Drama Ministry

OH NO! It's show time...where's Jesus?

It was finally here. Opening day! The biggest Easter play the church had ever produced. We had hundreds of cast members - sixty-eight speaking roles and over seventy nonspeaking roles. We had animals: donkeys, goats, and sheep. And we had birds - doves to be exact - one dozen beautiful white doves. Costumers had spent countless hours sewing and mending and hemming. The tech crew had like­wise spent days getting the lights just right. We had sunrises. We had sunsets. We had shooting stars. We had light pouring out of the open tomb through clouds of thick white smoke. It was beautiful. A sight to behold. It was, quite frankly, perfect. Our final dress rehearsal the night before was flawless. As the director, I literally had only two notes for the cast and crew the night before­: "That was fantastic!" and "See you in the morning! "
 
Well, there's an old saying in the theatre world: A bad final dress means a great opening night. A great final dress means a bad opening night. An old wives' tale. A superstition. Greenroom banter. I never paid it any mind at all.
 
Until 6:00 a.m. arrived. It was opening day. The cast began filing in, drinking coffee, eating donuts or bagels. Chattering to help shake loose the nerves. Everyone was supposed to be in by 6:30, in costume and makeup by 8:00. At 7:45 I did a quick walk-thru through of the dressing rooms and greenroom. Everything was going smoothly. And then it happened. A tiny little voice. A child. Donut and orange juice in hand, he says, "Where's David? " Our Jesus. Okay, I thought, don't panic. David has never been late. He'll be here; I'll give him fifteen minutes. Okay, ten. I grabbed my cell. I punched in David's home number. Nothing. I called his cell. "Hi, this is David. I'm so sorry I missed your call. If you leave me a message, I'll call you just as soon as I can. Thanks and God bless you. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep." I left a very detailed, but sympathetic (in case he was hurt or dead) message. We waited. We prayed. We waited some more. We prayed some more.

It was now 8:35. The program was to start at 9:10. The clock seemed to be ticking faster this morning for some reason. I could almost swear I could see that minute hand clicking closer to the number two! Okay, we couldn't wait any longer. I had to find someone in the cast who knew Jesus' lines. Someone. Anyone. Anyone at all. I had a cast of thousands and no one seemed to know Jesus' lines - except me. I could see my choice was clear. I grabbed David's costume and suddenly realized that David is 5'6" while I am 6'2". Uh-oh. Trouble. "No problem!" yelled my head seamstress. She grabbed some white muslin, pinned it to the bottom of my robe, and shoved me onstage. The spotlight hit me and, surprisingly, I began to speak the words of Christ. The show went off without any major problems after that (well, we won't talk about the Ascension, with the Lord's feet dangling from Heaven).
 
I later learned that David's wife, Denise, had given birth to their first son that morning at 3:30 a.m. - a month early. Mother and child were fine. David was fine. I was fine. Just goes to show you - whatever obstacle you may face during a big performance can be overcome.
 
Just keep extra cloth on hand and always wash your feet!
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