Thanks Anyway . . .

Any bookstore manager can tell you that one of the most reliable customer types is the older woman with no children in the household (either never had them, or they’re grown) shopping for a children’s book.  I’m a grandma buyer myself and don’t want to misrepresent the breed, but I have a fairly experienced view of their modus operandi.  Christmas is coming; said relative heads for Mardel’s for a nice Christian book.  It’s another busy day and she feels rushed, so the full-face displays grab her attention first.  Oh yes, she’s heard of that title—and that’s one of her favorite authors—didn’t know he wrote children’s books, too!  A quick flip-through: nice pictures, Bible verses at the end; okay, this looks good.  Ring it up!

The temptation to give fuzzy self-affirming messages with soft-focus pictures is especially strong at Christmas time.  Here are a some you may see under the Christmas tree . . .

Heaven is For Real For Kids, by Todd and Colton Burpo, illustrated by Wilson Ong.  Thomas Nelson, 2011, 32 pages.  Age/interest level: 4-8.

Like far too many “intellectual” Christians, I am naturally inclined to indulge in snarky comments over what the smart set perceives as schmaltz.  This is pride on my part, and should be repented every time it pops up.  Also, I don’t like questioning another person’s spiritual experience.  There’s no doubt in my mind that Todd Burpo and his son Colton fully believe that when Colton was on the operating table at age four, fighting for his life, he went to heaven and came back.  Still . . .

A case can be made for skepticism.  Colton didn’t start talking about the experience until over a year later, and usually when some object or event prompted his memory.  So there’s at least a possibility that even if something supernatural happened to him on that operating table, he’s decked the memory with suggestions from his immediate surroundings, movies and TV, and his dad’s preaching.  Even though many of his allusions are biblical (streets of gold, gates of pearl, lions and lambs), they are also the sort of pictures an imaginative child could conjure up.  The illustrations of heaven’s inhabitants all in robes, with dashes of light over their heads suggesting halos, accord pretty well with what I would have visualized as a child.  The art, approved by Colton, is characterized by rich, fleshy tones and fuzzy outlines, like an especially vivid dream.  Children (do kids stay kids in heaven?) gambol with lions, Jesus rides a white horse with rainbow mane and tail, God the Father sits on a really big throne (we don’t see his face, but his body is clearly visible and very manlike).  A Bible reference on every two-page spread reinforces what Colton describes: Rev. 21:19, Matt. 17:2, John 14:2-3, Is. 11:6, Heb. 4:16, etc.  That seems to give unimpeachable authority to his memories.

But it’s all very literal.  I don’t believe that everything in the Bible must be spiritualized, but isn’t heaven supposed to be a bit beyond our imagination?  “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, [this] God has prepared for those who love him” (I Cor. 2:9, from Is. 64:4).  Why did Paul say he heard things in the third heaven that could not be understood here (II Cor. 12:4)?  Why does John say that “What we will be has not yet appeared” (I John 3:2)?  Colton says we can choose whether we want wings—what does the Bible say?  The acrylic angels in the book look like strong but nice men: nothing at all like the fierce, multiple visages of the seraphim as described in Revelation and Ezekiel.  That may be because seraphim are scary, but also because they’re very far beyond human experience.

So, what does it hurt?  The message, after all, is that “heaven is for real, and you’re going to like it!”  Don’t little children need to know that?  Of course they do, but there’s probably a reason why heaven is not described in detail in the Bible—we are incapable of imagining its full dimension, and a half-true picture ends up being a false picture.  It may comfort kids while they’re kids.  But they’re going to grow up some day, and their knowing friends and smug college professors will mock all warm and fuzzy assurances.  Then they may throw out Jesus with his supposed rainbow-tailed horse; such things happen.

Besides, some details are just plain wrong.  Where’s the justification for God and the Holy Spirit being shown in human shape?  Though God the Father metaphorically adopts human characteristics, He is not a man.  Thus the second commandment.  Christ is the Incarnate One, the bridge between man and the Godhead—that is why he is highly exalted and given the name above every name.  They are three persons, but it’s a mistake to visualize them as three people, however glowy.  Many of us carried some mental picture of God as an old man in the sky when we were kids, and some don’t grow out of it (see Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel).  But we’d better.

Both the adult and the kid versions of Heaven Is For Real are selling in the millions (movie deal in the works!) and likely to experience a further bump in sales this Christmas.  If I were a mother of little ones, and found it under my tree, I would thank the giver sweetly and put it on a very high shelf at the earliest opportunity.

You Are Special, by Max Lucado, illustrated by Sergio Martinez.  Crossway Books, 1997, 32 pages.  Age/interest level: 4-8.

Over a decade ago, Max Lucado wrote a series of children’s books about the Wemmicks, wooden puppets who live in Wemmicksville and who, like sheep, are continually going astray.  You Are Special is the first, in which the Wemmicks have developed a meritocracy in their little village.  When any of them excels at sports or the arts or pulls of a spectacular achievement, they are awarded a star.  But contrariwise, when anyone makes a mistake or trips over their own feet, they receive a dot.  The result is a class system, dots and stars, with the dots trying as hard as they can to get into the star class.

Little Punchinello is so loaded with dots he looks like a walking measle.  No matter how he tries he can’t catch up to the stars.  One day, in desperation, he makes his way to the house of Eli, the maker. Eli assures him that Punchinello is exactly what he had in mind when he made him.  The ungainly little puppet is loved as he is, not as he measures up to some external standard. And every time he remembers that, another dot will fall off.  The moral: you are special.

This is a sweet story, cleverly illustrated, with a lot of truth.  But I think the evidence is building that kids don’t really need training in self-esteem.  They cry when fingers are pointed at them, but that’s as likely because of pride as it may be of low regard: why don’t the other kids appreciate me?  Lucado is correct that our value is anchored in God’s unconditional love for us, but little kids may hear “He loves us just as we are” as “We’re okay just as we are.”  Not true.  I’m not saying it shouldn’t be read, but use caution—with this book, and with an older one which has recently been reprinted as a Christmas favorite:

The Crippled Lamb, by Max Lucado, illustrated by Liz Bonham.  Tommy Nelson, 1994, 30 pages.  Age/interest level: 3-7.

Not to beat up on Max Lucado (I’ll beat up on somebody else next year), but this story exemplifies the same problem as You Are Special.  Josh, the crippled little lamb, doesn’t get to go to the high meadow with the rest of the flock.  “You’re too slow,” they bleat at him, which makes him feel sad.  “Don’t be afraid, little Joshua,” comforts his bovine best friend, Abigail: “God has a special place for those who feel left out.”

Josh stays behind in the stable with Abigail and the other domestic animals.  But one cold night, he awakes to find his dwelling inhabited by humans.  There’s a woman—and a baby!  The baby is whimpering with cold; his mother is trying to cover him up but has no blankets.  Josh gets to his feet and limps over to lie down next to them, letting the warmth from his own wooly coat keep the baby warm.  Later that night, he overhears that this baby is a king.  A king!  Kept warm by a lowly lame lamb?  “You’re right,” he tells Abigail as the little family leaves the stable.  “God does have a special place for me.”

Another sweet story, with blurry dreamlike illustrations.  And our heartstrings tug at the thought of the poor juggler or peasant or drummer boy who is able to give one vital gift to the Christ child.  I’m not knocking that; Amahl and the Night Visitors chokes me up, and I love to see little children put their hard-earned nickels in the collection basket.  We mustn’t forget the widow’s mite.  Just notice where the story ends: me.  The theme is not Christ’s coming but how I feel about it, what I can do, where’s my special place.  Man-centeredness has always been the bane of the Evangelical church, now more than ever.  Of course we must make a personal response to Christ, but true response is impossible until we begin to grasp the enormity of who He is.

Does that have to wait for a more mature mind?  Not entirely; we just need to be on the lookout for children’s books that are truly Christ-centered.  Come back on Tuesday . . . .

Christ tends to be the center of everything, if you know how to look for him.  If you haven’t already, peruse Emily’s Christ in Literature posts, beginning here.  More insights into children’s picture books with God’s Little Princess and God’s Mighty Warrior.  And for some good, rule-of-thumb ideas about selecting children’s books, listen to our long-ago podcast with Tim Challies. 

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