Be As A Child: What the Study of Children Tells Us about Our Faith

By K.L. Schell

Christ often used children as examples for believers. He told Nicodemus that unless one is “born again” they cannot see the Kingdom (John 3:3). But what is it about children that makes them a model for the Christian life? Through psychological science, we have learned much about the way children perceive, think, and act from the moment they are born and throughout their childhood. If we apply this knowledge to the theology that Christ brought during His ministry, it becomes clear why the child is the model for faith. In this book, we will see through the child’s eyes and hopefully recapture the wonder we all felt when we first believed. We will walk through childhood together, learning not only about the psychology of children but also insights about our faith, our spiritual growth, the role of the Church, and other important topics.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: Mar 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781400324620

K.L. Schell

K. L. Schell is Professor of Psychology and Director of Assessment at Angelo State University and Affiliate Professor of Pharmaceutical Outcomes and Policy at the University of Florida. Dr. Schell is broadly trained in psychological theory, specializing in organizational applications. He is active in his home church, First United Methodist, both teaching and mentoring the youth as well as channeling his inner rock star in the praise band.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A JOURNEY TO HERE

I’ve had the idea to write a book like this for some time.

After all, I’m trained to write as a function of my education, although most of my writing thus far has involved scientific journals or presentations. That fact alone has probably been one of my greatest stumbling blocks. You see, writing for a technical audience is very different in a number of ways. When I write something scientific, I know that my work will be scrutinized by reviewers, editors, and readers. Before I write a word, I am already thinking about how I can argue my points, defend against criticisms, and ultimately be convincing to people who may not have any real background in what I am studying. I was trained to be brutal on myself, to be both writer and editor, and to write in a certain style that doesn’t allow for a lot of flexibility. You have no idea how hard it was to have begun this work with a one-sentence paragraph.

By the way, as I wrote the paragraph above, I deliberately counted how many times I self-edited (changed words or word order, added/deleted clauses or sentences, and so forth). I have to really focus to do that now – after 20 years of professional writing it has become almost second nature – but my count was 38 times. The paragraph only contains 153 words and 7 sentences. While much of that behavior is explained by my scientific training, it is also connected to the truth that I’ve never really written anything that I thought others would consider worthwhile. My personal standards are high (impossibly, perhaps), and that has kept me from writing this book for a long time.

So, in deep humility, here I am. I am setting aside the rigidity of scientific writing, bending rules that are deeply encoded into my behavior, and that should make me anxious.

But it doesn’t.

It doesn’t because this time I am speaking from a mindset that science doesn’t consider useful because it isn’t primarily data-driven or empirically tested. It isn’t laced with hundreds of citations, tables, or graphs. I am simply letting my thoughts flow and trying with all I have to be honest, not just with you but with myself. Most importantly, I am constantly reminding myself that my words don’t have to be perfect, and my musings don’t have to make sense to everyone. I don’t have to be right about everything and I don’t have to defend myself. I just have to write.

But why now?

Because I’ve realized solely through the grace of God that I might have some things to say that could edify others. That realization began to emerge somewhat unexpectedly when several years ago I was asked to teach a Wednesday night class at my church. The class was part of an educational program that occurred twice a year. Church leadership worked with the membership to plan sets of classes that lasted over a number of weeks. Some were as short as four weeks while others lasted for almost 7 months. At that time, it was called the Academy. I was enlisted by one of the assistant pastors to teach on the relationship between science and faith, specifically regarding evolutionary theory. The pastor that asked me to do it was actually a part-time pastor; his day job was working as a veterinary virologist. From time to time, we would talk informally about science and faith, evolution, astrophysics, and anything else that caught my attention. So when he asked, I considered it carefully because I was honored that someone with an advanced biological education thought I could pull it off.

In retrospect, my first response was predictable. It was similar to what Moses did when confronted by God. With the mental image of the burning bush in the background, I told the pastor that I would do it but only if he agreed to teach it with me. I remember saying something about how the class would benefit from his expertise and that we would complement each other, but in reality I just didn’t believe that anyone would want to come. This was a church, after all; historically, churches and evolution haven’t really gotten along. I reasoned that the pastor’s presence would legitimize me and give me a chance to be heard. I really didn’t think anyone would care what I had to say otherwise. I was just the guitar player in the praise band, after all.

This reaction was also deeply rooted in my past. At the risk of being a little immodest, I was born with a wonderful gift of intelligence. I’m no genius to be sure, but cognitive skills have never been a problem for me in most areas. In high school, I rarely expended more than minimal effort and still graduated third in a class of about 350 students. In college, I behaved similarly and still graduated with honors. Then, I completed a Master’s degree and a thesis while working a full-time job and trying to get my rock band signed. It wasn’t until I began my doctoral education in Psychology that I reached a point where more than minimal effort was going to be required. I remember distinctly how surprised I was when a poor grade on my first social psychology paper made me painfully aware of that reality. My students at the university where I work have often said that I am intimidating to them, not because I am surly but because of this gift of intelligence. So I was certain that teaching this class would lead to a bad outcome – people would find it difficult to relate to me and the whole thing would fail.

When the time came for the course, about ten people were enrolled. I was actually a little surprised by that, though I really don’t know what I was surprised about specifically. I just didn’t expect it. I had spent a decent amount of time preparing for the course so I was confident I could communicate the information. But even as the first class approached, I believed that this was going to be a huge mistake. The subject was just too heavy, too controversial, and I was probably the only one in the room that would find it interesting.

The first night of class began. I tried to keep things simple – I was pretty sure there weren’t a lot of geneticists or molecular biologists in the room. I made sure to talk about how science and faith don’t have to be enemies all the time, and that Christianity doesn’t come with a software update that makes you automatically paranoid about anything scientific. Really, the first class was very introductory, without a lot of difficult concepts. Even so, when it ended, I was pretty sure that I had frightened everyone away.

I was wrong.

The next week, I walked into a room with more people. Not only had the original group returned, but they brought friends. I was astonished. I was so sure what would happen, but it didn’t. The class lasted eight more weeks and most people were there for all of them, dutifully bringing the book we were reading even though I sensed that they didn’t understand a lot of it. Near the end of the course, a dear woman in the church with a habit of speaking very frankly stopped me one night as people were leaving. I don’t remember her exact words, but she said something like, I don’t really understand a lot of the science, but I believe that God is responsible for it all even more now.

That class became one of the most humbling experiences of my life because the Spirit made something painfully clear to me through it.

I’ve given you talents and gifts. Why do you not believe that they matter?

In this book I will use some personal examples, but this is not intended to be an autobiography. I don’t generally like talking about myself that much, and I am nowhere near worthy of being elevated as some sort of role model.

Instead, my goal is and always will be to share what meager wisdom God has granted me in a way that builds up the body of Christ. I will try to combine what I have learned about my faith with my education in human behavior, focusing almost exclusively on children, to provide new viewpoints on the life of the Christian. There is a lot of questionable literature out there in so-called Christian psychology that is not based in the science of behavior but in anecdotes and personal experiences. I hope to be a counterweight to that.

We should begin with a foundational statement. I believe without reservation that the fingerprint of God exists in the pinnacle of His creative endeavor – humans. I believe that the Scriptures make this clear as well.

"Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over the cattle and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth."

(GEN. 1:26, EMPHASES MINE).

The Hebrew words used for "image and likeness are only used once in the entire Bible – here. Interestingly, the first word used is masculine while the second word used is feminine; the following word them" really means a lot more when you consider this. Taken together, these words describe a reflection of God, similar but not equal, a faithful representation but yet not possessing every characteristic of the original. We are not an identical physical image but an image of the nepesh, the soul that God granted to man alone.

When we look in the mirror, we see a representation of our physical appearance. We see what others see when they look at us (although we may perceive it differently). But what is behind those eyes