BY JEFF SCOGGINS

WAS BORN TO BE AN ADULT. Profound, eh? But true. I don't recall ever enjoying being a kid simply for the sake of it. I was not an unhappy child. It's just that in the back of my mind, and often at the front, I wanted to grow up. I resented being excluded from adult circles, not being allowed to do the things my dad or my uncles did. I actually wanted to pay the full adult fee to enter the fair. I couldn't appreciate the fact that I was young enough to not need a fishing license. And I always wanted to drive.

I wasn't satisfied as I passed major hurdles such as my sixteenth and eighteenth birthdays. Why? Because although I didn't want to drink alcohol, I disliked the fact that I was forbidden. Age 21 was a major milestone. I didn't go barhopping or even sneak a drink. I was pleased simply because I was old enough to do anything I chose--except retire, probably the one thing I'm not yet rushing toward.

I remember trying to force my voice to change. I scoffed when someone said such and such would put hair on my chest; then secretly I did it, in case there was truth in what they said. I thought I was old enough to start shaving years before I actually needed to.

It gets worse, my striving to grow up. But I won't go into details, since I expect many people understand, whether they admit it or not.

I Remember the Day It Happened
Looking back, I think I can identify the day I unconsciously informed myself that I had finally become an adult. I had just finished my first year at boarding school away from home, and I had changed. I could see it. I could feel it.

My first clue that I had changed was summer vacation when I returned to the friends I'd left behind. I suddenly realized I no longer enjoyed their company. I discovered instead that I preferred hanging out with the older teenagers--the ones I had earlier considered ridiculous. The games I used to enjoy had become childish. I paid attention to how I dressed and combed my hair. I started using words I never used before. I learned to like popular music. I remember in particular a brief discussion with my younger sister about music. For me it marks the day I became an adult.

She turned on a much-played Heritage Singers cassette called Heaven Is for Kids. Proud of my musical maturity, I asked if she ever listened to anything besides that tape. She asked, "Why?"

"Well, you can't listen to Heaven Is for Kids for the rest of your life," I said emphatically, piously even.

"Oh yes I can," she said hotly. That was the end of it.

Why I have remembered that conversation I can't say, but it's nearly 20 years later and I've not forgotten it. Just today, driving the California interstate, being as adult as possible (business trip, things to do, places to go, people to see, responsibility), I thought once again how wrong I was in that conversation of long ago.

Adults Can Be Dangerous
Jesus said, "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." What did I have as a child that I lost by growing up?

I watch children scribble in their coloring books. They aren't even slightly inhibited by the black lines that adults have prescribed for them. Eventually though, we adults manage to train them to stay inside the lines, think inside of the box. Hurray for adults. Nevertheless, children still will not confine themselves to particular colors. Not only is it OK to color a person purple, it's cool! After all, when God started coloring, He liked the idea of different colors of people too.

Children actively look for ways to trust. "Daddy, catch me when I jump off the roof!" The mature adult reaction, of course, is to slaughter such trust instantly. "Don't ever do that again! What if I had missed you!"

Children can be happy with anything and nothing. If they don't have a television, that's OK; they have a book. If they don't have a book, that's OK; they have a ball. If they don't have a ball, they have enough string to make a ball. If they don't have string, they have a rock. If they don't have a rock, that's OK, because fingers make interesting shadows on the wall. If they don't have fingers, they can run fast. One must start growing up to become dissatisfied with their lot in life.

Children have time for important things. Birthday parties, ball games, friends, meals together, Sabbath school, staring at bugs, making faces in the mirror, hugging Mom and Dad, crying. Adults have time for urgent things: paying bills, buying clothes, fixing the car, making money. Martha had time for urgent things. Mary had time for important things.

Children enjoy being curious. Spiders look funny. Why? How does a frog croak? What happens when I stuff raisins into the VCR? Adults, on the other hand, feel weak if they don't know everything, ignorant if they ask stupid questions.

Children are honest. They say, "I don't like you anymore. I'm not going to be your friend." And soon the two have worked out their differences and are best friends once again. Adults, on the other hand, smile in the face of an enemy and watch for an opportunity to stab them in the back--in the interest of peace, naturally.

Children are generous. If they give a toy to a poor child, they give their favorite toy. If they decide to give money, they give their whole piggy bank. One must grow up to learn to give less than everything.

Children are capable of fear, but they don't worry. Thunder and lightning at night may send a child running to Mom and Dad in their room. But how many children have you seen eyeing the sky all day long worrying that a storm might come? They don't. One must grow up a bit to start worrying. And when a child does become afraid, as soon as they snuggle in with their parents, they are immediately at peace. Jesus said, "Don't worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will take care of itself."

Children aren't limited by reality. Imagination is the world of children. Nothing is too grand or impossible. Of course there's a God. Why wouldn't there be? Of course He can be everywhere at once. Why not? He can do anything, so of course He can heal my dog. Growing up makes us cynical.

Oh, to Be a Child Again!
Children are humbly proud. The Bible condemns pride--that is, self-serving pride. Children are proud in the opposite way. They may be so proud of a pet turtle that they will show it to everyone. They hope even a stranger on the street will enjoy their turtle with them. Adults, on the other hand, are proud of a rare painting they have acquired, and they modestly display it to a privileged few so that they will praise them for their wealth and taste. After a successful piano recital a child is proud because they made people proud who are important to them. A gifted concert pianist is proud because their talent is praised. A child immediately forgets their performance; an adult relishes it for days. We want more.

Children forgive and forget instantaneously. A child can go from crying to smiling in a single breath. Being angry takes time. Children know there's little enough life to enjoy without wasting it on grudges.

Adults spend much of their so-called "quality" time with children, breaking them of bad habits. Often it's for the sake of crucial discipline, but often it's not. "Color in the lines." "Hurry up or you will be late." "Don't do that here, it's not proper." "Don't touch that, you might break it." "Big boys don't cry."

Children aren't always angels in white. Their halos slip, and they require discipline and learning. But according to Jesus, neither do we gain a white robe at age 21. Much of what we learn growing up, it seems, we would do better not learning.

Of course, one might say that the only reason children can be children is that they have responsible adults looking out for them. After all, adults could also be as carefree, happy, and irresponsible as children if we had someone looking out for us.

Oh yeah, we do have Someone. And He said, "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

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Jeff Scoggins is a Global Mission field secretary for the Euro-Asia Division.