Our Savior

My dear friend and I, both feeling the call to serve the little ones in our church, volunteered to start teaching a pre-school class in 2019.

At the time, they were two. Tiny little tikes, but we had babies of our own, and we both knew how they soaked up information like sponges. How their tiny hearts could actually grasp the truth of God’s word, with childlike innocence.

And we wanted that for our kids. Both our kids and their peers. 

They kept moving up with us, this small class. We taught them as two-year-olds, three-year-olds, and now four-year-olds. They journeyed with us through the unchartered waters of the pandemic, and their parents ensured they remained faithful to come. Having returned to a bit of normalcy, we slid back into a familiar pace.

But this past Sunday, we all experienced a new first together.

We went on an Easter Tour.

“We didn’t bring our baskets, teacher. Are we going to pick up eggs?”

My friend wrote their names on sticky notes, and we had them place each one on a paper cross.

“No, there won’t be any eggs. We’re going to walk through the Easter story.”

Of course, we had little idea of what was awaiting us. Armed with an outline, our task was to take the children upstairs and walk them through displays of the Easter story. Simple enough, after all, we’re both very familiar with it.

Starting with Palm Sunday, we waved our branches they knew to shout, “Hosannah!”

And then we talked about the Last Supper, and about how Judas betrayed Jesus. And then we moved along to Peter’s denial of Christ, before the rooster crowed, and as the plot thickened, so did the shock on their faces.

We began to tell the story of how Jesus was crucified, a word that gave them some trouble to pronounce.

“See that crown made out of thorns?” My friend gently picked up the crown, and their little hands hurried to touch it. “Careful, it’ll poke you.”

The concern in their eyes grew, and as I began sharing how the Jews shoved the crown on Jesus’ head, I could see the wheels turning.

They were putting two and two together.

The pain that was involved. The fact that kings wear lavish, expensive crowns. No one would dare put such a humiliating and disrespectful thing on the head of royalty.

And then came the nails, and as I read over the script, trying to maintain eye contact and tell the story, I realized how horrifying and awful this must’ve sounded to their little ears.

And rightly so.

Because each week we talk about stories in the Bible that have a tidy ending. For the most part, at least.

Someone obeyed God. Or someone was healed. Or God used someone to accomplish an amazing task.

But this.

The whips. The crown of thorns. The nails driven through his hands and feet. The weight of the cross. The darkness of the tomb.

I wondered what they told their parents at Easter lunch. Because, from my vantage point, the cruelty of Christ’s crucifixion wasn’t lost on them.

“How does that story make you feel?” I asked my daughter as we drove home from church.

“Sad.” She shook the little box of items she’d collected on the Easter Tour. Small symbols to remind her of the story.

“Yeah, me too. It’s awful, what Jesus had to go through.” Telling the familiar story to such a small audience struck a new chord with me.

“That man who took the money, he should’ve been the one to die.”

“That would’ve been more fair, especially since Jesus didn’t do anything to deserve death.”

“Yeah, but then we wouldn’t have a Savior.”

The Bible is a hard read, my friend. And so is living a life committed to Christ. It isn’t simple and neat and tidy, as if this whole thing is a creatively authored fairy tale.

It is real. Whether we follow Christ or not, we know there is darkness. And difficulty. Take a look around and you’ll see massive amounts of havoc and fear and despair.

And we can do nothing about it.

But Jesus could.

And He did.

For you. For me. For all of humanity. All who choose to believe and to follow.

To live in the joy of the reality of His resurrection.

Not because it’s smooth sailing from there on out. Oh no, we’re promised there will be trouble. But there is a solution.

The Lamb of God, who took our place.

The resurrected Christ.

Jesus.

Our Savior.