A Real {holy} conversation

I debated about posting this.

It is simultaneously a private matter and something I want to shout from the rooftops.  But I am posting this not for you dear reader, but for my son.  I want to give permanency and weight to the conversation that happened while kneeling next to his sister’s bed.  Because in addition to this blog being a place for me to write, vent, and just be, it is also the closest thing to a baby book that my kids are going to get.  (Much to the dismay of my mother.)  

So readers, my prayer is that this installment of a real conversation blesses you.  I pray you stand alongside me and marvel at God’s work in my family.

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We were reading our bible story, as we do every night.  The story was Jesus’ ascension.  We’ve read it countless times.  Henry’s bible—Sally Lloyd-Jones’ the Jesus Storybook Bible—poses the question at the end of the story—“‘How can Jesus be with us and leave at the same time?’ they (the disciples) wondered.”    

The story ended and we were about to move on to Curious George and the Puppies when Henry asked, “Mom, how CAN Jesus be with us when he is also in heaven?”  

“Well,” I said, trying to reach back into my semesters of Systematic Theology and distill them into something for an almost 5 year old, “it is true that Jesus is alive in Heaven seated at the right hand of the Father.  But it is also true that Jesus is here with us as well because of the Holy Spirit.”  As I type this, I humbly confess that what I said was true and correct but also that it doesn’t really clarify the issue.  To be clear, I’m not quite certain of all the logistics.  Thankfully, Henry helped me.

“Are you talking about how Jesus lives in your heart and in heaven?”

“Yes!  That is exactly what I meant to say.  Jesus lives in heaven and in my heart.”  

He placed his small hand awkwardly on my chest and then leaned his head in whispering, “Jesus, Jesus.”   He sat up.  “Is Jesus in my heart?”

I cleared my throat.  “Well, have you asked him to be?  Jesus knocks and knocks on the door of everyone’s heart, but he isn’t rude.  So he only barges in if he is invited.”  

“Oh.”  He cocked his head to the side and bit his lip.  “I don’t think I’ve asked him into my heart.  How do you do that?”

Tears welled up my eyes.  “Well, you pray.  You say something like, “Hey Jesus!  I know that my heart is broken and I can’t fix it.  I sin and need you to rescue me.  Will you come live in my heart?” 

He sat upright.  He was very serious.  Or as serious as you can be when it is April and you are in your Christmas pajamas and your little sister is telling Jesus themed knock-knock jokes as she hurls herself off her rocking chair over and over again because Mommy is otherwise engaged.

“Ok,” he said, “I want to pray just what you said.  But we should kneel and say Dear Jesus and not Hey Jesus.”

“Okay, you pray to Jesus however you want.  He loves to hear your voice.”  So I knelt next to my son and listened to him pray the sweetest prayer.  The prayer his Daddy and I have been praying to hear for over 5 years.  

“Dear Jesus, I need you.  Sometimes I sin and am selfish and don’t obey Mommy and Daddy.  Will you come live in my heart and save me?  Amen.”  

Then he looked at me, BEAMING, and said, “Give me a high five, Mommy.  Jesus is in my heart!”

High fives, indeed, my son who is now my brother.  High fives, indeed.