Post by sunshine on Jul 14, 2005 4:54:30 GMT 10
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 Gesthemane
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, HOW CAN
WE DO
ANYTHING LESS THAN WORSHIP HIM??
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 Gesthemane
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, HOW CAN
WE DO
ANYTHING LESS THAN WORSHIP HIM??