The Keys of the Kingdom: Pediatric Chaplaincy and Spiritually Fluid Training
One of the most enriching experiences of my Chaplaincy journey—spanning six states and eleven hospitals—was during my CPE Supervisory training when I served as a pediatric chaplain at a Level I Trauma Children’s Hospital in California. In that sacred setting, I came to realize that some of the deepest lessons of Chaplaincy are whispered not in lecture halls or theological treatises, but through the voices of children themselves.
“If you want to enter the kingdom of heaven, you must become like little children.”
My spiritual teacher once said those words. I have pondered them for years. Children embody qualities that many adults long to recover—sincerity, innocence, authenticity, and a vibrant imagination. Some even believe that children see angels more clearly, that they commune with the divine in ways still uncluttered by cynicism or despair.
As a father, I have learned much from my own children about life, spirituality, and even about chaplaincy itself. But in the children’s hospital, the lessons became both profound and piercing.
The Sacred Fragility of Childhood
In pediatric hospitals, Chaplaincy takes on a uniquely tender form. Here we witness the raw vulnerability of life at its earliest stages: children battling cancer, enduring leukemia treatments, losing their hair, and watching their daily identity as students, friends, and siblings unravel. Parents, caught between fierce hope and unspoken terror, often turned to me in speechless numbness, asking the unanswerable: Where is God in this? What is God doing with us now?
Some parents clung to faith, believing God would heal their children. Others raged against heaven. Many simply wept in silence, longing for meaning. And tragically, some had to entrust their beloved little ones into the mystery of death—whether through the stillness of miscarriage, the alarms of the PICU, or the violence of our world—refugee children, victims of stray bullets, or young lives shattered by accidents and trauma.
The Keys to the Hospital
One memory has never left me. A boy with cancer, weary of hospital walls, asked me if I could give him the keys to the hospital. In his childlike imagination, the keys represented freedom: freedom to go home, to be in his room, to eat his favorite food, to play with his friends, and to simply be a child again.
He later asked me to pray with him—but not in the name of Jesus, Allah, or Yahweh. He asked me to pray in the name of Mickey Mouse. For him, Mickey was not a cartoon, but a symbol of joy, playfulness, and hope.
For me as a Chaplain, this was not a problem. I believe God hears every prayer—whether uttered in the name of saints, prophets, or animated mice. The heart of prayer is not the name invoked, but the longing it carries. And in that boy’s stage of faith, Mickey Mouse was sacred. So I prayed. And in that moment, I saw a glimpse of the kingdom of heaven, alive in a hospital room, through the faith of a child.
Beyond Symptoms: Spiritually Fluid Chaplaincy
At Chaplaincy Pro, we train our Chaplain Professional Education (CPE) students not to treat only symptoms but to attend to the roots of human longing. When a patient or family asks for prayer, we do not rush into words. Instead, we pause and ask:
- What are you hoping this prayer will do for you?
- Why now?
- What are you seeking to nurture through this request?
This spiritually fluid CPE approach honors the diversity of human faith and imagination. It teaches us that true chaplaincy is not about offering our prayers, but about creating sacred space for patients to voice their prayers—whether they invoke God, angels, ancestors, or Mickey Mouse.
With this boy, when I asked what he hoped the prayer would accomplish, he told me he wanted Mickey Mouse—his best friend, his sacred presence—to answer and heal him, to give him the “keys” to return home, to be free, to reunite with his family. His request was less about theology and more about longing for wholeness, belonging, and home.
The Aladdin Lamp
One tool I often use with children—and sometimes with adults—is the metaphor of the Aladdin lamp or genie in a bottle. I ask, “If you had three wishes, what would they be?” This gentle invitation helps them articulate their deepest desires in a way that feels safe, imaginative, and sacred.
When I offered this to the boy, he eagerly told me his three wishes. Naming them gave him a voice, a path to express not only his needs but also his hope. His spirituality was not refined by holy books or religious institutions, but it was no less real. For him, Disneyland was a holy place, Mickey Mouse was a sacred companion, and wishing was a spiritual practice.
Chaplaincy in Collaboration
Chaplaincy in pediatric care is rarely solitary work. Later, I partnered with a child life specialist—one of the remarkable professionals who help children and families navigate the hospital journey. Together, we introduced stones painted with faces representing different emotions. These became tools for the boy to express his feelings—fear, sadness, hope, joy—when words alone were too heavy.
This collaboration reminded me that chaplaincy is not about bringing God into the hospital room. God is already there—present with the patient, the family, the staff, and the suffering. My task as a Chaplain is to help people unpack what is already present: their fears, their dreams, their prayers, and their hopes.
Conclusion
Pediatric Chaplaincy is both heartbreaking and transformative. It calls us to hold suffering without flinching, while also receiving the wisdom of children who pray with unfiltered honesty and dream of keys, lamps, and sacred mice.
Spiritually Fluid Chaplaincy, as we teach at Chaplaincy Pro, equips Chaplains to meet these moments with depth and authenticity. It invites us to listen for the roots beneath the requests, to honor the spiritual language of imagination, and to walk alongside patients in the mystery of healing and hope.
And sometimes, that means praying in the name of Mickey Mouse, asking a child for their three wishes, or handing them painted stones so they can name their emotions. For in these small, sacred exchanges, we glimpse the very kingdom of heaven.
