By Jennifer Greene-Sullivan
Monday afternoon, Chris, Liam, and I visited our favorite local Mexican restaurant, La Cabana. Liam’s summer lunch order rarely changes. He loves the G Special Chicken, and over the past few months, our lunch outings have become one of my favorite parts of summer break.
After we finished eating, Liam and I settled into a pair of chairs on the front porch while Chris visited with some of his farming friends. The afternoon breeze drifted through the shade, and I sat quietly waiting to see where our conversation might lead.
I didn’t have to wait long.
“Mama, I have an issue I need to talk about,” Liam said. Then, without missing a beat, he continued, “But what I should do is take it directly to God.”
Before I could respond, Liam bowed his head.
“Father, I need help. I miss my Papaw and need to see him. Please help me with this situation now. Amen.”
Chris’ biological father works in Chattanooga during the week. Over the past several months, we had not seen or spoken with him very much. Liam missed him terribly.
“I come into agreement,” I replied.
Then we returned to our tiny house office on Frank Cook Road and continued with the day.
Forty-five minutes later, I heard a squeal. Liam flew past my office window and sprinted toward the driveway as fast as his legs would carry him. Curious, I looked outside to see what had caused such excitement.
There, pulling into the driveway as pretty as you please, was Papaw.
As I watched Liam wrap his arms around his grandfather, I thought about James 5:16: “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working,” (ESV). Scripture does not teach that our own goodness makes us righteous; rather, our righteousness comes through Jesus Christ. Because of Him, we can boldly approach the Father with confidence, trusting that He hears us when we pray.
What struck me most was not that Liam prayed; it was that he didn’t wait.
He didn’t wait until bedtime. He didn’t wait until church. He didn’t wait for my opinion or advice. He simply took his concern directly to God and trusted Him with the outcome.
Yesterday, Liam reminded me of that same faith again.
On the way home from the shop, he announced from the backseat that he needed to preach. I smiled and settled in for the ride. What followed sounded less like a nine-year-old boy and more like a narrator reading the script of an epic movie.
Beginning with Noah and continuing through generations of biblical history, Liam moved effortlessly through God’s story. He spoke about kings, prophets, and miracles before arriving at the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. I listened quietly, amazed by the detail and conviction behind every word.
Then, he grew silent for a moment.
Finally, he said, “Do you know why Jesus’ first miracle was at the wedding at Cana? Because what He has done for us is prepare a table—no, a feast at the groom’s table. We are the new wine as members of the Body of Christ, and as the Bride of Christ, I am going to sit at the wedding feast beside the Father, Jesus, my Jimmy Mac, and Mamaw. Will you have a place at the table?”
Tears immediately filled my eyes.
My daddy, Jimmy Mac, died two weeks before Liam was born. Judy, the grandmother Liam affectionately calls Mamaw, passed away several years ago. She loved generously, smelled wonderful, and welcomed everyone with her sweet Tennessee accent and Southern hospitality. Liam never had the opportunity to know either of them the way I did, yet his faith leaves room for eternity.
As I listened, I realized that Liam’s faith is not rooted in wishful thinking. It is rooted in Jesus. He believes God hears prayer, and Liam believes Scripture is true. Ultimately, he believes the promises of God extend beyond today and reach all the way into eternity.
Jesus said we must become like little children to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Perhaps part of that childlike faith is believing what our Father says before we fully understand it. Childlike faith trusts His promises without demanding proof. Childlike faith simply takes Him at His Word.
As I listened to Liam talk about Papaw, Jimmy Mac, Mamaw, Jesus, and a heavenly banquet, I realized something. At forty-eight years old, I am still learning from a little boy sitting in the backseat of my truck. I have failed more times than I can count. I have worried when I should have trusted, spoken when I should have listened, and occasionally made a mess of things despite my best intentions.
Yet God, in His kindness, continues to show me Jesus through the eyes of my last baby and the sweet spirit He placed within him. Through Liam’s simple prayers and unwavering faith, I am reminded that the Father is still listening, still working, and still worthy of trust. The same God who answers a little boy’s prayer for his Papaw is the same God who prepares a place at His table for all who belong to Him.
Thankfully, I have experienced one of the hidden gifts of parenthood. We spend years believing we are teaching our children, only to discover that God is using them to teach us. This week, a little boy’s faith reminded me to pray first, trust more deeply, and believe God’s promises with the confidence of a child.
Because of my little boy’s faith, I am still learning to fly.
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