I was privy to an impromptu dance party tonight, accompanied by an original piece of music, preformed by my precious Hope. Here’s a bit of it for you.
Hope: (singing a catchy little tune) I love you, Jesus. You are my server. In heaven, you are our server. Jesus you are my server.
Amanda: I like your song Hope. What does that mean? How does he serve us?
Hope: (looks at me as if I should know) All the food….up in heaven. He serves us the food and when we run out of tortillas he sneaks away and makes some more.
(This part probably stemmed partly from an earlier conversation we had about what heaven would be like and how there would be a great banquet...and also from the fact that we have been out of tortillas for two days now.)
Amanda: Well, you’re right. He did come to earth to serve us. But now, we serve him and in heaven we will serve him forever.
Hope: Okay. (starts singing again) Jesus, you are my server. You died on the cross for me. And so you are my server.
Amanda: (ding…the light goes on) Hope, do you mean Savior? Jesus is our Savior?
Amanda: Oh. It’s Savior. Saaaaavior.
Hope: Oh. (singing again) Jesus, you are my Savior……
She's right, though. His whole life was about being our server...Praise God!...I am so unworthy. And, you know what else? It may not be theologically accurate, but I have a feeling that, in heaven, Jesus would be the kind of person that would sneak off and make tortillas if we ran out. That sounds like him.