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 watched 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' 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?

Author Unknown