TWENTY
DYING AND LIVING
The spring of 2004 marked a year since Colton’s hospital stay. That year,
Good Friday fell in April, and in just another month, Colton would be five
years old. I always enjoyed Good Friday because I’d do what I called a
“come-and-go family Communion.” That meant that I would hang out at the
church for a couple of hours, and families would come and take
Communion together. I liked it for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it
gave our church families a chance to spend some special time together
during Holy Week. Also, it gave me a chance to ask individual families
about their prayer needs and pray with the whole family right on the spot.
That morning, I needed to run some errands, so I put Cassie and Colton
in my red Chevy truck and drove the few blocks into town. Still small
enough to need a booster seat, Colton rode next to me, and Cassie sat by
the window. As we drove down Broadway, the main street through town, I
was mulling over my responsibilities for the day, thinking ahead to the
family Communion service. Then I realized it was a religious holiday and I
had a captive audience right there in the truck.
“Hey, Colton, today is Good Friday,” I said. “Do you know what Good
Friday is?”
Cassie started bouncing up and down on the bench seat and waved her
hand in the air like an eager student. “Oh, I know! I know!”
“I don’t know,” Colton said.
I glanced over at Cassie. “Okay, what’s Good Friday?”
“That’s the day Jesus died on the cross!”
“Yep, that’s right, Cassie. Do you know why Jesus died on the cross?”
At this, she stopped bouncing and started thinking. When she didn’t
come up with anything right away, I said, “Colton, do you know why Jesus
died on the cross?”
He nodded, surprising me a bit.
“Okay, why?”