For those of us from EvangelicalLand, causing one of these little ones
to stumble was always top of mind. “Oh be careful little eyes/little ears/
little hands and feet/hearts and minds” sang our little earnest throats.
But now my aging eyes see differently, that song no longer threatening.
To intentionally trip a little one is one thing, something I see a breed of
online provocateurs reveling in these days, each one licking their likes.
God have mercy, Christ have mercy. Such are bullies built for millstones.
But what if one of the little ones trips over your genius—that full-bodied
expression of who once upon a time the Dreamer dreamed you up to be?
Only older eyes can see the stumble as possible gift, an invitation from a
fellow stumbler into the terrible freedom—stay down or get back up, shake
it off, and walk on with us. Maybe killed for a moment, but not whooped.
To walk on stronger, more stretched. To witness, listen, hold, stumble, love,
live and sing a little less afraid, a little more care-full, a little more human.
Yes. And amen.