Denied Entry

Why Jesus tells us to become like children

I’m a snob about fairs. Every year, my community has one, and during fair week, I pass it daily without ever experiencing even the slightest urge to attend. You see, I was spoiled as a child. In my hometown of Dothan, Alabama, we had the National Peanut Festival every fall. They still do. The National Peanut Festival was a regional event, and it shut down the entire city. Everyone went. People came from other states. Status rose by going multiple nights and wearing the wrist bands to school. It had a parade and a pageant. It’s where I first encountered the joy of live music in the presence of the Charlie Daniels Band. When I got a little older, it’s where my friends and I reenacted the carnival ride scene from the Sandlot after sneaking free samples from tables in the exhibition center. If you know, you know.

It’s also where I first experienced the pain of entry denial. One year, I tried to follow my big sister and cousins onto a ride, but I didn’t meet the height requirement. The plywood clown’s hand rested an inch or two above my head. In my MaMa’s words, I pitched a fit. Exclusion never feels good. When we want to enter, we don’t like being told no.

In Luke 18, we encounter back-to-back stories about entry and exclusion, but the destination isn’t a fair ride; it’s the kingdom of God. If you hang around Jesus long enough, eventually you’re going to want to know how to enter his kingdom. In this passage, he clearly defines the requirements.

First, in Luke 18:15-17, his disciples rebuke people for bringing their babies to Jesus to bless. Jesus responds with his own gentle rebuke: let them come, for “to such belongs the kingdom of God.” In fact, Jesus continues, if you don’t receive the kingdom like a child, you can’t enter either.

What is it about children that Jesus wants us to have? I’ve often heard this passage taught as if Jesus wants us to imitate the humility and trust of children. In this interpretation, children are presented as inherently virtuous, and we need to cultivate the same kind of virtue. However, in context, I don’t think that’s the right conclusion. The passage under consideration comes right after Jesus’s parable about the self-righteous Pharisee and the tax collector who prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” In that parable, the empty-handed tax collector went home justified.

Jesus doesn’t commend children for their virtue. Instead, he points to their deficits. Children were not valued in that culture. They had nothing to offer. Children are small, weak, and lacking in knowledge and power. They don’t have resumes yet, and I think that’s the point. The kingdom belongs to empty-handed people, to those who admit they have nothing to offer. To receive the kingdom like a child is to admit that your only hope is God’s mercy to sinful people.

Then, to drive this point home, Luke tells us an exclusion story. The rich ruler is quite the contrast to children. He’s highly successful and has amassed considerable wealth. Nevertheless, he asks Jesus how to inherit “eternal life,” which is synonymous with “kingdom of God” in this conversation. Something about Jesus and his message appeals to this man, and he wants in.

Surprisingly, Jesus doesn’t reply with a gospel invitation. Instead, he points to the second half of the Ten Commandments. It’s important here to note that Jesus isn’t suggesting that this man can enter the kingdom on his own merit. Jesus is initiating a conversation to inspire this ruler to pull out his resume. He exposes his heart, and it works. The ruler responds, “All these I have kept from my youth.” Now Jesus has him right where he wants him.

In v. 22, Jesus tells him that he’s still lacking one thing. If he really wants in, he needs to sell everything he has and give the proceeds to the poor. The point of the law, as Jesus teaches elsewhere, is neighbor love. The commandments that the ruler obeys are supposed to be expressions of love. Here, Jesus is saying, “If you want to play the resume game, here’s what the law really requires.” Outward righteousness is no substitute for heartfelt neighbor love. When God calls people to righteousness, he demands the real thing.

Tragically, the rich ruler walks away with sadness. To whatever extent he desired the kingdom, it wasn’t enough to give up his possessions. He valued his stuff more than Jesus. And because he couldn’t come empty-handed, as a child, he couldn’t come in. Unlike the ride at the fair, the kingdom is for children. Where does that leave you?