Childlike trust

My family lives on an island off the coast of a small New England city. When you’re driving from town back onto the island at sunset, the setting sun shines on the windows of the houses facing west. From a distance these windows, called “fire windows,” make it look as if there are blazing fires inside the houses—minus the smoke. It’s kind of pretty in a magical way, and because none of the locals are fooled by the appearance, we enjoy the views without fearing for anyone’s safety.

There are lots of illusions that help us understand the nature of mortal sense and its trickery. I like recognizing illusions for that reason. However, I also find myself frustrated over problems that seem like realities, and wonder why I can’t claim the same illusive nature about them. Why are they harder to disbelieve? Why can it be so difficult to accept the unreality of what the mortal senses are displaying, and move on? 

Mortal mind (what the Bible calls the “carnal mind” that tries to speak on our behalf; see Romans 8:7 ) is sneaky that way—trying to convince us that there are mortal illusions and then there are also mortal realities. Perhaps we need to understand that all that the mortal senses portray is illusion, not just those things that are called illusions. It’s spiritual sense, based solely on the supremacy of God, divine Spirit, that gives us the correct information about our lives and our livelihood.

To really gain this understanding we need to get back to basics, to letting childlike innocence rule in our hearts. Mary Baker Eddy writes about this in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, where she says, “Willingness to become as a little child and to leave the old for the new, renders thought receptive of the advanced idea. Gladness to leave the false landmarks and joy to see them disappear,—this disposition helps to precipitate the ultimate harmony” (pp. 323–324 ).

Here’s a little example of just how that can work. Years ago when our son Cody was about five, I picked him up from a friend’s house. They’d been playing outside in the sand and dirt and having a wonderful time. However, as soon as he got in the car, I noticed that one eye was very red and inflamed. I remember looking carefully at Cody’s eye. I think we may have even rinsed it out. There didn’t seem to be anything in it, nor did the problem appear to be contagious. Cody told me his eye was bothering him and he wanted to go home instead of to his karate lesson. I listened to his concern and suggested we try going to his karate lesson, and that we could pray about it, letting God give us the healing messages we need. He agreed. However, halfway through his lesson he asked to leave because his eye appeared to be getting worse. We left, and I continued to pray, but I couldn’t get past feeling so personally responsible for handling what I thought to be a substantive problem. I felt pressured. Of course, I wanted to be a helpful, healing mom, but was it all about what I could do? Needless to say, my prayers were not so effective at this point.

We're not earning healings; we're bearing witness to God's healing power.

Driving home from karate, we were treated to a spectacular sunset, and lots of fire windows faced us as we headed back onto the island. Our son was familiar with the illusion. Without thinking too much about it, I said, “Boy, Cody, I hope all the people in those houses are OK!” We laughed about it, and then I told him that illusions can look and feel very real sometimes—just like the soreness in his eye. Well, he “got it” long before I did, because by the time we got home, his eye was almost completely back to normal, and there was no more soreness or redness within the hour. Our son just accepted the truth of what an illusion is—nothing! I, on the other hand, had been stuck on the thought that I had to handle something that was real and then try to make it unreal.

My son didn’t believe the illusion. He didn’t have an issue with leaving the old for the new. Of course, it’s easy to see that young children are naturally innocent, trusting, and teachable. That’s why Jesus loved them so, and told us all, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3 ). But the fact that Jesus told us to become as little children means that we have the ability to do so. And it doesn’t have to be a complicated process. As Eddy wrote, it’s our willingness that renders thought receptive.

There have been times in my life when I’ve been so willing to turn a problem over to God and let it go, that its resolution came about very quickly and naturally. Other times I’ve labored over how to bring about a healing by wondering how I can pray better, live more piously, behave better, think more clearly, etc. Not that there’s anything wrong with doing those things, as long as we’re not stuck on thinking that the power to heal will be granted to us based on how well we accomplish those tasks. We’re not earning healings; we’re bearing witness to God’s healing power. There’s a big difference there. One way is egotistical, and the other is humble, childlike. 

I used to ask my Sunday School students to pretend to lay a problem at Jesus’ feet, just as people did in the Bible. Then I told them they had to do this without bending their waist or their knees. (And they couldn’t just roughly throw it down, either!) It obviously can’t be done—even though they tried. The message in this exercise is that humility is required to lay your problems at Jesus’ feet, or in other words, to let the Christ do the healing work. It sounds easy to do, but we all know it doesn’t always feel that simple. Mortal mind would try to keep us so focused on a personal sense of power, or even due diligence, that letting go of a problem and “laying it at the feet” of the Christ almost sounds too easy, or too good to be true. 

Children naturally turn to their parents for guidance, comfort, protection, and love. Little children do this most naturally. It may seem an impossibility to go back to having the innocence and trust of a little child, but no demands are ever made on us that we can’t fulfill because we have never lost our innocence and trust—our childlikeness. The child within is simply the expression of our Godlike nature—pure, good, joyful, innocent, and free. That’s part of our spiritual identity, and we can always trust its presence.