When I think of the Savior’s words, “Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3–4), I feel that there is a profound call that echoes through all ages. It is as if Jesus Christ were whispering in my ear that, in the midst of responsibilities, achievements, titles, and struggles of adult life, I must never forget that true greatness is found in humility, in purity, and in the simple trust that a child places in his father.
For years I thought that growing up meant moving away from childhood, leaving behind what was naïve and fragile. Today I understand that the gospel invites me to something else: to recover, in my mature life, the purest virtues of childhood. It is not about being childish or irresponsible, but about being humble, teachable, full of love, without pride, without guile, without masks.
King Benjamin expressed it with great power in Mosiah 3:19: “For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”
Here lies the heart of discipleship: overcoming the natural man and becoming like a child. The natural man seeks to control, to dominate, to impose. The child, instead, trusts, allows himself to be taught, obeys with love. When pride dominates me, when I want to do things my way, I remember this scripture and realize that I need to kneel again like a child before my Heavenly Father, willing to accept His will.
One of the most tender scenes in all scripture is in 3 Nephi 17. Jesus, in the Americas, after teaching and healing, asks that the children be brought to Him. Then He prays with such power that the words cannot be written. He weeps, and then He blesses the little ones. They are surrounded by heavenly fire, and angels descend from heaven to minister to them. What was it that moved the Savior so deeply? I am convinced it was the purity of those little ones, the simplicity of their hearts. Adults carry burdens, resentments, guilt, appearances. Children come clean, trusting, pure. That same purity is what the Savior wants to restore in us.
The wise preacher in Ecclesiastes wrote: “Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2). And how true that is. Adults get entangled in vanities: competing over who has more, obsessing over appearances, craving recognition. In the end, all of that fades. None of those things bring peace to the soul. Peace comes from living with the simplicity of a child who falls asleep trusting that his Father is watching over him.
Lehi and Nephi saw that great and spacious building that represents the pride of the world. It is described as being full of “vain imaginations and the pride of the children of men” (1 Nephi 12:18; 2 Nephi 26:10). There are those who mock, who point the finger, who believe they know more than everyone else, who feel self-sufficient. That building has no foundation, but it looks attractive. What a contrast to a child, who does not need to pretend, who simply trusts, who lives without masks. The vision reminds us that pride destroys, but humility saves.
Alma, when he observed the Zoramites in Alma 31:27, saw that “they cry unto thee with their mouths, while they are puffed up … with the vain things of the world.” That is the empty prayer, the mechanical prayer, without sincerity. How many times, as an adult, have I felt the temptation to pray with eloquent words but without heart? And in contrast, I remember the simple prayer of a child: “Thank you for my food, thank you for my mom, thank you for my dad, bless my dog.” That prayer, though simple, rises with power to heaven, because it is honest, pure, true.
But the gospel does not only call us to look at children; it calls us to be like them. I think of the story of Easton Darrin Jolley, a young boy with muscular dystrophy who could barely walk, and yet wanted to fulfill his duty of passing the sacrament. He did not seek recognition, he only wanted to serve and, above all, to present the tray to his own father, the bishop. With great effort, he climbed the steps of the pulpit, step by step, as if he were climbing his own Mount Everest. His motivation was not applause, but love. In that act, he himself seemed to echo the words of Jesus in John 17:4: “I have glorified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do.” That is the spirit of a child: to want to please his father, to fulfill his duty with love, without worrying about the opinion of others.
Life would be different if we were all like children. There would be less resentment, less hatred, less war. Children forgive quickly, love unconditionally, trust without hesitation. They show us what our relationship with God should be: pure, trusting, simple.
The challenge of adulthood is that the world robs us of that innocence: we become cynical, distrustful, proud. But every time I pray with simplicity, every time I trust God without understanding everything, every time I forgive sincerely, I feel that something of that spiritual childhood returns to me. Being like a child is learning to see God in the everyday, to marvel at the simple, to laugh without fear, to cry without shame, to live with a clean heart.
Jesus taught us this path not only with words, but with His own life. He submitted completely to the will of the Father. In Gethsemane He said three times: “Not my will, but thine, be done.” He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and He did not open His mouth in complaint. He was the perfect Son, humble and obedient unto death. The greatest of all became the most humble of all, to save us.
Being like children is not a minor detail in the gospel; it is the very center of discipleship. Without humility there is no heaven. Without trust there is no peace. Without purity there is no revelation. And without sincere love there is no likeness to Christ.
That is why, as I review these scriptures, I find a spiritual map: Matthew teaches me the condition of the kingdom. Mosiah shows me how to overcome the natural man. 3 Nephi gives me the most beautiful vision of Christ’s love for children. Ecclesiastes reminds me not to get lost in vanity. Nephi warns me that the pride of the world has no foundation. Alma shows me that empty prayer is worthless without a pure heart. And John shows me that our ultimate mission is to glorify the Father.
I testify that in becoming like children, we draw closer to Christ. And I know that He, the most faithful and humble of all the sons of God, invites us to enter His kingdom with a pure and simple heart. That is the way.
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