Grown-Up Senses

“He (Christ) told us to be not only ‘as harmless as doves’, but also ‘as wise as serpents’. He wants a child’s heart, but a grown-up's head. He wants us to be simple, single-minded, affectionate, and teachable, as good children are; but He also wants every bit of intelligence we have to be alert at its job, and in first-class fighting trim. The fact that you are giving money to a charity does not mean that you need not try to find out whether that charity is a fraud or not. The fact that what you are thinking about is God Himself (for example, when you are praying) does not mean that you can be content with the same babyish ideas which you had when you were a five-year-old. It is, of course, quite true that God will not love you any the less, or have less use for you, if you happen to have been born with a very second-rate brain. He has room for people with very little sense, but He wants everyone to use what sense they have.” (-from Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis)

God intends us to have a child-like heart and a grown-up brain. A child’s heart rarely gets mired down in cynicism and hopelessness. Instead, it looks at the world with wonder and trust—expecting goodness. When children go through severe trauma, we say that they have lost their innocence. They have experienced pain, they are now aware of the darkness in this world, and they shall now look at the world skeptically. We often associate this awareness—this hardening of the heart—with maturity. As grown-ups, we are more guarded, less vulnerable, more complicated, less trusting. We are not as open to learning, because we are cautious about whom we will trust to be our teachers and guides. Some people are able to keep their childish heart, but unfortunately retain their childish brain along with it. These are the people who refuse to face reality, imagining that ‘everything will somehow work out’. Oftentimes, they are in denial about the cause and effect of their choices—waiting for others to rescue them from the consequences of their immature actions.

So how can we integrate a childish heart and a grown-up brain? Well, we can reserve our wonder, awe, and trust for God—while looking rationally, analytically, and thoughtfully at ourselves and our fellow humans. This doesn’t mean that we hang on to our babyish ideas of a fuzzy, cuddly, teddy-bear of a God; nor does it mean that we no longer trust another human being. If we were sitting on a bench, and it broke, we would be cautious about sitting on it again. But if a dependable carpenter fixed this bench, we might feel secure enough to sit on it again. It’s not because we feel assured of the quality of the wood, or the nails, or the screws that make up the bench—but because we trust the workmanship of the One who fixed the brokenness. As grown-ups, we have to accept that it is part of our human condition to be broken easily. Yet, we can also place our confidence in our Father who mends our brokenness.