A Passing Grade

But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.  —Mark 10:14

Recently someone asked me if there was one accomplishment I was especially proud of. Easy, the 63 percent I got on my final sight-reading exam for singing, which allowed me to pass the course and continue in my music degree. I took that 63 percent, put a sticker on it, and displayed it proudly on our dorm fridge. My classmates did not understand my pride; it was not a good mark. In my program, 70 percent was a pass for core subjects; for music subjects, 60 percent was a pass and 61 was a pity pass. A 63 meant that you earned that grade all on your own. My roommate got 100 on that exam. “Just memorize the notes,” she would say to me. “That won’t work,” I’d argue, “it’s the relationship between the notes that gets me.” 

It was truly my best mark ever, even though there have been times when I literally received the best possible mark. Sometimes good is subjective. 

When I think about my own faith journey, I often wrestle with this question of good. How do I know that I am being a good Christian? What is a passing grade for discipleship? What is the marking rubric? And how much does it change in certain situations and contexts? We can all name markers of Christian success that have been shared, or sold, or told to us. Markers that we have strived towards and markers that we have weakened against. And as worship leaders, no matter the context, we are often expected to be at the top of the class. 

But I worry: good grades don’t always mean good. 

When Jesus was asked to defend his ministry, he didn’t present a polished rubric or report card. Jesus defended his ministry and proved his credibility through relationships. In the case of this beloved passage from Mark, Jesus literally centred children, who, after women, were the most affected by the divorce customs that were being discussed prior to this famous invitation to “let the children come.” And the children came to Jesus. In my imagination, the children trusted him, felt loved by him, and wanted to be with him. This was the only defence that Jesus needed. 

I am convinced that, in the end, our credibility and impact as followers of Christ will not be a stunning report card highlighting the programs we ran, the grandeur of our acts of charity, or the glorious high notes of our ministries. Our credibility and impact will be measured by the relationships we have formed: whom we have broken bread with, whom we have reconciled with, and how the people who are most deeply affected by the brokenness of the world describe us and feel about us.  

It’s not the sort of test we can ever pass on our own, because it is about relationships, the spaces between us. 

Thanks be to God, 

Alydia 

Alydia Smith, Program Coordinator, Worship, Music, and Spirituality