June 16th, 2026
by Matthew Spoon
by Matthew Spoon
The Mission Field We Look Down On
There's something profoundly countercultural about the way Jesus viewed children. In a world that often sees young people as distractions, interruptions, or simply "the next generation" to worry about later, Scripture presents us with a radically different perspective—one that challenges us to reconsider who we prioritize and what we can learn from the smallest among us. Children are quite literally the mission field all around us if we just look down.
When Disciples Became Gatekeepers
Picture the scene in Mark 10:13-16. Parents are bringing their children to Jesus, hoping for a blessing. It's a reasonable request—rabbis often blessed children in that culture. But the disciples, perhaps thinking they're protecting Jesus from unnecessary interruptions, begin turning families away. After all, Jesus has important work to do. He has theology to teach, people to heal, kingdoms to explain. Surely children can wait.
But Jesus doesn't see it that way. In fact, Scripture tells us he became "greatly displeased"—a phrase that could be translated as having a righteous anger. The disciples thought they were helping. Instead, they had become spiritual gatekeepers, standing between seeking hearts and a Savior with open arms.
Jesus' response is clear and uncompromising: "Let the little children come to me, and do not forbid them, for of such is the kingdom of God."
The Mission Field We Overlook
We often think of mission fields as distant places—overseas destinations requiring passports and long flights. And yes, those fields exist and matter deeply. But what if one of the ripest mission fields is much closer? What if it's in our homes, our neighborhoods, our churches?
Consider the story of Thomas Bernardo, a 19th-century medical student preparing for missionary work in China. While training in London during the Industrial Revolution, he encountered thousands of orphaned children living on the streets—children society called "gutter children," viewing them as eyesores and criminal threats.
One night, a street boy named Jim Jarvis led Bernardo to a rooftop where eleven children huddled under a single blanket, freezing. In that moment, Bernardo made a life-altering decision. He canceled his trip to China and adopted a radical motto: "No destitute child ever refused admission."
Critics told him he was wasting his medical talent on children who would only grow up to be thieves. By the time he died, his ministry had rescued, educated, and discipled over 60,000 children.
Bernardo understood something crucial: the mission field isn't always where we expect it to be. Sometimes we just need to look down.
What Children Teach Us About the Kingdom
Jesus doesn't just tell us to prioritize children—he tells us to become like them. "Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."
This isn't a call to be childish or immature. It's an invitation to embrace childlike dependency and trust.
Think about how a child approaches their parents. They don't come with a resume or a list of achievements. They don't negotiate or bargain. When they're hungry, they simply say, "I'm hungry," with complete expectation that their parent will provide. They come with empty hands, open and dependent.
Or consider the trust a child displays when their father throws them in the air. There's no calculation, no backup plan—just pure, joyful confidence that they'll be caught. They might climb up on something and jump without warning, absolutely certain that mom or dad will be there.
This is the posture God desires from us. Not self-sufficiency, but radical dependency. Not closed fists clutching our achievements and accolades, but open hands ready to receive.
By the time we reach adulthood, we've accumulated so much—resumes, accomplishments, status, possessions. We come to God with full arms, trying to embrace Him while still holding onto everything else. But we cannot fully embrace Jesus with closed fists. We must put it all down.
What do we have that Jesus doesn't already have? What can we offer Him except a grateful heart for what He's already done?
The gospel isn't a wage we earn with good behavior. It's a gift we receive like a child with empty hands.
The Posture of Embrace
Mark 10:16 gives us a beautiful image: "And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them."
Jesus didn't wave from a distance. He didn't give a quick nod of acknowledgment. He embraced these children. He held them. He blessed them personally and intimately.
This is the heart of the Great Commission—not just telling people about Jesus from afar, but engaging personally, planting seeds that can grow into lifetime faithfulness. When Jesus commanded us to "go and make disciples of all nations," He didn't add age restrictions. Children make up nations too.
D.L. Moody, one of history's greatest evangelists, once reflected: "If I could give my life over again, I would give it to the children." Coming from someone who accomplished so much in ministry, this statement carries tremendous weight.
Removing the Barriers
Perhaps the most sobering aspect of this passage is recognizing how easily we can become like those disciples—spiritual gatekeepers who unintentionally stand between people and their Savior.
We might think: "They're too young to really understand." Or "They're too far gone." Or "Their lifestyle doesn't fit." Or "They need to clean themselves up first."
But Jesus stands with arms wide open, saying simply, "Let them come."
Our calling isn't to be gatekeepers but more like air traffic controllers—people with bright lights pointing the way, saying, "Over here! Here's Jesus!"
Living the Mission
The truth is, every craft we make, every game we play, every snack we serve, every conversation we have with a child represents a mission field ripe for harvest. We're not just creating fun experiences—we're planting seeds for eternal transformation.
Children today face more than just "kid problems." Many carry brokenness, anxiety, and burdens far too heavy for their age. They desperately need to see Jesus—not just hear about Him, but see Him reflected in the arms of His people.
Psalm 127:3 reminds us: "Children are a heritage from the Lord, the offspring a reward from him." They're not distractions or interruptions. They're rewards. They're the kingdom itself.
The Invitation
So what does this mean for us today?
It means prioritizing the children in our sphere of influence—our own kids, grandchildren, neighborhood children, the children who walk through our church doors.
It means approaching God ourselves with childlike faith—open hands, humble hearts, complete dependency.
It means pursuing the Great Commission right where we are, recognizing that the mission field might be closer than we think.
And it means never, ever becoming a barrier between someone and their Savior.
May we be a people who say with Jesus, "Let them come." And may we come ourselves with the same childlike trust, ready to be embraced by a God whose arms are always open wide.
There's something profoundly countercultural about the way Jesus viewed children. In a world that often sees young people as distractions, interruptions, or simply "the next generation" to worry about later, Scripture presents us with a radically different perspective—one that challenges us to reconsider who we prioritize and what we can learn from the smallest among us. Children are quite literally the mission field all around us if we just look down.
When Disciples Became Gatekeepers
Picture the scene in Mark 10:13-16. Parents are bringing their children to Jesus, hoping for a blessing. It's a reasonable request—rabbis often blessed children in that culture. But the disciples, perhaps thinking they're protecting Jesus from unnecessary interruptions, begin turning families away. After all, Jesus has important work to do. He has theology to teach, people to heal, kingdoms to explain. Surely children can wait.
But Jesus doesn't see it that way. In fact, Scripture tells us he became "greatly displeased"—a phrase that could be translated as having a righteous anger. The disciples thought they were helping. Instead, they had become spiritual gatekeepers, standing between seeking hearts and a Savior with open arms.
Jesus' response is clear and uncompromising: "Let the little children come to me, and do not forbid them, for of such is the kingdom of God."
The Mission Field We Overlook
We often think of mission fields as distant places—overseas destinations requiring passports and long flights. And yes, those fields exist and matter deeply. But what if one of the ripest mission fields is much closer? What if it's in our homes, our neighborhoods, our churches?
Consider the story of Thomas Bernardo, a 19th-century medical student preparing for missionary work in China. While training in London during the Industrial Revolution, he encountered thousands of orphaned children living on the streets—children society called "gutter children," viewing them as eyesores and criminal threats.
One night, a street boy named Jim Jarvis led Bernardo to a rooftop where eleven children huddled under a single blanket, freezing. In that moment, Bernardo made a life-altering decision. He canceled his trip to China and adopted a radical motto: "No destitute child ever refused admission."
Critics told him he was wasting his medical talent on children who would only grow up to be thieves. By the time he died, his ministry had rescued, educated, and discipled over 60,000 children.
Bernardo understood something crucial: the mission field isn't always where we expect it to be. Sometimes we just need to look down.
What Children Teach Us About the Kingdom
Jesus doesn't just tell us to prioritize children—he tells us to become like them. "Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."
This isn't a call to be childish or immature. It's an invitation to embrace childlike dependency and trust.
Think about how a child approaches their parents. They don't come with a resume or a list of achievements. They don't negotiate or bargain. When they're hungry, they simply say, "I'm hungry," with complete expectation that their parent will provide. They come with empty hands, open and dependent.
Or consider the trust a child displays when their father throws them in the air. There's no calculation, no backup plan—just pure, joyful confidence that they'll be caught. They might climb up on something and jump without warning, absolutely certain that mom or dad will be there.
This is the posture God desires from us. Not self-sufficiency, but radical dependency. Not closed fists clutching our achievements and accolades, but open hands ready to receive.
By the time we reach adulthood, we've accumulated so much—resumes, accomplishments, status, possessions. We come to God with full arms, trying to embrace Him while still holding onto everything else. But we cannot fully embrace Jesus with closed fists. We must put it all down.
What do we have that Jesus doesn't already have? What can we offer Him except a grateful heart for what He's already done?
The gospel isn't a wage we earn with good behavior. It's a gift we receive like a child with empty hands.
The Posture of Embrace
Mark 10:16 gives us a beautiful image: "And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them."
Jesus didn't wave from a distance. He didn't give a quick nod of acknowledgment. He embraced these children. He held them. He blessed them personally and intimately.
This is the heart of the Great Commission—not just telling people about Jesus from afar, but engaging personally, planting seeds that can grow into lifetime faithfulness. When Jesus commanded us to "go and make disciples of all nations," He didn't add age restrictions. Children make up nations too.
D.L. Moody, one of history's greatest evangelists, once reflected: "If I could give my life over again, I would give it to the children." Coming from someone who accomplished so much in ministry, this statement carries tremendous weight.
Removing the Barriers
Perhaps the most sobering aspect of this passage is recognizing how easily we can become like those disciples—spiritual gatekeepers who unintentionally stand between people and their Savior.
We might think: "They're too young to really understand." Or "They're too far gone." Or "Their lifestyle doesn't fit." Or "They need to clean themselves up first."
But Jesus stands with arms wide open, saying simply, "Let them come."
Our calling isn't to be gatekeepers but more like air traffic controllers—people with bright lights pointing the way, saying, "Over here! Here's Jesus!"
Living the Mission
The truth is, every craft we make, every game we play, every snack we serve, every conversation we have with a child represents a mission field ripe for harvest. We're not just creating fun experiences—we're planting seeds for eternal transformation.
Children today face more than just "kid problems." Many carry brokenness, anxiety, and burdens far too heavy for their age. They desperately need to see Jesus—not just hear about Him, but see Him reflected in the arms of His people.
Psalm 127:3 reminds us: "Children are a heritage from the Lord, the offspring a reward from him." They're not distractions or interruptions. They're rewards. They're the kingdom itself.
The Invitation
So what does this mean for us today?
It means prioritizing the children in our sphere of influence—our own kids, grandchildren, neighborhood children, the children who walk through our church doors.
It means approaching God ourselves with childlike faith—open hands, humble hearts, complete dependency.
It means pursuing the Great Commission right where we are, recognizing that the mission field might be closer than we think.
And it means never, ever becoming a barrier between someone and their Savior.
May we be a people who say with Jesus, "Let them come." And may we come ourselves with the same childlike trust, ready to be embraced by a God whose arms are always open wide.
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