Child-Like Faith

As the Christmas season approaches, I tend to get excited. The essence of this time of year causes us to celebrate the joy of the season. The smells of cinnamon and nutmeg on a steaming hot cup of cocoa, to the warmth of a crackling fire while the ground outside is covered in a blanket of snow. The streets filled with holiday shoppers, the Christmas decorations laced throughout the stores, the soothing lulls of traditional Christmas carols add to the all around sense of what Christmas means. None more sacred than the story of Jesus' birth is the reason for all this celebration.

I wasn't brought up as a Christian, but I do remember attending Christmas Eve mass with my mother, which was such an awesome experience to be out late and the silent reverence of being inside a church with beautiful stained glass windows. I remember the stories of St. Nicholas but failed to catch the meaning of the Nativity except that it was simply something we got to place beneath our tree. I remember watching the Little Drummer Boy in the midst of all those children's Christmas movies that came out this time of year as well.

It seemed like that was my child-like idea growing up that Jesus was special. He was part of the divine and untouchable. He was to be worshiped and respect. I lacked the idea of what a true relationship with God was like until I became a Christian and got to know Him through the Bible and through celebrating Christmas much different than when I was a child.

Now I understand what child-like faith means. Jesus reminds us in Matthew 19:14, when the disciples rebuked those who had brought little children to Jesus. He reminds them, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." This is that child-like faith Jesus is speaking of.

If you have young children, they have such incredible imaginations. You can tell them anything, and they won't question it, they simply take it on faith that it is. Ask any child if flying is possible, they will undoubtedly tell you it is. Without question. I remember believing when I was a child and saw Mary Poppins for the first time, that if I possessed an umbrella and opened it, I could literally float from a high place and be just fine. I tried it, from the roof of my house and I have to tell you, despite my child-like faith, it didn't work.

It's sad when reality dispels those child-like faith moments. When we learn that Santa isn't real, or that magic is just a slight of hand or illusion. That the moon really isn't made of cheese and fairy tales are simply stories of make-believe in a book. That wishes on stars sometimes come true, but more than often, they don't. Or we simply don't remember making them.

Jesus loved children, that is clear in everything we read in the Bible. Jesus sees value in children even though they haven't reached their potential just yet. Children approach life differently than we do. Just watch a child look at ants for the first time, that child-like sense of wonder and awe that they get as if they're seeing it for the first time. The reason is that they are. The first time watch an ant march across the sidewalk or a leaf falling from the tree, or a snowflake falling. Don't miss that moment. It's so rare to us because we've seen it all before. See it from their eyes.

Children aren't jaded by their opinion of the world yet. They are imaginative, light-hearted, humble, and adventurous. They are fearless, simply ask any parent, they will undoubtedly confirm that with a resounding YES!!!

So where does that child-like faith go?

Like Peter Pan fears, we simply grow up. Like my experience with an umbrella, we realize that the things we believe aren't true. Our expectations because jaded. We rationalize things, and lose our fear and sense of adventure, rationalizing the outcome before we even try. We hide things deep inside for fear of letting others see the real us. We begin playing it safe and settling for whatever life hands us. Rather than living by faith, we complicate things and get in our own way. We even try to prove our worth to God by doing things not by faith, but out of a sense of what we should be doing instead of letting our hearts lead us. We believe we are content, but are grasping at straws for trying to achieve that something more we believe might make us happy after all.

I believe we need to get our child-like faith back. Open ourselves up and letting people see us for how we are. To ask for help when we truly need it instead of pasting on our fake smiles and saying everything in our life is O.K. when it is falling apart. We need more than anything to believe in ourselves again like a child does. He never doubts whether he can do anything until he proves he can't. We need to remember that God didn't choose people to make a difference from the finest and most qualified people.

It's just the opposite. He chose flawed people. People like you and me, that doubted themselves. People like David, a lowly shepherd but whom would be crowned King, slay a giant no one else would, and from his descendants would come the greatest gift to the world. 1 Corinthians 1:27 puts it all into perspective, "But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong."

Isn't it time to discover our child-like faith again and go out with God's help and do something incredibly amazing and stop letting the world dictate what we are capable of. I believe in you, imagine what possibilities might exist if you tried, knowing you would never fail? What would you do?

More importantly...

Why aren't you?

God's Timing

Isn't it funny how impatient we are most days?

We live in an world that is evolving as such an exponential rate, faster than a speeding bullet somedays, and when we have to wait for something, we grow impatient, irritable, grouchy, moody and the list goes on and on.

I have learned that God's timing in every situation is always perfect. It always works out the best and even if the situation doesn't work out the way we had prayed, God still knows what's best.

Last night, I was pondering over the word impossible in my mind. We've all read and heard the scripture pertaining to "All things are possible to Him who believes in the Lord."
With God nothing is impossible, just we don't always get what we want out of it.

Take the word, impossible.

The only thing from making it possible are the letters IM.

Yet when God speaks the word, it changes from impossible to I'm possible!!

Yet if you break the contraction apart even further I'm = I AM. Again God's perfect and holy name. So nothing is impossible for God.

We still don't have much new to report regarding Ken, other than his left lung is operating at about 94% and his right lung is making slow improvements. He is still struggling against the ventilator when his medication begins to wear off that keep him sedated but he is getting better. His heart rate is improving along with his kidney function. So even though it may not be going as well as we would like or his family would, we are seeing an answer to our prayers. Once again in God's perfect timing.

I truly believe in time, God's time, Ken will improve and hoping that in his heart and that of his family, they will see life for what is truly is, a precious gift from God, to be cherished everyday and they will turn their hearts toward him. Praying continually for their salvation as well.

We have a God that loves to take the impossible and make it POSSIBLE!!!

Hitting the Top

HITTING THE TOP
by James Colasanti Jr.


I have always had a passionate hatred for gym class. Whether it was the arm-pit stained T-shirts, the navy-blue gym shorts, or the sneakers with an odor that would put Pepe Le Peu to shame, I couldn't say, but I know I hated it.

The twice-weekly ordeal by torture was devised to separate those who can from those who would like to but who could not. Every third period on Mondays and Wednesdays I would hesitantly enter the crowded locker room. The sweat-stained air would slap me in the face as the door swung open and I entered the row upon row of military-green metal lockers. There I would change into my unfashionable gym attire causing the fashion editors of GQ Magazine to go into coronary arrest.

After lacing up my high-top sneakers I would go out into the "big room" facing the horrors of the class to come. But in actuality every week was the same because it always began the identical way with my worse nightmare there before me.

In truth, my arch nemeses were the thick unknotted ropes that hung from the two-story ceiling, reaching all the way to Heaven for some, but not for me. Not only were they a blockade, but for me they were like an excursion to Hell.

At the beginning of each class we were instructed by the coach to climb to the top, hit the rafter, and yell out our name. It never happened for me. Never! Not even in my wildest dreams. My arms would have no part in lifting me up from the floor on that imposing sisal. Then I would have to endure the mocking jeers of my fellow gymnasts for failing to climb the two-story obstacle.

And every week was the same. I just wasn't strong enough to do it!

Until one day, when everything changed...

The tables were turned by the good intentions of one of my fellow classmates. The saints in Heaven would have been proud.

Jimmy was an all-city bowler. His father owned the local bowling alley and Jimmy had bowled many a 300-game. We had both been casual acquaintances but both of us hung around in different circles. He, however, had a reputation as being an all-around nice guy.

He came up to me where I had shied away on the sidelines trying to become the invisible man.

"Jimmy," he began, (my name was Jimmy,too), "How about I show you how to climb those ropes with ease?"

"Yes," I said, "Sure, I'd love it but my arms just aren't strong enough." In my mind I could hear Charles Atlas rolling over in his grave except at that time he wasn't even dead yet.

"Never you mind," he said, "I'm gonna show you how and you won't even be using your arms, except to guide you up the rope."

I looked at him bewildered -- fully knowing that his intent was sincere but not understanding how he would manage to get me up one of those ropes. He started his instructions by simply saying, "I want you to wrap the rope around the back of your left leg, where your thigh is, and then bring it around your calf to the front and then over the instep of your foot."

No one had ever taken the time to show me or to help me. It was always just do it or fail trying.

"You will need to pull yourself up off of the floor first while you do this and keep the rope loosely wrapped around your leg. Now I want you to step hard on the rope where it meets your instep and at the same time pull yourself up like you are walking up a flight of stairs. Let the rope slide down as you go up -- keeping it in place -- and step hard on it again -- and pull yourself up. Just do this exactly as I have told you and before you know it, you'll be at the top."

My skepticism with Jimmy's plan disappeared as I really wanted to make this work. Not only for me but to show everyone in the class that if you put your mind to something it really can be done.

After everyone else had climbed up and down, I went over to one of the ropes. The coach was about to make a snide remark but thought better of it and remained silent. I pulled myself up a few feet off of the floor and let the rope wind loosely around my left leg. Still fearful, I stepped hard on the rope and eased myself up. And ease it was! As Jimmy had said it was like climbing a flight of stairs.

Step and ease up, step and ease up, little by little I went, not wanting to get in a hurry and not make it. The sweaty crowd watched in awe unable to comprehend what they were seeing. Then words of encouragement spewed forth from the onlookers -- now all were hoping
that I would make it to the top.

"Go on -- keep going," came the shouts.

"You can make it -- come on."

"Just a little more..."

I can remember reaching and hitting the ceiling rafter so hard that it hurt my hand. The sound that emanated from that "hit" echoed throughout the gymnasium -- followed by the uproarious cheers of my fellow classmates. A Heavenly chorus of bells must have also rung out as well.

And then I yelled out, "Jimmy Colasanti has made it to the top!"

And I finally had. It was one of those momentous high school happenings that has remained in my thoughts and feelings to this day -- an accomplishment to remember.


If you haven't heard, I have started a new blog called A.R.K. for God in which I hope to inspire everyone who stops by there to participate in doing Acts of Random Kindness. Please join me and become part of something amazing that will make a difference guaranteed!