The disciples are sitting on benches against the wall, on the floor, on stools. As Jesus talks, a child is by their mother, at the edges, in the shadows.

Jesus catches the child’s attention and points to a small space on the bench between James and John. Maybe they were the child’s uncles. Or family friends. The child moves to that bit of bench. The brothers make a little room, but keep watching Jesus, and watching the others.

Jesus keeps talking about what it means to matter. What it means to be significant. What it means to be the greatest.

He stands up. He walks toward the brothers who, in other accounts, wanted to be the greatest, wanted to be on either side of Jesus when he came into the kingdom he talked about.

They may have sat up a little straighter, leaned in.

Jesus picks up the child. “Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me,” he says. “And whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me.”

For generations of Sunday school teachers and nursery workers, this is gold. If you work in the nursery, you are welcoming God. And Jesus doesn’t stop there. He talks again about children a couple sentences later, warning about causing them to stumble. And then again, on the next page, he talks about not keeping them away, and about being like little children.

Apparently, kids matter to Jesus.

Which is why Rich Dixon leads us to support a house full of kids. Which is why pastors abusing or permitting the abuse of children while using the name of Jesus is abhorrent.

For Jesus, children are never collateral damage.