Tiny seeds.

A couple days ago, the February day felt more like May, and our neighbors invited Liam to jump on their trampoline with their 10-year-old daughter. We watched as they jumped for a while, then sat in the middle of the trampoline and chatted in the sun. When Liam came home, he sat down for lunch and nonchalantly told us, "That girl doesn't believe in God."

The way he said it seemed factual and nonjudgmental, so I casually asked him how he knew.

"Well," he responded, "I knew I wanted her to go to heaven and so I asked if she believes in God. She said no, so I told her that God loves all people and he loves her and he can do miracles."

As I've thought about what he said and the boldness he had in saying it, I'm tempted to attribute it to the running dialogue we have in our house about our King Jesus. But the bigger part of me realizes that only the Holy Spirit could prompt a 4-year-old heart to care for another child's soul enough to speak up. I see the gift of evangelism beginning to grow in him. Liam often prays that Lanie would know Jesus someday, and he's eager to share his faith with strangers and friends alike. I couldn't possibly "teach" him to do these things with joy. It's obvious this prompting is straight from Jesus.

The other night in the car, we were headed to a friend's house when Liam jumped into telling me the entire Gospel message from beginning to end. Some of his insights were astounding, and things I know we've never specifically taught. He said, "Mommy, they put a crown of thorns on him even though they should have given him a real crown... they didn't know that he was the real King." And after he finished the Story - as mascara ran down my face - he said, "When Jesus was dying on the cross, I fink he knew that he would make Liam Newby and would send me out into the world and would make me believe."

I've prayed so adamantly that this would be the year that Liam discovers Jesus as his true Friend and Savior and I'm watching God brilliantly answer that prayer. Don't get me wrong - he's still a four-year-old boy. He loves all "poop"-related words and thinks it's hilarious to taunt his little sister. But I'm seeing these tiny seeds that we've planted and prayed would grow begin to bear fruit, and it is the greatest joy to have a front row seat to the beginning of his walk with God.