Thinking Theologically With A Four Year Old

If you want to really do some good practical theology, grab your favorite four year old. That's what I did over break. My sister, who is also my goddaughter, is four. And she and I did some good theology together.
"And a little child shall lead them" (Is 9:2). 
"Jessica, Jessica, will you read my Bible to me?" she asked with excitement, and ran and grabbed the white Beginner's Bible my parents gave me the Christmas after I turned five. It was the first Bible I ever had, and when I imagine Jesus sometimes I still think of that cartoon drawing-- Jesus wide-eyed and friendly, clad in royal purple, beautiful and alive.
We read about Adam and Eve, and my sister gasped after Eve took the fruit. "She shouldn't do that!" my sister exclaimed. 
When was the last time I gasped aloud at Scripture? 
"Truly, I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matt 18:3)
We read the Nativity story, since Christmas was approaching. "And Gabriel, the angel..." I began. "What's an angel?" my sister interrupted me. I, the amateur theologian, was taken aback. "Well," I stammered, "they're like God's helpers."
When we got to the journey to Bethlehem, with the picture of Joseph walking and Mary on the camel, my sister asked why they weren't driving. "They didn't have cars back then," I said, smiling. "But Joseph's feet will hurt!" she said. 
Yes, surely they did. And I had never thought of it.
"I want to read more stories with girls in them," my sister whined as she flipped through the colorful children's Bible. There she is, I thought with fierce pride, my budding little feminist!
The night I got back, over rich lasagna and ice cold, expensive milk, my mother said the other day my sister was in my room and picked up one of my books and announced, "Jessica really likes God's word." 
Oh, my lovely sister, I pray I will become half of what I am in your eyes. 
On Christmas Eve, my sister joined me in my room as I wrapped Christmas gifts for other family members. I put on some Bing Crosby Christmas hymns-- don't judge; he should be required Christmas listening for everyone at any age. Anyway, bent over the wrap-- isn't wrapping gifts a horrible chore? shouldn't Gift Wrapping 101 be a college course?-- I murmured along with Bing, "Do you hear what I hear?"
"What?" my sister asked with exasperation. "What do you hear?"
What, indeed. That, too, a parable.
Another day, we are doing our makeup together. Don't worry; I don't actually apply makeup to my little princess. We just pretend-- although I suspect she really thinks she is getting a makeover. One of my favorite hymns is "Stand Up, Stand Up For Jesus," and whenever she needs to stand up to let me tie her shoe or brush her hair or put on her jacket, I belt out, "Stand up, stand up for Jesus!" and she stands up! So as she stands up to dig through my makeup bag on the counter, she sings, "Stand up, stand up for Jesus! He sees you when you're sleeping; he knows when you're awake."
Grinning so broadly I disturbed my recently applied lipgloss, I asked my sister, "Who are you singing about?"
"Jesus!" she exclaimed, and continued to sing these lines loudly, proudly. May we all sing with my sister's exuberance and budding faith the glory of our God, who out of the mouths of babes ordained his praise. 
Another thing about my sister? Her middle name is Grace.