling at the sight of a little child clapping hands and giggling in pure delight.
All too soon the child grows up, and we begin to hear: "If I could just be as big as my sister. ..." "Imagine what high school will be like. ..." "College will be so much better. ..." "When I get married. ..."
Children often feel this pressure to grow up, to leave childhood behind and get out on their own where they anticipate things will be so much better. Even adults, as they reach the next stage of human experience, often find that the satisfaction and fulfillment they expected are missing. Often, the added responsibilities, pressures, and demands far overshadow the promised joy and delight, and the child within us gets buried deeper and deeper below layers of adult concerns.
Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.
September 23, 1991 issue
View Issue-
INSIDE: LOOKING INTO THIS ISSUE
The Editors
-
Is my career at risk? Or governed by God?
Charlene Anne Miller
-
Remember your spiritual victories
Charles T. Allison
-
Second Thought
Milton Keene
-
Choices that make a difference
John K. Daniels
-
Being the child
Joan Sieber Ware
-
"Just who do you think you are?"
Lucinda Baker Greiner
-
Why does Christian Science treatment heal and how does it work?
Allison W. Phinney, Jr.
-
Bring on the heroes
Michael D. Rissler
-
Last year I became ill with a physical difficulty which at first...
Justine B. Beattie with contributions from William R. Beattie, Barbara Beattie Wyly
-
One night I slept fine until about eleven o'clock
Holly Richmond with contributions from Barbara Willey Richmond
-
About two years ago I noticed a growth on my body
Dorothy D. McCullough