A Crown of Roses

In awe of what JUST happened.  I had to sit down and write about it while it's fresh in my mind.  I don't want to forget it, and even while it was happening I wanted to savor every moment of rawness and discovery.

All three daughters were busy and playing so well together and, as much of a lost cause that it is, I was actually trying to finish the last episode of The Bible that we had recorded from the history channel.  Then V walks out, right as the Roman soldiers are putting the crown of thorns on Jesus' head.  I quickly  stop it thinking ok I'll have to finish this later.  And so the conversation began...

V:  Mommy what was that?  Was that blood?
Me:  oh yikes, how deep do you go with a 6 year old?!  Yes baby, yes it was.
V:  Oh, who was it?
Me: Well, that was Jesus.  That was before he hung on the cross.  A lot of people did not like Jesus, and they put that crown of thorns on him to mock him...
V:  So they made him bleed??
Me:  deep breath... Yes, love.

Suddenly her head drops, both hands cover her face, and I see her shoulders start bobbing up and down as she completely breaks down, tears pouring.  And not in a whiny, melodramatic, exaggerated way, as I know my daughters are capable of.  It was this cry of... genuine hurt.

After giving her a moment I bring her over to me.

Me:  What's making you cry baby?
V:  (through tears) That they did that to Jesus!  And made him bleed!
Me:  I know V, that makes Mommy cry too.
V:  I'm just so sad that he hurt!  (more tears)
Me:  I know honey, and you know it should make us sad, because it's our sin that put him there.  But don't you remember what happened after he died?
V:  He rose again.
Me:  Right!  He lives!
V:  But... but... (tears) that must have made God so sad!
Me:  Yes, yes it did.  But that's what God sent his son here to do for us, to save us from our sin.
               (a pause)
V:  But Mommy, if I were there.... I wouldn't have given him a crown of thorns.... (tears rolling down one after the next) I would have given him a crown of roses.

I think I could have thrown both hands up in worship, looking to the heavens in praise and wonder at the awesomeness of THAT moment.  But I threw my arms around my daughter, hugging her, thanking the Lord for her heart and that He saved her.  We talked for a few more minutes, told her that Jesus is with the Father now.  "On his right side!" she joyfully reminded me.

And it hit me, if a 6-year-old can grieve Christ's sufferings like that, how much more could we.  How much more it should hurt, drawing us to the cross, endured by the perfect sacrifice, leaving us with no other rightful response than a humbly repenting heart.  And then living that out.  Daily.

Thankful for that child's faith that teaches me so much.  I need more of THAT...  child-like faith.

smiling through the tears