Sitting in the Atlanta airport, sipping my final Starbuck's iced-soy-mocha-with-an-extra-shot-and-less-ice-and-a-pump-of-coconut for the next two months, I turned around to witness a little girl dancing on a row of airport chairs in front of a massive window facing the plane. Smiling to myself, I envied the freedom she had, to twirl and flounce about, on her own stage, knowing she was lovely. What if I, 19-year-old Betsy decided to dance on airport chairs, simply to display how lovely I am? It certainly would not be greeted with the same smiles, turned heads, and "bless her heart"s, I'm sure.
What gives little girls the freedom they have? The freedom to wear pretty bows, to dance on chairs in airports? Who tells them that in everything they do, they are so delightful, that nothing they do will be seen as weird, or bad, or worthy of criticism or shame?
And when, does this change? Is there some sacred age that all girls endure, and suddenly they are too much? Or not enough?
Who has the right to tell a girl she is too much?
When she does this, is completely free, she is in the middle of worship.
Who has the right to tell someone their form of worship is too much?
When the little children approached Jesus, they were in worship. They wanted to touch Him, love Him, adore Him: all aspects of worship.
His disciples tried to stop them, shame them, tell them they were too much.
But Jesus said,
"Let the little children come to Me."
Jesus also says to us, "Come as you are."
Jesus wants us to come to Him, like children, freely ourselves with everything we carry, knowing that Jesus sees us with delight, and is pleased no matter what.
He sees us as precious, smiles upon our worship, and desires us to freely, openly, beautifully, and abundantly show our adoration for Him. To go back to our child-like hearts, worshipping in all our actions, simply from the fact that we are shamelessly living in the exact way that He made us.
Whether that means dancing on airport chairs, kneeling, sitting, serving, changing a baby's diaper, writing a letter, humming, or whatever else you do, it is worship. It's yours. God gave it to you, and He desires to see the fruits.
Here in Uganda, I am surrounded by children. All of which who's freedom has been stolen away from them. Childhood innocence does not exist here in Kyampisi, because their childhoods are snatched away from their young, free hearts. My prayer is that God uses me here, in order to help restore the freedom of having the knowledge that "I am lovely" engrained into each of their hearts through the love and acceptance Jesus gives.
