“I really wish I could do the drama,” I said disappointedly, “but I have dance rehearsal at twelve on Saturday and homework on top of that.” It was a rainy Sunday morning only two weeks ago, and youth group had just ended.
“Mr. Heath said that we’re performing at 9:45 in the morning on Saturday, remember?” was Clara’s exasperated response. “You could still do it!”
Oh dear. The opportunity to be in the drama my youth group was performing at “Octoberfest” was right in front of me, but quick decision-making has never been my forte and I only had ten minutes! The first of two practices was about to begin and I ran quickly up to the main church building in the rain to talk with my parents. “Do I want to sacrifice sleeping in to be in a drama that I might not even like’?” was the question that went through my head multiple times within those few minutes.
Deciding to go for it, I made my way through the constant patter of raindrops back to the youth room. As I walked in, soaking wet and at least fifteen minutes late, it looked as though they had already given out roles and started working.
“What is it, Malorie?” Alisa, my youth pastor’s wife, asked as I stood dripping in the doorway.
“Oh, well I just talked with my parents and... I still, I guess I took too long.” is what I managed to stammer out. Reverting back to my old habit of vacillating, I wondered if I should keep talking, or just walk away. Eventually they realized that I wanted to be in the drama and stuck me in as a demon.
Having been handed an empty Root Beer bottle, I sat down on my knees, attempting to mimic those around me. Michaela, Katrisha, and I were representing alcohol, while the other demons were representing greed, holding money. My beautiful best friend, Clara, was standing with chains around her. Justin, another friend, was holding the chains from behind with an extremely evil expression on his face. Playing the part of Satan, Justin jerked Clara around the room. At this point in the play Ben came up. He was a comfort to her, and for a short while they danced together. He, however, turned against Clara. Using her for his own benefit, Ben threw her down like everyone else.
Jesus, played by Jake, was standing at one end of the room, reaching and crying for His child who was hurting. Demons on the other side were trying to pulling her toward them, counting “1, 2, 3, and 4” in sync with music pulsing in the background. The song, “Locked In a Cage” by Skillet, said,
“Hold me down 'cause I want to know You. You bring calm to my rage. You are life and I'm thirsting for You. Hold me, hold me, locked in a cage.”
As Justin pulled her around the stage, it showed the battle invisible to our natural eyes. The Devil places things in front of us to make us fall. In this drama it was greed, alcohol, partying, and sex. Just watching Clara act out this part hurt me. The thought of my best friend in bondage was disgusting.
My youth pastor, Heath, continually said, “Be evil, demons. Play it up! The worse you are, the better Jesus will look.”
Though I wanted it to appear real, it was easy to feel foolish practicing this drama. Trying to portray a character I never want to be in reality was a challenge. I knew that it was an opportunity to show people God’s true character and it was worth it. In the end, Jake showed the audience how Jesus died on the cross to save that girl from her sins. He took the chains for Clara and put them upon himself.
The pain I felt while watching Clara is nothing compared to what the Lord feels constantly for every person who succumbs to the enemy’s temptations. Her character showed me the hopelessness people feel when they put their value in something that will only harm them. People’s desperate attempts to fill their emptiness won’t end until they find who they truly need, the one and only Savior, Jesus Christ. After performing the drama on Saturday, I realized how immense God’s love is for us, a love that reaches beyond every sin we commit.
Walking in the dreary, dripping weather of that Saturday morning, I told my friend what I’d learned from watching her.
“Good Job, Clara.”
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