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My
apologies for the length, but I think it's worth reading.
Jesus .. Jesus
God recently allowed me to see Jesus through the eyes of someone seeing Him
for the first time. Having the advantage of knowing how the story ends, we
can easily forget the cost of our redemption and the love of our Savior.
Every year we attend a local church pageant at Christmas time, which tells
the story of Jesus from His birth through His resurrection. It is a
spectacular event, with live animals and hundreds of cast members in
realistic costumes. The magi enter the huge auditorium on llamas from the
rear, descending the steps in pomp and majesty. Roman soldiers look huge and
menacing in their costumes and makeup.
Of all the years we have attended, one stands out indelibly in my heart. It
was the year we took our then three-year-old granddaughter, Bailey, who
loves Jesus. She was mesmerized throughout the entire play, not just
watching, but involved as if she were a player. She watches as Joseph and
Mary travel to the Inn and is thrilled when she sees the baby Jesus in His
mother's arms.
When Jesus, on a young donkey, descends the steps from the back of the
auditorium, depicting His triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Bailey was
ecstatic. As he neared our aisle, Bailey began jumping up and down,
screaming, "Jesus, Jesus! There's Jesus!" Not just saying the words but
exclaiming them with every fiber of her being. She alternated between
screaming his name and hugging us. "It's Jesus. Look!"
I thought she might actually pass out. Tears filled my eyes as I looked at
Jesus through the eyes of a child in love with Him, seeing Him for the first
time. How like the blind beggar screaming out in reckless abandon, "Jesus,
Jesus!", afraid he might miss Him, not caring what others thought. (Mark
10:46-52) This was so much fun.
Then came the arrest scene. On stage, the soldiers shoved and slapped Jesus
as they moved Him from the Garden of Gethsemane to Pilate. Bailey responded
as if she were in the crowd of women, with terror and anger. "Stop it!" she
screamed. "Bad soldiers, stop it!" As I watched her reaction, I wished we
had talked to her before the play. "Bailey, it's OK. They are just
pretending."
"They are hurting Jesus! Stop it!" She stood in her seat reacting to each
and every move. People around us at first smiled at her reaction, thinking
"How cute!". Then they quit smiling and began watching her watch Him. In a
most powerful scene, the soldiers lead Jesus carrying the cross down the
steps of the auditorium from the back. They were yelling, whipping, and
cursing at Jesus, who was bloodied and beaten.
Bailey was now hysterical. "Stop it! Soldiers! Stop it," she screamed. She
must have been wondering why all these people did nothing. She then began to
cry instead of scream. "Jesus, Oh, Jesus!" People all around us began to
weep as we all watch this devoted little disciple see her Jesus beaten and
killed as those first century disciples had. Going back and forth between
her mother's lap and mine for comfort, she was distraught. I kept saying,
"Bailey, it's OK. Jesus is going to be OK. These are just people pretending
to be soldiers."
She looked at me like I was crazy. In my lap, we talked through the cross
and burial. "Watch, Bailey, watch for Jesus!"
The tomb began to tremble and lightening flashed as the stone rolled away. A
superbowl touchdown cheer couldn't come close to matching this little one's
reaction to the resurrection. "Jesus! He's OK. Mommy, it's Jesus!"
I prayed that she wasn't going to be traumatized by this event, but that she
would remember it. I shall never forget it. I shall never forget seeing
Jesus's suffering, crucifixion, and resurrection through the eyes of an
innocent child.
Following the pageant the actors all assembled in the foyer to be greeted by
the audience. As we passed by some of the soldiers Bailey screamed out, "Bad
soldier, don't you hurt Jesus." The actor who portrayed Jesus was some
distance away surrounded by well-wishers and friends. Bailey broke away from
us and ran toward him, wrapping herself around his legs, holding on for dear
life. He hugged her and said, "Jesus loves you." He patted her to go away.
She wouldn't let go. She kept clinging to Him, laughing and calling His
name. She wasn't about to let go of her Jesus.
I think God in heaven stopped what ever was going on that day and made all
the angels watch Bailey. "Now, look there! You see what I meant when I said,
'Of such is the kingdom of heaven?'" Bailey's reaction should be our
reaction every day. When we think of Him, who He is, what He did for us, and
what He offers us, we have to say how can we do anything less than worship
Him? |
The Gift Of
Forgiveness
One of my teachers had each one of us bring a clear plastic bag and a sack
of potatoes. For every person we'd refuse to forgive in our life experience,
we were told to choose a potato, write on it the name and date, and put it
in the plastic bag. Some of our bags, as you can imagine, were quite heavy.
We were then told to carry this bag with us everywhere for one week, putting
it beside our bed at night, on the car seat when driving, next to our desk
at work. The hassle of lugging this around with us made it clear what a
weight we were carrying spiritually, and how we had to pay attention to it
all the time to not forget, and keep leaving it in embarrassing places.
Naturally, the condition of the potatoes deteriorated to a nasty slime. This
was a great metaphor for the price we pay for keeping our pain and heavy
negativity! Too often we think of forgiveness as a gift to the other person,
and it clearly is for ourselves!! So the next time you decide you can't
forgive someone, ask yourself ... isn't your bag heavy enough?
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