My daughter received her first ‘big girl’ Bible (ie. “not for little babies”) this week from her fantastic children’s pastor, Amy. She was pumped to say the least, and lugged the hardcover book around with her at home all week. 

Yesterday, she took it to preschool for show and tell. 

I was proud. 

I was excited. 

And I was nervous. 

See, no one has told Emily that it’s not a good idea to show people your Bible.

No one has hinted at it not being cool to talk to other people about Jesus. She doesn’t know that she’s supposed to keep that quiet in order to keep up appearances. 

And I hope she never finds that out. 

All she knows is this — Jesus just became a part of her life, and that makes her happy. And so it’s worth telling everyone she knows. It’s worth lugging around a Bible that weighs nearly as much as you do. It’s worth begging to go to church so you don’t miss anything, or not being able to go to sleep unless Daddy prays with you. Again. 

I think I’m starting to understand a little bit more about what it means to have faith like a child. And sometimes, I wonder what happened to mine.