The tears of a child

It's fair to say that we all have key memories in our lives that contribute to who we each are as a person. They can range from family events, personal firsts (first day of school, first bike, etc), music, television shows and movies.

One in particular for me is a movie I saw when I was around 4. It was a movie where the Gospels were being 'brought to life' - the life of Christ specifically - and it was being shown at the church my family went to at the time.

It was a rather big production from what I can remember as there was advertising for it and they had somehow managed to get what seemed at the time (ok, to my memory of the time) a properly-sized screen attached to the back wall behind the pulpit. I don't remember popcorn, however. We were in God's house, and this was a well-established norm at my family's church.

I had recently come to an initial Faith and I knew Jesus' story from what my parents and Sunday School teachers had told me.

So to see Jesus walking up on the screen, doing the things that I'd been told He'd done - I was beyond excited to see it with the excitement that only befits a 4 year old.

Then the point of it all arrived: Jesus' arrest, trial, tortures, Crucifixion and Death.

I knew even then that it had to happen. It was why He came in the first place - to die for my sins so I could have a 'right relationship with God'. I knew this. At least, I thought I did.

Instead I bawled my eyes out and screamed, "No! No!" at the screen with each lash of the whip, with each mocking statement and/or punch, as Jesus carried His cross and made that excruciating walk towards Golgotha, and finally as they drove the nails into Christ's hands and feet. I mourned alongside the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdelene, & the Apostle Christ loved John at Christ's words, "It is finished".

I was downright inconsolable up until the Resurrection. As best as my 4 year old brain could wrap around it, on the one hand I knew it needed to happen but at the same time - He was sinless. He was the God-Man. Why did He have to die?

I honestly don't remember where my parents where (I vaguely remember hanging out near the front nearest the screen with the other kids my age - or thereabouts - and enjoying this very festive event of watching Christ's life & ministry) and now I can say I'm glad they weren't around to my knowledge. It was a very foundational lesson for me that has stuck with me even to today.

Fast forward to today and I'm on the edge of seeing those events played out once again. Christ instituting Communion for the first time. Judas' betrayal & Christ's arrest. Peter's denial of Christ. Christ's trial and sentencing. His Passion, Crucifixion and Death.

Yet I ask myself - will I have the same tears as I did when I was 4? Even though I have a far better understanding of the why's and wherefores than I did as a 4 year old - will the tears still flow?

I'll readily confess I'm not much of a crier and haven't been for a really long time. There are times when this isn't a big deal to me while at others I'm greatly bothered by it. This would be one of those times.

I now understand that a lack of tears means my heart is hard. That I'm more prideful and self-centered than I can even begin to express, along with the countless other failings about me that I know are part of the reason that Christ willingly went to the Cross for us.

In roughly 24 hours I will once again see the nails driven into the hands and feet of the God-Man. What will my reaction honestly be? It is my prayer that it will be somewhere closer to the genuine response that that 4 year old had. But instead of the tears being out of a desire for another means of the world's redemption taking place, it will be out of grateful penitence in response to the reality of how much God truly does love me.

Perhaps by God's grace I'll once again have the tears of a child.