Believing Like a Child

It often happens that on Sunday afternoon I take a short walk with a few of our children to a nearby cemetery. At first, just to give both them and myself a bit of air—but also because we enjoy reading what is written on the gravestones. That might seem like a somewhat morbid hobby, but you can imagine the kind of fascinating conversations it can lead to.

Boaz is in third grade and is already fairly good at sounding out inscriptions. Yesterday, we walked past several gravestones where small plaques had been placed.

“Daddy, what does it say on these plaques?”
“Well, you can read—go ahead and read it.”
“No, daddy, you say it.”
“Well, it says that these graves will soon be cleared.”
“What does ‘cleared’ mean?”
“That means the remains of the people buried here will be taken up so that other people can be buried here.”
“And what will they do with those remains?”
“Well, I don’t really know exactly. I think they’ll be destroyed.”
“But how can God make those people alive again?”
“Oh, that’s no problem—God will definitely find them again.”
Boaz thinks for a moment, then says with a laugh:
“Cool, huh! God just puts them back together like a puzzle!”
“Yes, exactly,” I said, “you could put it that way.”

Educational conversations, I must say. For Boaz, of course—but above all, for me.

Delen: