I just finished "being" the Apostle Paul for the third night. And for the most part it's been a blast.
But not tonight.
Tonight, one of the questions Paul asked the kids (as we hid in a room from an "angry mob") was: Have you ever been in a situation when believing in Jesus or talking about Jesus caused you a problem?
And every single group, with the exemption of the fours and under, had a story to tell.
The twelve, ten, seven, six and five year olds all went on and on about how they were excluded, made fun of, ridiculed and shamed by their friends, family members, coaches and teachers for believing in Jesus.
There was no prodding here. There wasn't the usual two minutes of silence waiting for the kids to answer. There was no "parroted tales." Their stories jumped to life immediately. They varied greatly.
And in the darkness of the room, lit only by little electronic tea lights, I found myself wiping tears from my eyes . . . .