God’s children in the marketplace

Methodist preacher Charles Allen tells of a little child who went on an errand for her mother. She was late coming back, and her mother asked for an explanation. The child said that a playmate down the street had fallen and broken her doll and that she had helped her. The mother wondered what her daughter could to do to help her friend. The little girl made a marvelous reply, “I just sat down and helped her cry.”

At times, Jesus saw the best in children, and said, “The kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” At other times, he saw what was lacking in children, and took note that their deficiencies, too, reflected those of all humanity.

Once, when Jesus was walking through the marketplace, perhaps shopping, he watched some children trying to get along with other children, trying to organize a game. There were two prominent occasions in the ancient Near East: weddings and funerals. Both occasions were highly public; children watched them and imitated them.

On this day, one particular group of children were simply boring, old sticksin- the-mud. They wouldn’t play any game. And so, their would-be playmates taunted them: “We pretended to play a wedding flute for you, but you would not play with us and do a wedding dance. So we pretended to be professional mourners at a funeral, but you would not play pallbearer.” Jesus shared this as a parable about “this generation,” a parable about empathy.

A minister told of the occasion of his mother’s death—she had been kept as an invalid at his sister’s home—they had gathered, the brothers and sisters, and she lay in state at the home. Friends and neighbors came, church members came.

There came running through the house a woman not of the family and not of the church, and she was telling everyone how to interpret their mother’s death. “Isn’t it wonderful? Isn’t it thrilling that she has gone to be with Jesus? No tears, no tears, isn’t it wonderful?” She came up to the son and said, “You’re the one that’s a preacher?” He said, “Yes.” “Then you’re the one who really knows what a thrilling thing it is . . . ”

“Well,” he interrupted, “I wish she were here. In fact, I wish that she could make some biscuits again.” Then he corrected her, “If you think you’re going to make me feel guilty because I miss my mother, then you need to go to another house.” Weep with those who weep. And rejoice with those who rejoice. People want and need other people to share their joys. It’s why we gather to celebrate Christmas and why we enjoy (though we sometimes deny it) when others sing to us “Happy Birthday!” It’s why we relish others sharing with us the joy of promotions, anniversaries, and births and why we send greeting cards— to share with others their joy.

Luke records three stories told by Jesus of a lost sheep, a lost coin and a lost son. Two share the words “rejoice with me,” and the third exclaims “let us eat and celebrate!” The stories have layers of meaning but can mean at least this: those who refuse be joyful, those who refuse to create joy, those who refuse to share joy, simply do not understand, nor are they living in, the Kingdom of God.

Dedication to God’s will and purposes will be evident in your life in some way. One such article of evidence is the way we relate to others through empathy—weeping with those who weep and rejoicing with those who rejoice: Being God’s children in the marketplace.