Sally Clarkson's two daughters, Sarah and Joy, were in an Easter play which ran for nine consecutive days. Sarah Clarkson, a phenomenal writer, details on her blog, Thoroughly Alive, what witnessing the Jesus story nine times in a row did to her soul. Please visit her blog and read the whole wonderful post.
Below you'll find a beautiful excerpt from Sarah's post. Enjoy, and Happy Resurrection Day!
There is a moment in the play that moved me strangely each time I saw it, a moment during the brutal whipping of Christ in which his hands slip from the whipping-post chains, he falls to the ground, the action abruptly suspends and the voice of Satan is heard as it might have whispered to Jesus in that agonizing moment. Give it up Jesus. You can still escape. You can avoid crucifixion. Just go now, it’s your choice. But Jesus rises even in the torture of his pain, face twisted in grief, back already scarred, and of his own will, puts his hands back in the straps. He grips the whipping post and gives his life, free-willed, to the people who are lost in darkness all around him.
Watching that scene the last night, there came into my head a thought that explained the fascination of this tale: this is our story. Of all the lives ever lived, the stories ever written, this is the one true tale. Every one of us hunched in the back-stage shadows or crunched in the auditorium seats must confront the love and life of this one man because it will determine the end, the fullness of our own story. In Jesus, the story of every person on earth finds its conclusion. The Gospel tale is never neutral, Jesus is never simply another hero. To each living soul, in every portrayal of the Gospel, the one epic story of the world is revealed. This is the draw of Jesus, the reason we cannot turn away.
But then came another thought. This is my story.The tale of this Jesus, this Lover, is the story of the one whose personal love for me tore open the heavens, brought God to my side determined on rescuing my broken heart, my marred spirit hungering for life. He yielded to death, he bore unspeakable pain so that I would not be left in the darkness. This is not some vague epic, or world myth or yet one more hour of overblown entertainment. The story of the death and life of Jesus defines every moment of my existence because he loves me as no one else ever can.
Below you'll find a beautiful excerpt from Sarah's post. Enjoy, and Happy Resurrection Day!
There is a moment in the play that moved me strangely each time I saw it, a moment during the brutal whipping of Christ in which his hands slip from the whipping-post chains, he falls to the ground, the action abruptly suspends and the voice of Satan is heard as it might have whispered to Jesus in that agonizing moment. Give it up Jesus. You can still escape. You can avoid crucifixion. Just go now, it’s your choice. But Jesus rises even in the torture of his pain, face twisted in grief, back already scarred, and of his own will, puts his hands back in the straps. He grips the whipping post and gives his life, free-willed, to the people who are lost in darkness all around him.
Watching that scene the last night, there came into my head a thought that explained the fascination of this tale: this is our story. Of all the lives ever lived, the stories ever written, this is the one true tale. Every one of us hunched in the back-stage shadows or crunched in the auditorium seats must confront the love and life of this one man because it will determine the end, the fullness of our own story. In Jesus, the story of every person on earth finds its conclusion. The Gospel tale is never neutral, Jesus is never simply another hero. To each living soul, in every portrayal of the Gospel, the one epic story of the world is revealed. This is the draw of Jesus, the reason we cannot turn away.
But then came another thought. This is my story.The tale of this Jesus, this Lover, is the story of the one whose personal love for me tore open the heavens, brought God to my side determined on rescuing my broken heart, my marred spirit hungering for life. He yielded to death, he bore unspeakable pain so that I would not be left in the darkness. This is not some vague epic, or world myth or yet one more hour of overblown entertainment. The story of the death and life of Jesus defines every moment of my existence because he loves me as no one else ever can.
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