Sometimes I dread telling Bible stories to Christian kids, actually, I mean tweens, Christian tweens, especially those that have been homeschooled all their lives. THEY KNOW THE BIBLE BETTER THAN MOST ADULTS. These kids would smugly finish my thoughts and sentences. More often than not, they would ruin my well-crafted, climactic ending even before I started the story. I am sure if I were to tell the story of Noah’s Ark or Jonah and the Big Whale one more time, there would be a riot.
“It’s not a WHALE, Mom.”
“Did dinosaurs make it to the Ark, Auntie Wendy?”
Therefore I decided to tell Bible stories in the most dramatic way possible. I added some level of intrigue and tension that they couldn’t wait to open the Bible to make sure I wasn’t fibbing. So you can understand how pleased (and smug) I was when my fourth-grader said she’s never heard of the story I told in my class this past Sunday. Actually, she’s heard the same story many times since toddlerhood!
When it comes to telling a familiar Bible story, the key is to draw attention to the details that most people skim through. And it happens quite often that these seemingly minor details have taught me the deeper truth.
Here is the story I told to my Sunday class, and I am telling it in my own words.
Around the time of Jesus’ birth, Rome ruled over Israel. Rome, like any other imperial superpower, had its eyes set on taking over weaker nations and subduing them to absolute obedience. It was no surprise that the oppressors and their subjects became enemies over time, with frequent conflicts and violence. It was during this time of political instability, a Roman officer’s surprising quest made history.
This Roman officer was in command of 100 men. In the Bible, such a person is given the title “centurion.” This centurion was unlike any of his Roman cohorts – somehow he had developed such affection for the Jews, and the Jews responded to him with admiration and respect.
One day, this centurion became completely distraught when he found out one of his most trusted servants was dying of an incurable disease.
At this point, I had the attention of all the tweens in the room. I decided to stop the story and ask them a controversial question. I told them there are now laws in some states that legalize the termination of human lives upon the will of the dying or consent of family members.
All jaws dropped. These children couldn’t believe it.
“What do you think is the right thing to do? Someone you love is suffering a great deal of pain and that this person has no chance of living. If you are the one to decide whether to end his or her life, what would you do?”
“I wouldn’t allow it. I’d rather see the person live longer,” an 11-year-old boy quickly responded. I know he is not raised in a traditional, Christian home, and I was eager to hear his views.
“Even when this person is in tremendous pain and all he wanted to do is die?”
I played the devil’s advocate to further test this child’s thinking process. He became quiet. Sometimes we just don’t have answers…even for this expressive, opinionated child.
“This is what I believe in,” I said, “lives belong to God our Creator. Since we don’t give life, nor do we have the right to take life.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and there were looks of relief. (We are not monsters, after all.)
Will these children still agree and live it out in 10, 20 years when life itself becomes an inconvenience? I can’t help but wonder whether this lesson will sink in deep enough for them to stand their ground.
I continued with the story.
This centurion was not going to sit around and watch his beloved servant die. Crossing cultural, religious, and ethnic boundaries, he pled with his Jewish friends to call on one of their own, a miracle-working Jew named Jesus, to come and heal his servant.
While most people would have accepted such a sad event as fate, this centurion was not going to let this poor soul die without putting up a fight. This life mattered to him. He knew he had reached the end of the medical science of his time; otherwise, a quick call to the doctor could have prolonged the life of his servant.
There is an expression I often heard my mother say in Chinese – “The end of men is the beginning of God. (“人的盡頭是神的源頭”) And this is exactly where this centurion stood. He had exhausted all of his options. His only choice now would make him look like a fool, but he didn’t care.
But time was running out for him. It was not enough to know that a faith healer was already on his way over. The centurion’s anxiety and desperation was on full display when he sent his friends to meet Jesus halfway – with an urgent message that says,
“Lord, don’t trouble Yourself, since I am not worthy to have You come under my roof. That is why I didn’t even consider myself worthy to come to You. But say the word, and my servant will be cured. For I too am a man placed under authority, having soldiers under my command. I say to this one, ‘Go!’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come!’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this!’ and he does it.” (Luke 7:6-8)
Without ever meeting Jesus face to face, the centurion was about to witness a miracle in front of his very eyes. Signs of life suddenly returned to the servant’s frail body as he slowly opened his eyes in pure wonder. A surge of power like electricity flowed through him. He got up on the bed and met his master’s bloodshot eyes. He cried out, “I am well, my lord! I am well!”
The centurion’s faith not only brought back a life, but his faith astonished the Son of God. (Luke 7:9)
He was a Roman who accepted and loved those that were different from him – those of another race, another faith, and those of lower socioeconomic status. Without such noble love, his story would not have mattered to any. He’d probably watch his servant die an untimely death. And without any regard for the Jews, he would have been one of those heartless soldiers beating up and crucifying any Jews that were looking to start trouble.
These subtle details humbled me and elevated me to desire the same kind of love that is not natural to us. Can we love without seeing the color of one’s skin, or hearing the accent of one’s far-from-perfect English? Can we esteem and value someone without the need to know what they do for a living, or what part of town they live in?
Somehow one that can love this way also has the greatest faith. This centurion’s big, big heart released a great, great faith. Do we want to see God-sized miracles? Perhaps the best place to start is to enlarge our hearts to love in spite of our own impulse and prejudice. And here is my theory – our faith grows in proportion to our love.