(Written two Easters ago)

Did you know that Easter was on April 9th in 1950? That was a very special Easter for me. I was 14 and in the 8th grade at Sunnyvale Elementary School. I was attending the First Baptist Church mostly because some cute girls were going there. I remember being surprised when two Fremont High seniors asked me to be in the play on Easter Sunday night that the high school youth group was going to perform. I thought it was great rehearsing with the older kids - I was needed to play the part of the young son in the production.

My “father” was a Jewish carpenter that I worked with. The Romans had forced him to make crosses for their crucifixions. In the events of the play, I happen to witness a crucifixion - the crucifixion of Jesus. My “family” had been fascinated by this teacher who had done so many amazing things. In fact, we had begun to think that He might even be the Promised Messiah. Now, however, Jesus had been put to death by the - the Romans?, the Jewish leaders? - who was responsible? As I stood watching the crucifixion, I was horrified to realize that we - my dad and I - had brought about His death because there on His cross was our shop’s mark. We had made the cross on which Jesus died. I ran home knowing we had a part in putting to death the hopes of so many. I had helped make the cross on which the Promised One of God had just died. I wept as I told my parents the awful news. How could a holy God ever forgive us? Then, days later, my parents and I were in a large crowd that saw the risen Jesus. He seemed to search the throng of people just for us. His look of love not only told us we were forgiven, but that somehow were privileged to be part of the greatest story ever to be told. As we put on that drama on Easter Sunday, I did more than just recite lines from a play. The reality that my actions, my “sin”, were part of the reason Jesus died began to change my relationship with the risen Lord. It was very emotional.

And how did I come to think of this event in my life so many years ago? There is a young lady who graduated from Fremont in 1977 who is the secretary of the Alumni Association. She has been compiling information about Coach Ken Stanger who was Fremont’s football coach in the late ‘40s and through the ‘50s. He is battling cancer and Susan e-mails the alumni with updates on how he is doing. Though I have never met her personally, we have had e-mail contact as I have shared some of my “Coach Ken” stories. Not long ago I received a letter from Susan in the mail. When I opened it I found a “program” from that Easter play, “The Sign of the Cross”, included with a short note. It read, “I was looking through some of my mom’s things and found this program. My mom, Helen Hill, who graduated from Fremont in 1950, played the Jewish mother in that Easter drama. I also noticed that a Jerry Hitchman played Andrew, the son. Any chance that could be you?” I was delighted to e-mail her that I was the same “actor” who played the part of a boy who experienced the heartache of realizing he’d had a major role in Jesus’ death and then being overwhelmed by the knowledge that this same Jesus would forgive me. I also thanked her for reminding me of my own Easter “miracle” just one year later at Mt. Hermon when I committed my whole life to the Lord Jesus at a Pre-Easter camp.

It is just like the Lord to allow others to remind us of His faithfulness. Now, as I look back at these two events, these thoughts come to my mind this Easter. First, will I ever understand God’s great love? I don’t think I can! In Romans 5:8 it says that He was willing to die for me while I was still His enemy. That’s amazing! And this; how can I ever understand His ways? I can’t! But, I am promised in Philippians 4:7 that “God’s peace-which surpasses all understanding-will guard my heart and mind through Christ Jesus”. For now, that must be enough. So, this Easter I praise Him again for His wonderful plan for my life and for giving me stories to tell. Some of joy. Some of pain. But, always stories of a loving God whom we can trust.

Coach Hitch