I Never Had to Trade Wonder for Wisdom
Recently I was watching Peter Pan with my daughter.
I have to admit, it’s one of my favorite movies.
I’ve always loved Neverland. I love Tinker Bell. Honestly, the entire Tinker Bell series is probably my favorite thing Disney has ever made.
But this time, a particular scene stood out to me….
It’s the scene where Wendy’s father tells her it’s time to grow up.
She can no longer sleep in the nursery with her younger brothers.
It’s time for her to move into a room of her own.
It’s a small moment, but it stirred something in me.
Because if I’m honest, that’s what much of my life has felt like.
A constant message from the world saying:
“Hurry up and grow up.”
Stop wondering.
Stop dreaming.
Stop asking questions.
Stop being so imaginative.
Stop being so childlike.
Be realistic.
Be responsible.
Be mature.
And while some of that is true, something in me always resisted it.
Not because I didn’t want to mature.
But because I didn’t want to lose the parts of me that felt most alive.
The parts of me that still gasp when the moon looks impossibly big.
The parts of me that stop to watch a butterfly.
The parts of me that ask questions.
The parts of me that believe God still does impossible things.
The parts of me that can spend an hour daydreaming with Jesus and somehow walk away feeling more alive than before.
The parts of me that still see wonder everywhere.
For a long time, I assumed those things were signs of immaturity.
That growing spiritually meant becoming more serious.
More certain.
Less curious.
Less playful.
But the older I get, the more I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve confused maturity with seriousness.
As if growing up means becoming less curious.
Less imaginative.
Less easily delighted.
As if the goal is to become efficient, productive, and sensible at all times.
For a long time, I thought that was maturity .
Now I’m not so sure.
Because when I read the Gospels, Jesus doesn’t seem interested in making people less childlike.
If anything, He seems to be inviting them back into it.
He talks about children.
He talks about seeds.
He talks about birds.
He talks about food.
He talks about treasure hidden in fields.
He tells people not to worry about tomorrow.
He attends weddings.
He makes breakfast for His friends.
He seems surprisingly comfortable with wonder.
He talks about ordinary things in ways that make us…wonder
One of the first poems in my book Barefoot is called I Used to Dream of Heaven.
In it I wrote:
"What if He's still the same God
Of puddles and peanut butter
Of belly laughs around the kitchen table
And bedtime prayers so long
They'd put us to sleep?
So I open my hands
As a child again
And ask
Can I see You like that still?
Even here?
Even now?"
As a child, wonder came naturally.
I believed God was near.
I believed He listened.
I believed He cared.
Then life happened.
And before I knew it, wonder had quietly been replacd by worry.
Curiosity had been replaced by caution.
Presence had been replaced by pressure.
As the years went by, I started treating wonder like something I was supposed to outgrow.
Like it belonged to childhood.
Like maturity meant having answers instead of questions.
Like wisdom meant certainty instead of curiosity.
And seriousness started feeling spiritual.
So without realizing it, I began leaving pieces of myself behind.
But the more I got to know Jesus, the more I realized He wasn’t asking me to leave those things behind.
He was inviting me back into them.
Not childish.
Childlike.
Full of trust.
Full of awe.
Full of curiosity.
The kind of faith that notices the moon and stops to stare.
The kind of faith that asks questions.
The kind of faith that believes God is here with me now in this very moment.
I used to think I had to choose between wonder and wisdom.
Now I know better.
I never had to trade wonder for wisdom.
They walk hand in hand.
Rediscover Wonder
If you’ve been feeling the tension between growing up and holding onto childlike faith, you’re not alone.
I created a free guide called Wonder to help you slow down, reconnect with your curiosity, and explore life with Jesus again.
Inside you’ll find simple journal invitations designed to help you lay down pressure, ask honest questions, and rediscover the freedom of childlike faith.
