You Are a Child of God, Not Your “Inner Child”

'To understand why we’ve gone so wrong when it comes to thinking about being childlike, we can begin by looking at what has gone wrong with being an adult.'

From Crisis

By Anna Reynolds, MA(Theol)

God calls us to be childlike, not childish. Overindulging and coddling ourselves does not lead us or the people around us to greater holiness, and being a child of God has nothing to do with the fiction of our “inner child.”

Our current age is described by some as a time of “higher consciousness.” This is a dubious descriptor when you consider how narrow-minded, intolerant, and incurious are the thought leaders of our day. While there are undeniably drawbacks to the way our culture views man, the moral law, and the existence of reality, Catholics can still gain insights from the prevailing thoughts and aspirations of our time. 

Such a project, however, is fraught with peril. Discerning truth in the sly half-truths of a godless age is not for those easily swayed. Take, for example, the current cultural tendency to speak about and get in touch with your “inner child.” At first blush, this can seem good and even holy. Did not Jesus exhort us: “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3)? 

Closer analysis reveals that our societal interest in the “inner child” is not the rebirth of a faith-filled Christian but a retreat from the responsibilities of our vocation. We should be skeptical of attempts to “heal” and “reparent” our inner child. It is only through the grace of God, our Creator, that we will definitively be healed. Reliance on God’s power instead of our own delivers us to the true childlike state that Jesus speaks of and allows us to continue on the pilgrim journey. To enter the Kingdom of Heaven, we are to be a child of God, not some version of our imagined “inner child.” 

Where Have All the Grown-Ups Gone? 

To understand why we’ve gone so wrong when it comes to thinking about being childlike, we can begin by looking at what has gone wrong with being an adult. In past generations, adolescents wanted to mature and take on responsibility in order to have freedom. The same cannot be said in recent decades, in which young adults shun responsibilities like driving, marrying and having children, and generally accepting responsibilities associated with adulthood. 

Contemporary fiction has a way of revealing the values our culture holds. If you had the misfortune of watching the more recent installments of the Star Wars movies, you saw a culture that reflects ours painfully well. Notably, the older adult characters in the films, like the people in our culture, are neglectful of duty, solipsistic, and uninspiring. The reader must forgive inaccuracies in my commentary. Having suffered through one viewing of The Force Awakens, I cannot bring myself to watch it again to verify certain plot points.

Princess Leia and Han Solo illustrate for us the sad reality of gray divorce (assuming they took marriage vows a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away). What is worse, Luke Skywalker, the hero of the original trilogy, reneges his responsibilities and disappears to a quasi-monastic state. The orphaned protagonist, Rey, goes on a wild goose chase in search of him. When she finally finds Luke, he, like so many adults in our time, appears focused on himself, unwilling to be of service to others, and unavailable to those who need him. 

You could argue that the original Star Wars trilogy also did not have an older generation. The difference is that the characters in the original, like so much fiction of 50 to 100 years ago, had been orphaned. They were given the task of becoming responsible adults because their forebears were no longer present and able to lead. How different is this state than being abandoned by the old guard who should, by rights, mentor and nurture the up-and-coming generation? 

Who are you?

Many people in our day would point to the fact that Luke Skywalker had a traumatic childhood. Maybe he needed to retreat to “reparent” his inner child and heal from those experiences. But maybe he does not have a separate, vulnerable person inside of his psyche who needs to be tended to. Perhaps he is ensnared in an unhealthy fixation with himself that inhibits his ability to carry out his vocation.

To return to the real world, there is not both a cynical, traumatized adult inhabiting your body and a wounded inner child who needs you to “reparent” him. You are one body-soul composite. Separating some imagined inner child and “honoring” that version of ourselves (as our culture likes to say) is to invent obligations where they do not exist and ignore the real responsibilities God has given us. 

The privilege of becoming an adult and accepting the care and responsibility of other people necessitates forgetfulness of self. This is not a defect but a key facet of our spiritual journey and God’s salvific design. There are certainly times when addressing painful past experiences can lead to healing, but to make ourselves the core focus of our life is a path to endless misery.

A Way Forward

Becoming childlike prepares us for eternity. Allowing ourselves to settle for merely being childish fosters obsession with the self and neglect of our obligations to others. It also inhibits our relationships with other people. Winnowing the ideas of our current moment, we would do well to reject what drives us from God and each other. The fiction of the “inner child,” while helpful in certain limited contexts, should be rejected as a default way of thinking about ourselves. 

What do we do with the shortcomings of our childhood and painful experiences that might prevent us from entering into a childlike state? There are many modes of nurturing our God-given talents and moving through great difficulties. The lives of the saints offer us many such examples. I have yet to find among them people who spent their time thinking about their own inner child and trying to heal that person of their own power. 

In his letter to the Philippians, St. Paul writes, “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8). Whatever our circumstances, we can choose to be grateful for the gift of our life and grateful for the responsibilities of our vocation. In that fertile seedbed of gratitude, we can grow into a child of God, who we were created to be.