The Essence of Maturity

Staring into the deceptively bright eyes of my newborn baby girl, Wren Elizabeth, I cannot help but notice the stark contrast between her dependent helplessness and the new-found frenetic independence of my toddler, Grace Haven. Though cliche, it is no less true to say they grow up quickly. This is indisputably obvious. A thought occurred--what is the essence of maturity? I think my natural inclination is to answer, "progressive independence." In other words, the more a child (or adult) matures, the more independent they become; or to put it another way, maturity is synonymous with independence.

But my presupposition was challenged on this occasion by a curious interlocutor--the very beautiful blue eyes that elicited my thoughts in the first place. I say they are deceptively bright eyes because a newborn child cannot clearly see anything more than a foot from her face, and full color vision is not developed until three or four months of age. Even more striking than this is the total narcissism of a newborn, his utter inability to distinguish himself from his environment, to posit the existence of anything beyond the self. So my newborn sucks her wrist or any object placed within reach of her mouth as though she would be instantly nourished and satisfied by virtue of her desire alone. All things exist for her well being, if indeed she is cognizant of anything outside of herself. How does this threaten my assumption? Perhaps maturity is not primarily increased independence. Perhaps the essence of maturity is a growing knowledge or awareness of the "other."

As a child grows and develops, she becomes more aware of the objects and people around her. He learns more and more how to relate to others and the physical world. Where this development does not occur or is retarded in some way, there is immaturity. In childhood and adulthood we are perpetually learning to navigate the labyrinth of relationships that is life. The better we learn to relate to others, the more mature we are.

If we assume the doxological Christian worldview--that we were created to know God, glorify him and enjoy him forever--then to know God more (experimentally) is to grow up more fully (mature) into the purpose for which we were created. In redemptive history through the biblical narrative God has chosen to relate to us in myriad ways. He is Maker, Father, Shepherd, King, Husband, Gardener, Counselor, Master, Servant, Friend, Brother, etc. The inanimate and conceptual metaphors include Rock, Shield, Fortress, Light, Bread, Life, Way, Truth, etc. All believers understand that these metaphors teach us something of how God relates to us. But perhaps this is an understatement. What if these things and relationships all exist to point us to God? What if the narrative of our lives, the narrative of history is but the shadow, and God's metanarrative of Creation, Fall, Redemption and Consummation is the substance? What if life is the type and God's story the antitype? If this were so, then God doesn't just relate to us as a perfect Father; fathers exist to point us to the Father. God is not just our Solid Rock of immutable reliability; rocks exist so that we can know him. Sheep and shepherds exist to portray our reliance on the Good Shepherd. Marital intimacy exists to illustrate the incomparable intimacy of Christ and his Church, etc.

Those tiny bright eyes that still see so little remind me that maturity is not so much about gaining independence as it is about becoming aware of others, which in turn enables us to know the ultimate Other.