Our school has to have six different Christmas and Easter services. With around 2500-3000 students, it is difficult to find a place where everyone can gather together. Things happen in shifts. The church which founded the school and helps us be here, has recently built a new church building. The services take place in that building. The preschool-kindergarten had their service Wednesday, then there were two elementary services–one for 1st-3rd grade, and one for 4th-6th grade (both on Thursday), then one junior high, one high school, and one staff service (on Friday).
Since I am a junior high teacher, I went Friday morning and then back for the evening service for staff. I had to take Chase with me Friday morning because I was not able to pick him up from his own school because the times conflicted. He took some coloring books and a notebook and pencil. After the singing and sermon, the back doors to the sanctuary burst open, and two teachers came in dressed as Roman soldiers. They were yelling and bringing along a person dressed in a white robe. The man was crawling along, pulling a cross on his shoulders. A crown of thorns was on his head and his face looked bruised and bloody. They were yelling at him and whipping him. A small group followed–some ladies who were softly crying and some men who were yelling. Then the soldiers grabbed a man who helped the Christ get his cross on to the stage. After they placed the cross on center stage, the group moved away and the dramatization was over.
When the door slammed open and the yelling began, Chase was surprised. He looked up, wondering what was going on. It was hard for him to see in the dim light and understand, so he was actually not completely absorbed in what was happening. That was until I pointed out who was playing the actor of Jesus. I whispered, “Hey, Chase. Do you see? That is Mr. E. He’s pretending to be Jesus. They’re showing what happened when Jesus died.” From that point on he was transfixed, trying to relate the teacher he knows with the man in a robe wearing a crown and a wig and having a battered looking face.
When the service was done, our group of junior high teachers gathered and got some pictures taken. Finally Mr. E arrived. He still had some makeup on. Whoever did his makeup did a good job, making it look cut and bruised. Chase did not want to get a picture taken with him. It looked really authentic to him. When we left the sanctuary, he looked at me and said, “Mom, is Mr. E. going to be okay?” I told him it was just makeup and he really was alright.
I thought that was the end of it, but then we went to last night’s Easter service for the staff. Chase had a piece of paper and was drawing. He drew a sword and asked me to write the word “sword”. He drew a “spear” and he asked me to write the word “spear”. He also drew a couple of other things—and I realized they were all words that he had heard or was looking at in his workbooks earlier in the morning during the service. Then, he copied all of the words on the paper in his own handwriting. Then he whispered, “Mommy, would you draw a man holding a spear?” I tried my best, and I drew a man wearing a helmet and holding a spear. But, he was not satisfied. Then he whispered, “Can you draw Jesus, carrying the cross?” I tried my best and then I wrote the word “Jesus” on the paper. He copied the word “Jesus”. Then he folded up the paper so that only that picture and the words “Jesus” were visible. He showed his Dad–“Hey Dad, see? A disciple with a spear (a little confusion there) and Jesus.”
He held that folded piece of paper for the whole rest of the evening. He was caressing it the same way that he caresses his blanket (yeah, we thought he had given that up but he adopted a new one!). He held it in hand, and put it up to his face. I said, “Why are you doing that?” He said, “I like it.” When I found the paper this morning, the picture I had drawn was mostly rubbed off the paper. The picture was definitely hard to see, because the sweet little fingers of a five year old had massaged it away.
What I walk away with from yesterday is the reminder to have the heart of a child. The awe of what Jesus really did should settle deep into my heart. I should not pass by it without emotion, but it should leave an important mark on me whenever I consider it. I should not just go through the motions of another Easter celebration, but the very eyes of my soul should wonder at His sacrifice and His pain. May I love You all the more Lord, for what You endured for the love of me!
sharonbernhardt 