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bishop's perspective:
How to bring others to know God
In the 1950s book, "The Christian Nurture of Children," Alta Mae Erb gave us insight into how we bring others to know God. Although the language of her parables is dated, the truth in them is eternal.
Parable One: I took a little child's hand in mine. He and I were to walk together for a while. I was to lead him to the Father. It was a task that overcame me, so awful was the responsibility, and I talked to the little child only of the Father. I painted the sternness of the Father's face, were the child to displease him. We walked under tall trees. I said the Father had power to send them crashing down, struck by his thunderbolt. We walked in the sunshine. I told him of the great- ness of the Father who made the burn- ing, blazing sun.
And then one twilight we met the Father. The child hid behind me. He was afraid. He would not look up at the face so loving. He remembered my picture. He would not put his hand in the Father's hand. I was between the child and the Father. I wondered. I had been so conscientious, so serious.
Parable Two: I took a little child's hand in mine. I was to lead him to the Father. I felt burdened by the multitude of things I was to teach him. We did not ramble. We hastened on from spot to spot. At one moment we compared the leaves of the trees. In the next we examined a bird's nest. While the child questioned me about it, I hurried him away to chase a but- terfly. [If he] chanced to fall asleep, I wakened him lest he should miss something I wished him to see. We spoke of the Father often and rapidly. I poured into his ears all the stories he ought to know, but we were inter- rupted often by the wind blowing, of which we had to speak; by the coming out of the stars, which we must need study; by the gurgling brook, which we must trace to its source.
And then in the twilight, we met the Father. The child merely glanced at him. The Father stretched out his hand, but the child was not interested enough to take it. Feverish spots burned on his cheeks. He dropped exhausted to the ground and fell asleep. Again, I was between the child and the Father. I wondered. I had taught him so many, many things.
Parable Three: I took a little child's hand in mine to lead him to the Father. My heart was full of gratitude for the privilege. We walked slowly. I suited my steps to the short steps of the child. We spoke of the things the child noticed. Sometimes it was one of the Father's birds. We watched it build a nest. Then we saw the eggs that were laid. We wondered later at the care it gave its young.
Sometimes we picked the Father's flowers and stroked their soft petals and loved their bright colors. Often we told stories of the Father. We told them over and over again. Sometimes we stopped to rest, leaning against the Father's trees and letting his air cool our brows and never speaking.
And then in the twilight, we met the Father. The child's eyes shone. He looked up lovingly, trustingly, eagerly into the Father's face. He put his hand into the Father's hand. I was for the moment forgotten. I was content.
From "The Christian Nurture of Children" by Alta Mae Erb, Herald Press, Scottdale, PA 15683. Used by permission.
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