Tell Me the Old, Old Story

So RJ (the six-year-old grandson) and I were sitting in the waiting area at Bob Evans talking today.  We had just come from church and communion, and I was telling him that his thirteen-year-old Michigan cousin will soon be confirmed and taking communion as an adult.  I asked RJ if he knew what communion was all about.

“Is it that whole body and blood thing?” he asked me.

Not bad for a six-year-old.

“Actually,” I said, “It all started during this week that we are celebrating, Easter week. Did you understand about the palms people had at church?”

He shook his head no.  We attended the daughter’s church today, and unlike the Baptist Lutheran church that the grandpa and I attend, there was no palm waving.  There weren’t any fronds, either.  Just blades, sort of.

I told him the story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem as a king.  That people threw down palm leaves as a symbol that Jesus was going to be their king.

“Then what happened?” he asked.

S0mehow we didn’t talk about the Last Supper and communion at all.  I told him about Jesus’s being arrested, that one of his friends kissed him to tell the “police” who to arrest.

Do you know what happened next?” I asked.  I know he does.  He is a regular attender of church and Sunday School.

RJ just looked at me, waiting for me to go on.

I told him that even though Jesus hadn’t done anything wrong, he was called names and beaten.  I told him about the crown of thorns. And about the cross.

” Did they put the nails in His hands and feet, Grandma?” he asked.  His eyes were solemn.

I knew he knew the story.  “They did,” I said, “and then He died.”

RJ took my face in his hands.  “Then what happened?” he asked.

“Well,” I said.  “That was on Friday.  And on Sunday, some of His friends went to His grave, but His body wasn’t there.  An angel told His friends that Jesus was alive again, just like He said He would be.”

Now we were nose to nose.  “Why did He do it, Grandma?”

“Do what?’

“Die on the cross.”

I told him that Jesus took our sins so that we could go to heaven.  That wasn’t what he wanted.  Was it too much for a six-year-old?

He asked me again,”Why did He do it?”

Nose to nose, I told him, “He did it because He loves us.”

There was a lightening-quick hug, and RJ was off.  The old, old story was told.  Again.

Tell me the story slowly,
That I may take it in–
That wonderful redemption,
God’s remedy for sin;
Tell me the story often,
For I forget so soon,
The “early dew” of morning
Has passed away at noon.

You can find more Spiritual Sunday bloggers here.

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4 Responses to “Tell Me the Old, Old Story”


  1. 1 Charlotte April 5, 2009 at 8:06 pm

    What a marvelous post. It is so important to teach this to the children when they are young. I’ll bet you are a wonderful grandmother. Thank you for sharing this with us today.
    Charlotte

  2. 2 Clif April 5, 2009 at 8:32 pm

    Oh my, how I love that old, old, story and how I love to tell it. You did an absolutely wonderful job of telling this old story. YOU are an excellent story teller. I loved the story of you with your grandson telling him the story and his reaction to it. Wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing this. It is Sunday evening here in Scottsdale, AZ. and this is a wonderful way to start easing into the night.

  3. 3 Ginger April 6, 2009 at 12:16 am

    Being a grandma this brought tears to my eyes. I hope that I have as good as words as you did! Amen!
    God Bless,
    Ginger

  4. 4 nannykim April 6, 2009 at 10:50 pm

    It is amazing no matter how often we think on it—-simply an amazing thing that God has done for us. I don’t think man would have ever conceived of such a thing!!


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