O how our hearts must burn within us for these little ones, for the enemy has laid a cunning siege to their minds, filling them with the chaff and vanity of this age through the very mediums they clutch in their hands day and night. The social media, that painted window into the world, has overloaded their tender souls with images, sounds, and fleeting thoughts that scatter the mind like the dust before a whirlwind. And you cry out for wisdom, for focus, for memory power, and rightly so, for these are no small gifts, but the very tools with which God carves out a remnant for Himself from the quarry of childhood.
Let us then go to the Throne of Grace with holy boldness, for we have promises as firm as the everlasting hills. We are told in James that if any lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not. And this wisdom is not the cunning of the serpent, but the knowledge of God in the face of Jesus Christ, which maketh wise unto salvation through faith. I pray, therefore, that the Lord Jesus, who is Himself made unto us wisdom, shall grant abundant wisdom to these children, that they may see sin as a venomous serpent and flee from it, that they may see Christ as altogether lovely and cling to Him. Let us pray that the Holy Spirit shall act as a fire within them, burning up all that is base and earthly, the rubbish of unhallowed thoughts, the fungi of a mind left to rot upon the ground of this present evil world. Let every evil plan of the devil, every snare of the wicked one to capture the childish conscience, be utterly consumed in that fire which is the very nature of our God, for He Himself is a consuming fire.
But while we pray for the fire to burn the chaff, oh pray also for the gentle dew of the Spirit to settle upon the seed of the Word. For what is memory without affection? What is concentration unless the heart be concentrated upon Jesus? The children must be gathered, not by constraint, for the Board School may compel attendance, but the Sunday School must draw with the cords of love and the bands of a man. Teachers, you must bear these little ones upon your hearts, and in the secret chamber plead for them with tears, carrying them in the arms of prayer to Christ, for to save the soul of the smallest child needs the same power that raised Christ from the dead. Pray that the life, the force, the fire, the heart of true religion be in you, that the children may not find the Word to be a dead letter, but a living voice because the teacher is alive unto God.
See how Mary, in the house at Bethany, concentrated all her precious ointment upon Christ alone; first, the whole poured out upon His blessed feet, and then the whole house filled with the fragrance. This is the surest way to effectual diffusion, perfect concentration upon Jesus. Teach the children to bring their wandering thoughts back, again and again, to that one centre, to His cross, to His love, to His dear wounds. Let them learn that the way of wisdom is not the path of self-conceit, but the humble prayer, “Teach me to do Thy will.” For the man who knows himself best, knows the world best, and knows God best, always has the lowest thoughts of himself. May these little ones, therefore, flee from their own shallow wisdom and, like babes, be taught of God. May they quench their thirst at the fountainhead of the Scripture, for the price of wisdom is above rubies; it is not to be found in the false glitter of the world.
Now, may the Great Shepherd, who carries the lambs in His bosom, be the guard and guide of these dear children. May their minds be as wax to receive the seal of divine truth. May their memories become as the ark which held the pot of manna, storing up the precious promises. Let the burning fire of God’s own presence utterly consume every evil plan of the devil, that old serpent who would sow tares while men sleep. Burn them, O Lord, yea, burn them utterly, for the ashes of sin are the soil in which holiness grows best. May the children shine as living witnesses, a peculiar people, zealous for good works, and in the day when the Chief Shepherd shall appear, may many stars be in the Master’s crown, stars that once looked up from the faces of little children in the Sunday school. The Lord bless you, dear fellow-laborers, and all who have cried out for these lambs; may your prayers return into your own bosom pressed down and running over, and may you see the travail of your soul and be satisfied. Amen.