When my daughter, Alex, was in second grade, she attended Sudduth Elementary School in Starkville, Mississippi. She was there for Kindergarten and First Grade as well, and I have such fond memories of that season. But there is a morning from her second grade school year that is forever seared into my memory. I walked her to the classroom because, of course., it was necessary that I park and come inside. Why would I want to enjoy the conveniences of the carpool line, especially at 7:30 a.m.? Some kids are just high maintenance like that. My son, on the other hand, would have let me drop him at the nearest street corner.
Now, back to that early morning as I walked the halls of Sudduth Elementary. I heard the buzzing of the intercom and then the office lady began her weekly announcement. You see, at Sudduth, there was a new Star Student every week from every single classroom in the school. So, on Friday mornings, she would dutifully (and cheerfully) call out the names of each and every Star Student for that week. She would begin with the name of the Homeroom teacher so that those students were on the edge of their seats, anticipating who would be recognized from their posse. And each time a student’s name was called, a resounding ovation could be heard from that corner of the campus, reaching every nook and cranny of the school.
As I pondered what was happening, I realized that entire classes were breaking out in clamorous celebration when their Star Student was announced. There was only one winner, but there was unanimous delight. And suddenly it struck me–the beauty of childhood innocence. To be honest, my first thought was, “Why are they all so happy when only one of them hit the jackpot?” That’s how we adults think once we’ve been immersed in this culture of self-centeredness. It seems to bring out the sinful nature in us that cries out for attention and acclamation. But these kids had not yet been tainted by pride, and so they were absolutely content to celebrate the success of another as if it was their own. When that name echoed over the sound system, no one stopped to ask, “Why her?” or “Why not me?” Those kind of questions are reserved for us grown-ups who are still enslaved to our egos–desperate to be validated by the approval of others. Could it be that when Jesus said we need to become like children to participate in His Kingdom, this was one of the multitude of reasons?