“Because God…Isn’t Real.”

“Because God…Isn’t Real!”

There was a silence after that. It left my stomach in a bit of a knot to hear those words come out of my four year old Sunday morning.

I recognize and appeal to you his very “four-year-old-ness” and exempt him from a life destined for sin and shame. I know he’s too young to understand the concept of God’s presence, and how much more real He is than the things we see.

At this stage in life he believes what he sees, and when I asked him why he doesn’t think God is real, he responded, “because we don’t see him every day.”

I put myself in his pragmatic shoes for a moment. Here we are having just been through the most incredible holiday where his little mind was accosted with fantasy driven characters who perform amazing exploits of superhuman (or animal) strength and ability. His questions were constant.

“Mom, are reindeer real?”

“Mom, are elves real?”

“Mom, is syrup on your spaghetti good?”

“Mom, is Rudolph real?”

No, no, no, Santa, flying reindeer, elves and ogres…none of them are real.

Instead of my honesty creating a security in him, that he can believe what we tell him, he made up his own mind based on so many falsehoods in front of him, concluding that: NOTHING is real.

He is very black and white, do you want this or that he asks, if you don’t answer, he’ll decide for you. Nothing should be left undecided, nothing should be left out there to be questioned or concerned about. It’s yes, or no and as all the other lies were being exposed he reasoned that God too, must just be another story fed to unsuspecting and less shrewd children than himself.

The world creates so many false positives to entertain us, to encourage us, to show us a “true meaning” for Christmas that won’t offend or bother. We are offered paranormal at every turn. It’s not just cartoons and superheroes either. Sitcoms that end with a kiss and a smile every week, reality shows that have so little to do with real life it’s laughable and detective shows that always end with a killer behind bars.

A good story is fun, it can make us feel cozy and comfortable, it can appease our need for warmth and answer our questions about why we “do” Christmas, seek out relationships and hunger for romance and justice. Most of us wouldn’t watch movies about our own lives, because frankly, normal is a little too boring for the price of a movie ticket.

I questioned whether it was my honesty that led to his drastic conclusion. After thinking more on it, I’m more determined than ever to give him only truth. His personality is one that requires it. There is nothing wrong with enjoying fairy tales, but I must convince him, there is nothing of fantasy in God Himself. It’s up to me and Kris to make the truth the greater story. We are, in many ways, in competition with the world for his attention and loyalty. We have to show him by example, but we have to keep talking, keep telling the story, until there is nothing in him but belief.

It can’t be done by downplaying the Holy Spirit, the gifts and power that accompany His presence. It can’t be done by overlooking the cross, the details of death and sin’s demise are crucial to His understanding. It can’t be done by sugarcoating the Word, it’s instruction and wisdom are the very ground he must learn to walk on.

As I picked up my jaw from the van floor, collected my wits who had stopped the little conversation they had been having with themselves and dropped their dainty teacups to the floor. I heard Owen, the elder statesmen of the brotherhood, gasp in disbelief at the blasphemy before him, and I decided quickly to react without fear. I didn’t want to confront him with shame or shock. I simply wanted to correct.

He’s real Aron, He loves you so much, He made you and He lives all around us, in us and hopefully through us.

And the conversation continues.