My youngest son--who is five years old--came into my bedroom the other morning, sleepy-eyed and stumbling, and confronted me with a very innocent question. He asked, "Is it morning?" The question really struck an emotional chord with me because of its simplicity and preciousness. For me or any other adult, there are few inquiries easier than this one. All you have to do is look at the clock to see what time it is, and a determination of morning is made. And there are plenty of clocks in our home...one in each room. However, Levi cannot tell time; he has not yet learned to read a clock. So when he awoke that morning, the room dark, the house still, and everyone else nestled in bed (including the dog), he was unsure of whether to get up and start his day or go back to bed. So, he came looking for me because he knew I had the answer.
Folks, I was honestly floored by the innocence in Levi's search for truth. He didn't weigh his options before coming to me. He didn't debate the wisdom of being vulnerable in that moment. He didn't beat himself up for being unable to read a clock or worry that he might be slightly behind other five-year-olds in his reading abilities. He didn't overthink the science of earth's rotational periodicity or get otherwise sidetracked with the conundrums of life. No, he woke up, realized he had a question he could not answer, and went in search of the truth from his father.
What if we acted similarly in relationship with our Father? What if we didn't worry about the other things in life so much or try to figure problems out on our own so often? What if we were a little more vulnerable with God and just accepted our weaknesses before him? What if we were more concerned about truth than our own selfish desires or reputations?
You know, as I stood before Levi that morning answering his question, I realized that he is more spiritually mature than I. Far too often, I don't go to God with inquiries; I go to God with requests...things that I need or, more often, things that I want. But I rarely just ask, "God, what about this?" and then listen for His answer. Rarely do I stumble in the room before God, rub my eyes, look up to him with every ounce of innocence I have, and inquire, "Is it morning?"
Thank the Lord, though, today is a new day. I may have awoken yesterday and tried to confront life on my own, but this morning, I have a choice still ahead of me. Sure, my questions may be more profound than Levi's--I can clearly see the sun is up and the clock is reading 7:23 am--but there is nothing stopping me from being innocent and vulnerable in my approach to their answers. There is nothing stopping me from being childlike in my approach to faith.
So, God, is it morning?