Sunday School Substitute



It was one of those last minute requests—the kind when you have no time to make an excuse. The teacher of the five year-olds was ill, and someone needed to take her Sunday school class—now.

“It’s easy.” I was told assuredly. “There are only ten of them.”  And one of me, I thought. I’m sure God was smiling. He knew what I was in for.

I quickly scanned her craft and lesson plan. I took ten paper plates, ten foam coffee cups and some extra paper to make large pretend stones. We’d be making Jesus’ burial tomb, while I shared the story of how Jesus died and was raised back to life.

Every child showed up that bright, sunny Sunday, and soon I had ten active little kids running around the room. Good thing no one was watching me do this. On second thought, I wanted to grab at least two more adults to help me manage these active kids as I handed each one a pair of scissors. I now had much greater respect for Kindergarten teachers.

Somehow ten little kids were able to cut the paper plate according to the directions—taking off the bottom third. This would be the front of Jesus’ tomb. In the middle of the plate we poked a hole and made it big enough to push the foam coffee cup through the opening.  I suddenly remembered I was supposed to be telling them the story of Jesus being crucified on the cross, and that he had died and was placed in a tomb like this one.

“Jesus was put in a cup?” A cute little boy asked quite seriously.

“No, this is a pretend tomb.”  I told him, hoping he wouldn’t share this whole episode with his parents. Several boys were now pretending to drink out of their tomb-cups—much to the delight of the rest.

“Let’s make the stone to cover the tomb now."  Little hands went to work cutting varying sized circles that we colored black to look like a huge rock.


Amazingly, there were no cut fingers as we finished constructing our paper plate and foam cup tombs. I demonstrated how the stone was rolled away when Mary Magdalene had gone to look for Jesus on Easter morning.  “SEE!!”  I exclaimed, “Jesus wasn’t inside.”

“He couldn’t be inside.” That same little boy said, “He couldn’t fit.”

I looked at the clock and then down at ten little faces with their paper tombs. Lesson failure. Obviously there was much more to Sunday school teaching than I knew. Parents would soon arrive. Could I  stamp "I tried" across my forehead?


Sighing more to myself, I said, “When you see your parents you can tell them that Jesus isn’t in the tomb—He’s alive and that’s why we celebrate Easter!”


Proudly showing his paper plate and cup tomb to his parents, the cute little boy explained that his teacher said Jesus couldn’t fit in the cup so He went to Heaven and then came back to tell everyone He was alive. I gave his parents a fleeting smile and wished them a Happy Easter.

Good thing God’s grace covers hapless Sunday school substitutes—and always includes His precious little children. I felt a little better.

As we celebrate Jesus' amazing gift to us, I wish you all a wondrous Easter. 









Popular posts from this blog

Counting the Cost

Image
Something big is missing in this photo. Let me explain. Here in my hometown, the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe prepared a parcel of land for a new hotel. Plenty of planning and architectural designs were evaluated. A gemstone of a hotel would be built across from the waterfront—a beautiful, restful place welcoming travelers. A true four-star facility.   They cleared the aging brick structures that had been fading away between Front Street and Railroad Avenue. Then the pandemic hit, shortages of labor and supplies, add in the costly inflation that followed. Everything stopped.   But this is what I admire about the Elwha Tribe: they have counted the cost. They didn’t want to move forward and take on tremendous debt. They would rather move slowly and be financially ready, rather than begin building and then letting it sit unfinished.   Counting the cost is something I should have done earlier in life when I didn’t know what high interest rates would do to our farming cost...
Read more

Summertime Music

Image
During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, “Play me”.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. It’s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isn’t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clapping—I guess I wasn’t alone, after all.
Read more

Planting Good Seeds

Image
Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions s...
Read more