But… Who is this Guy!?

But… Who is this Guy!?
   Cool! For Easter (the bunnies’ special day), my parents let me stay up late with them to watch a special film.
The film told the story of a King come from another world who had incredible magic powers, who was quiet and modest. Even though (in this film in any case) he never smiled, he genuinely loved the very worst type of human trash and lived alongside them (I mean people that the rest of society has rejected). He loved them so much… all his miracles were for them.
‘‘But… but who is this guy!?’’
My father added:
‘‘Moreover, it’s a true story.’’
‘‘Huh!? I’ve never heard anything like this before!
Why do we never talk about this? Wha…? …Jesus…’’
 The “trial’’
The people could either vote for Barabas a murderer, who’s got smelly feet to boot, or for Jesus.
The baddies had stirred the crowd up to shout:
‘‘Barabas! Barabas!’’
There were only a few who were shouting for Jesus – just his mom, one or two friends and… me.
I jumped up and down on my seat, shouting:
‘‘Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!’’
My father:
‘‘Hey! Enough of that! It’s only a film!’’
Then the unthinkable happened: Barabas won…
What kind of world have I been born into? How could
you find someone so innocent to be guilty? I couldn’t bear
to see him being struck, spat upon, insulted, mistreated, having to carry this heavy beam in the shape of a cross…
He had been so kind to all these people… and they’re nailing him to it!
Wait, hey, stop! this can’t be happening!
With all his special powers,  with one breath he could wipe them from the face of the earth! But instead of doing that, he asks his dad, “God’’ (#%?! So who’s that then?!):
‘‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’’
Me: BLAM! As I was weeping over his death, my father tried to put things into perspective:
‘‘Huh! In any case, he comes alive again afterwards!’’
Whaaat?! But nobody ever comes back to life, at least… What’s going on…?
Many years later, when I was a teenager I found some Christian comics in the trash (www.tournesol.ch). And it
was only then, through my tears, that I understood that Jesus had undergone the cross of his own free will, through love for us… for me.
For them
   I’ve been writing comics for over nineteen years now (and taking part in special events and other foolish things), giving me in turn frequent chances to share his message with others. It’s not an easy path to take, there is joy, but also mockery and hardships to be endured. When I feel like giving up, I find strength by remembering the two people
for whom I do all of this, the little boy sitting upon a chair on that Easter evening who would have given anything to know more about Jesus… and his God, who would
have given anything to tell him more.
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