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A little child shall lead them

Brian Inkster

Two thousand years ago, a baby named Jesus arrived in Bethlehem. His influence was still strong 100 years ago, in the 20th century’s pre-infancy. Then the myth of progress – bolstered by astounding technological achievements and Darwinist notions of nature as inherently self-improving – created a wave of dreamy optimism about humanity’s capacity to master history and create heaven on earth. In fact, one writer decreed that the 20th would be “the Christian century.” Now, as this most complex and violent century dies and another begins, another writer has termed it “the worst yet”. The “Christian century” has seen more Christians martyred than all other centuries combined.

But the worst also brought out the best. Where there is sin and crime, there is also Christ, who shares all suffering and restores all hope, creating a new future as fresh as any newborn’s. That is why Jesus likened participation in His life to being born again. To live in Christ, in any circumstance, is to know His best even in the worst of times. It is to live as a beloved child, in all the vulnerability, dependence, wonder and possibility of infancy.

Pierre Allard recalled a powerful chapel service at Archambault prison, the maximum security facility near Montreal where he served as chaplain over 20 years ago. He and his wife Judy were the delighted parents of a newborn baby girl. Pierre thought it would be wonderful to bring the child into a chapel service. The next Sunday, Pierre, Judy and the baby waited in the chapel as the prisoners were being brought down for the service. The men filed in, taking their places in chairs that lined the walls in a big circle. When everybody was in, Pierre and Judy stepped into this circle of toughened cons and presented their little one. They were unprepared for what followed. All around them, eyes that had seen the worst of life, death and violation, stared in amazement at this newest little life still untouched by the world. The room went silent. Then one man asked if he could hold the child. Pierre passed the baby into the prisoner’s hands, and so began a quiet miracle. Many of these men had not so much as seen a baby in years, much less held one. Soon the tiny form was making a slow journey from man to man, all the way around the hushed circle. The presence of that helpless baby reached the men’s hearts with the power of almighty God. Each prisoner gently held her, and then quietly passed her to the next man, sharing the gift. They were all transfixed in wonder, gratitude and longing, and for at least that one holy moment, a little child led them toward the heart of God (Isaiah 11:6).

Each of the prisoners had started out as a baby, innocent, vulnerable and full of possibility. Each also had missed the hopeful path and could look back on years that had disappointed the early promise – just as our century promised so much and disappointed so deeply those who put their faith in human progress. And just as all prisoners start out as innocent newborns, so they all long for a fresh start.

Prisoners do not need a “Christian century” with its lie of infallible human progress. They need a Christian community filled with fallible brothers and sisters whom Christ saves. They need a new life forever in the One who knew them from eternity. They need to accept the “wondrous gift” of a baby – because all the peace we seek today, and all the redemptive possibility the future affords, resides in the power of Him who arrived as an innocent baby among us prisoners of sin 2,000 years ago. That child’s story, which sets all captives free, is that God loved us enough to relieve us of our worst, to relieve us with His best (John 3:16).

Brian Inkster is Executive Director of Prison Fellowship Canada. This article is reprinted, with permission, from the Christmas 1999 issue of Jubilee, the PFC newsletter.

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Last modified December 6, 2000.

© 2000 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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