I’m not a huge fan of “Jesus Loves the Little Children.”

I’m not a huge fan of the song “Jesus Loves the Little Children.”

Don’t worry, I’m not taking a hard stand against it. I’m not saying it’s a bad song. I understand why people love it.

But every time I hear someone sing those words, I think of a saying the old country people used to use:

”The problem with kittens is that they turn into cats.”

The little Asian babies. The little Native American babies. Hispanic toddlers. Precious black three-year-olds. Nobody looks at the tiny folk with disdain.

But the problem with little people is that they turn into adults. Adults we suspect. Adults we accuse. Adults we fear.

I remember hearing little old white ladies talk about adorable “pickaninnies” you “just wanted to squeeze” in one breath while using the n-word in the next.

I have a brown son, and when our old choir would sing “Jesus loves the little children,” I’d lean over and whisper-sing a lyrical shift in his ear.

“Jesus loves the little children,

all the children of the world,

speckled, striped, and polka dot—

Jesus loves us all a lot—

Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

We’d both die laughing with that subversive giggle you can only share in church. “Moooooooom. Be good!”

It’s how I handled the painful zing of knowing my brown baby would someday be a brown teenager or brown adult, facing every stereotype and suspicion of his nation of origin.

Give him ten years, and some of the white folks singing this song wouldn’t be digging deep into their pockets to hand him a peppermint. Instead they would mention “The Chinese Virus” and crack jokes about eating cats.

Jesus loves us all a lot, kid. When you’re more than just a cute brown baby. When you’re speckled with teenage acne. When the stripes of lines start to mark your face. When you’re polka dotted with liver marks on your hands. When these white folks no longer think you’re cute, Jesus will love you, kid.

Because the love of our God is so much bigger than the easiest of affections for the smallest of the red, and yellow, black, and white. Jesus loves the large black man you fear on the street. Jesus loves the immigrant trying to swim to freedom. Jesus loves the Chinese scientists.

Jesus loves adults who scare me,

All the grown ups of the world.

Those who protest, march, and disagree

Jesus loves as much as me

Jesus loves each precious grown up of the world.