Thinking about Melchior, as I often do. I think about his little hands and feet, about the way he'll scream and cry in the beginning, and we won't understand a thing he says, yet we'll love his little heart out anyway. We'll coo and shush and tend to his every need and want, even when we don't know what they are. We'll love him before he can speak, and even when he decides to voice his opinions at 3 am, we'll love him then, too.
But then I realized--because of this whole idea of original sin, we believe that he is fallen and broken, a sinner just like the rest of us.
It's a little hard to think of Melchior as a sinner. All he'll do for the first year is wave his little arms and feet, cry and poop. None of those are inherently sinful, right?
But we believe that all of creation is infected with sin. It's inescapable.
I'm sure our little angel will do something wrong in his life. At some point he'll break something and pretend it wasn't him. He'll pull the cat's tail or act like he didn't hear one of his parents admonishing him. He'll stay out too late and lie about having done his homework.
But it's hard to believe that he's sinful, innocent babe that he will be.
Of course, it's hard to believe that Christ died with me on his mind, too. It's hard to believe that I am worthy of such impressive grace. And surely, if I am worthy of such amazing grace and love, Melchior is, too. For there is more than enough grace, more than enough love, to cover our sins. And he, too, is redeemed by the blood of the lamb, a child of the covenant, a child of God. So I shall not be depressed thinking about his fallenness--rather I shall celebrate that he belongs to God.
that I'd recommend. It's simple and strips away a lot of the complexity that we pastors often like to add to the spiritual life. Rather than trying to guilt Christians into half an hour devotions each morning, noon and night, Fields has a three step process: 1) Stop, 2) Be Quiet, and 3) Connect with God. That's it. It can be as simple or as complicated as you like, take thirty seconds, thirty minutes or thirty hours. It depends on the reader, but it's geared towards those who have too much to do and feel drained. It's a way to help recognize God in our midst, a way to help us find the restorative grace that surrounds us, that we have often shut out by our own stubborn desires to do this on our own.
It's an interesting look at what is probably one of the most disregarded aspects of American family life. The family meal is often thrown out the window like so many used fast-food cups as family life roars down the freeway at full speed, desperate to make it to the next soccer practice, violin recital or play date. Weinstein is urging us to slow down and eat together, not just for our sanity, but for the sake of our children as well. 
