Monthly Archives: March 2013

That’s Sad

I’ve just recently started teaching a childrens class at church on Wednesday night. Typically it’s to two kids, but tonight there were also two new girls who were visiting.  While I was teaching John the Baptist and Jesus, one of the new girls seemed really interested and asked,

“Why did Jesus come to earth?”

That question wasn’t in the lesson plan; it wasn’t on my little timetable, but that’s not a question that you ignore.  I stopped and took a timeout because of the severity of that question.  And from right there all we talked about the rest of the night was Jesus and why he came to earth.  I explained it the best that I could to this probably nine year old sitting in front of me.  I explained who he was, why he had come, and that he had come in human form. I explained why the people hated him and why they killed him, and why he rose from the dead and where he is now.  I explained as much as I could.  I told the kids how he was crucified and how he was beaten and hurt.  And I kept saying,

“He did it all because he loves us.  He didn’t have to, but he loves us.”

And then I looked at the little girl that asked me the question, and I said cheerfully, “isn’t that so cool?”  She looked at me with the soberest eyes and said,

“That’s sad.”

I haven’t told the story of the crucifixion very often, but the times I have told it to kids, I’ve never gotten that response.  I think that response more than possibly anything else she could have said made it clear that she really understood; that she had really made a connection.  To hear all that Jesus suffered IS sad; the story doesn’t become beautiful until you understand that through his suffering, death, and resurrection you are free from your sins; and you are no longer a slave to the devil, but you are a son and an heir of God.

 

I was happy that I got to share the story.  I was happy that the little girl was interested and kept asking questions.  But afterward it made me hurt and sad that I couldn’t answer all her questions like I should have been able to; here I am, a Christian, and by Christian I mean my very essence, who I am, my whole life.  And this religion that I’ve given my life too – I don’t know it inside and out.  To talk about it should be second nature. But I dabble in petty things every day.  I let irrelevant things frustrate me and take up so much time and energy.  I sin, and I don’t care as much as I should. But isn’t this “sad” gospel my very life? I must know it better, because I may be the only person to whom that girl ever asks those questions.

 

 

 

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