Psalm 34
First Corinthians 13
Mark 10:13-16
Jesus loved children. In those days, children were treated as just slightly a higher life form than animals, but Jesus saw something different in them. It was consistent with Jesus’ approach to everything and everyone. The self-important, those that the world considers successful and important–those people Jesus considered irrelevant, often evil, and certainly lost and in need of direction. It was the poor—the marginalized—the disabled—the diseased—the low class—the humble—the least of these that He thought were the most important. And so he didn’t consider adulthood to be of much account either. Childhood is what matters. “To such as these belong the Kingdom of God.”
To such as Charlie.
It’s an amazing statement. Jesus isn’t saying, Charlie belongs in the Kingdom of God. He’s saying, The Kingdom of God belongs to Charlie. It’s his. He owns it. To hinder a child from coming to Jesus is like hindering a king from entering his castle, or a homeowner from entering her home. The Kingdom of God is a child’s right—her inheritance. The Kingdom of God belongs to every child, so it certainly belongs to Charlie.
The Kingdom of God belongs to children. It doesn’t belong to adults. Despite all our assumptions of our natural superiority to children, Jesus knocks us down completely. The Kingdom belongs to children. If you’ve got any questions about where a child goes after death, that’s your answer: they go back to where they belong. They go to their home. We needn’t ask where Charlie is now. Charlie’s good. He’s with Christ for all eternity.
But we adults—well, we adults are the ones who need to worry. Adulthood potentially puts us out of the Kingdom. Adulthood is a problem. We’re too grown up for God. Adults have to learn to be children again. “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”
So we are here today not only to celebrate Charlie’s life–not only to mourn his death–not only to celebrate that he is resurrected because Christ is resurrected–we are also here to learn what Charlie has to teach us about receiving that which he owns by right, whereas we adults float around it on the periphery, our situation uncertain: Charlie is teaching us how to receive the Kingdom of God.
If the Kingdom of God belongs to children, then they are essentially little pieces of heaven that we adults have the privilege of interacting with. And that is how Jeff, Karen, Mary, Abby, and Henry always felt about Charlie: he was God’s gift to them. “If Charlie was going to be on earth,” Karen says, “I can’t believe we were the ones privileged to take care of him.” They speak of him with joy and love. Though there were difficult times, the things that impacted them were the amazing ones. They talk about the amazing teachers who taught Charlie how to communicate, walk, and do yoga for the special child. Some of the teachers went above and beyond the call of duty for Charlie, taking time from their personal lives to educate him or even simply babysit him. Their compassion and professionalism had a huge impact. “They shaped Charlie’s spirit,” they say. “They pushed him.”
And what was Charlie’s spirit?” I asked them. “He was sweet—strong—a fighter—beating the odds,” they replied. “And he was very loving.” He had an extraordinary gift for inspiring the best in people. Jeff and Karen found the students in the special needs programs so incredibly compassionate, and those children absolutely loved Charlie. “Charlie was a rock star at school,” Jeff said. They’d yell “ Charlie, Charlie!” when he got on the bus with them and scramble to sit next to him at lunch. He loved to swim—he loved bath time—music—dancing. He had beautiful eyes with long lashes, and a beautiful singing voice. He loved to hear the organ at church and sing, “Jesus loves the little children.” He adored Chicken Elmo. He loved to be held by his parents, brother and sisters. They loved to be with him. He clearly loved them so much.
What did you learn from Charlie? I asked Mary, Abby, and Henry. “Compassion for others,” they replied without hesitation. “The right way to love,” they said, and began quoting I Corinthians 13: “Love is patient… Love is kind….” The Bourland family practiced the kind of unselfish love that Paul talks about toward Charlie—unselfish, giving love, that doesn’t count the cost, but rather, as Paul says, “rejoices in the right.” Jeff and Karen have been blown away by the unselfishness that Mary, Abby, and Henry have always shown Charlie. They loved him without reserve and cared for him without any of the complaints you might expect a child to make. Anyone who ever saw them with Charlie would know that’s true. They’ve always seemed to be filled with joy around him—and they talk about him with joy even now. Once again, we have a lot to learn about the Kingdom of God from the children. Their life choices have been shaped by their experience with Charlie—all of them have volunteered to work with special needs kids. Abby and Mary are in college now with the goal of becoming medical professionals, a goal largely shaped by having Charlie in their lives. Henry says, without hesitation, that he learned compassion for others who are different from Charlie, and it’s obvious he means it.
It’s hard to say enough about Karen and Jeff as parents. Both of them are extraordinarily ethical and extraordinarily compassionate. Both of them are strong and strong-willed. And both of them have this amazing commitment to family—whatever challenges and joys they face, they face them together. Their path was especially challenging: the worst thing about being an adult is you know how bad things can get. That’s often what separates us adults from the Kingdom of God—that awful thing we call “realism.” There were challenges: finding the right school, a brain tumor and surgery, constant health and educational challenges. But Jeff and Karen focused on joy—togetherness—love—mutual support. They were realistic, but that only made them even more loving and compassionate—toward Charlie, and toward one another. I asked them what they’ll carry forward in to the future because of Charlie. “The love we feel toward one another,” Jeff says. “The bond will continue.”
“God was in all of it,” Karen says.
“Whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child cannot enter in.” The Bourlands received Charlie as if he was personally the Kingdom of God come to bless their family; and we can see in their lives, in their reception of and love for Charlie, an example of how we are to receive the Kingdom. Likewise, we see what the Kingdom looks like in Charlie’s life. We see it in Charlie’s love, and in the compassion and strength he inspired in others. God was in all of it—and God still is. God’s blessing will continue on Charlie’s brother and sisters and parents, on his grandparents Bob and Anne Bourland, and Ed and Mary Jo Keith; and on all of us who knew him, friends, teachers, and even casual acquaintances. Next week we’ll be baptizing a child of the church who is named Charlotte, after Charlie, simply because Charlotte’s parents and big sister thought Charlie Bourland and his family were great when they saw them at church. Charlie’s impact will continue to be profound.
Right now, Charlie’s family is grieving. Their love for him is so great and it’s such a huge loss. But they referred me to this line from psalm 34: ” God is near to the broken hearted; He is close to the crushed in spirit.” This is a faith statement about who God is: God is compassionate and merciful, especially close not to the powerful or those who tough it out: God is closest to the vulnerable, the needy, those who need God the most. Once again, this is the God Jesus teaches us about, and the God we know through Charlie Bourland–the God we know through the children. Our hope in God is not simply about what happens after death–it’s about right now, present reality; and how, if we approach life with the openness and simplicity of a child, we can find the presence of God in the most unlikely, and most miraculous, of places.
God is in all of it. Thanks be to God. Amen.