A thought on Easter

            On Thursday afternoon I was sitting by the neighborhood sandbox with my kids and a 4, 5 & 6 year old who all live on our block. As we chatted, the following transpired:

            4 yr old: "We should buy enough sand to reach Jesus."

            5: "Who is Jesus?"

            4: "He’s the President"

            Me to 5 yr old: "This weekend people celebrate Easter, which is when Jesus died on the cross and then came alive again."

            6: "That was a mean thing to do."

            Me: "You’re right, it was mean, but Jesus let them do it."

            Today I had my own worst thought about killing Jesus when I was trying to make my 10 month old take a morning nap, so that I could go back to sleep. He kept standing up in the pack-n-play and I thought, “Jesus, make him go to sleep or I will kill you.” As I had it flash in my head I instantly felt like I had just lost everything. I was the kid who after being on the verge of getting in trouble, threw his plate at his mom and then panicked. To try to take it back I ran away screaming, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!,” Even trying to apologize to God felt useless, because I had committed an unforgiveable sin and even in trying to tell God that I did not mean it, I knew it was too late.

            Where did this come from? Who am I to wish God were dead, to be as arrogant as to threaten him? I am ungrateful and dark and evil. I can’t help thinking that I nailed Christ up there. I said you are not enough unless you do my bidding, so I am going to destroy you in my heart. Shame and disappointment and isolation follow and now I am no my needs saying, please forgive me, like you did the criminal dying next to you who confessed that you were “the Christ, the son of God.” You did this for him, promised to meet him that day and I praise you for letting me be a part of the forgiveness and that same reunion that comes after.