“Beloved child of God” is a title we hear often and usually accept willingly. It speaks of the love, affection, and care that God has for every person. It is comforting and reassuring to recognize God as our loving Father. Sometimes, though, we find less delight in recognizing ourselves as his children.
In our staunchly self-reliant culture, we may bristle at being called a child. As adults, that role can be hard to accept, but grown as we may be, spiritually, we are, indeed, children.
Consider your own earthly experiences as a child. There were most likely times you asked your parents for something. You may have gone to Dad or Mom all bright-eyed and excited because you were certain that what you wanted was what was best for you.
As children and teens, we have so many great ideas: candy for every meal, unlimited screen time, no school, and no curfew. Chances are, though, we each had a parent who said, “No.” Why? Because our parents knew better.
Our parents had knowledge that we as children did not yet have. Our parents saw and understood a situation much more broadly than we could at the time. Sometimes our parents could help us see their wisdom; sometimes, though, we just couldn’t understand, and we were met with the brick wall of, “Because I said so.”
At that point, we may have acted childishly — raised our voices, stomped our feet, slammed doors — but probably not without consequences. Or we may have been more child-like — given in, maybe begrudgingly, and trusted.
Prayer is a similar dynamic. We reach out to our loving Father. He urges us to ask, in fact, so we ask. And the stakes are so much higher than candy or curfews. “Please, Father in heaven, cure him, heal me, make this hardship go away.” We are certain that what we want is best for us or for another. And sometimes, he is cured, I am healed, and the hardship does go away. But what about when he isn’t, I’m not, and it doesn’t?
What about when our prayers seem unheard and unanswered?
At that point, we may react childishly — raise our voices, stomp our feet, slam doors — but probably not without consequences. Or we may be child-like — give in, maybe begrudgingly, and trust.
The challenging call to us as children of God is to be child-like.
As adults, we are used to being the ones with the wisdom, and it is not always easy to recognize that there’s more than we can know. It is hard to relinquish our flimsy sense of control, like holding on to cotton candy in a rainstorm.
But that is the child-like relationship we are called to have with God, our Father — one of humility and trust.
God is our perfect parent. He loves us completely, and he only wants what is best for us. He does, indeed, want us to come to him, to ask, to pray. His answer may not be that which we asked for, but then he asks us to trust him.
God our Father has knowledge that we his children do not yet have. He sees and understands a situation much more broadly than we ever could. Sometimes our Father can help us see his wisdom; sometimes, though, we just cannot understand. That’s when our trust in our Father helps us break down the brick wall and humbly accept that his, “Because I said so” is enough.
Like a child who surrenders to the will of his parent and then grows to recognize how right that parent had been, our trust in the will of God helps us grow in faith and wisdom.
In faith, we will keep praying, knowing that he hears every plea, and trusting that no matter how different his answer is from that which we asked, he will carry us through. Because he is our Father and we are his children, and he loves us completely.
Pamela Kavanaugh is a grateful wife, mother, and grandmother who has dedicated her professional life to Catholic education. Though she has done her very best to teach her students well in the subjects of language and religion, she knows that she has learned more than she has taught. She lives, teaches, and writes in southwest suburban Chicago. She can be reached at pdkavanaugh@gmail.com
