Wilbur

Laura Booz: I’m telling you, not a single day goes by that I don’t need to rely on a perspective I gained in the fourth grade play. 

I suppose it all started when my music teacher, Mrs. Whittmer, hosted a casting call for Escape from Egypt, a rollicking musical in which a Sunday school teacher makes the Exodus story from the Bible come alive for her students. 

Mrs. Whittmer was looking for a convincing Moses, a confident Aaron, a show-stopping Miriam, and a dozen Israelites and Sunday school children. I couldn’t wait to try out. 

But then, alas, auditions were scheduled for the same week I’d be on vacation. I couldn’t believe the tragic timing. 

I left a note on Mrs. Whittmer’s desk. It said something to the effect of: 

Dear Mrs. Whittmer,

Although I’m excited about my family vacation, I am terribly sad about missing auditions. Would you please consider allowing me to be in the play anyway? I understand that this request is simply too extravagant to consider, but I would be grateful for the smallest part. Even if I only had one line, one word, it would mean the world to me. 

Love your student, 

Laura.

Vacation was fraught with anxiety. What would Mrs. Whittmer decide?

Hi there, you’re listening to Expect Something Beautiful with Laura Booz. I hope today’s episode gives you peace about the role you play in this grand story of life. 

When I returned from vacation, my classmates were abuzz with excitement. Auditions went great, the cast list was out, and every part was taken. Mrs. Whittmer called me to her desk. I walked up slowly, staring at my sneakers, but then she handed me a script, and she said, “You’re in the play.” 

And not just in the play, but she had written in a special part just for me. She said I would be a girl in the Sunday school class, sitting on the riser, stage left. I’d be sitting right behind a naughty boy named Wilbur. 

Mrs. Whittmer told me that when we got to part in the script when Wilbur misbehaves, I should stand up, put my hands on my hips, and say his name as loudly as I could. I nodded, catching her vision. Oh, this was going to be good! 

I was determined to make her proud. So, I practiced my line until it was just right. As it turns out, there are many ways to deliver such a line. 

I could say it with an air of warning: Wilbur!
I could say it with a bit of shock: Wilbur!
I could say it with judgmental annoyance: Wilbur! 

By opening night, I had it just right. To tell you the truth, I don’t remember much about the performance, but I do remember sitting on the risers, feeling perfectly content to watch the other students deliver their lines. 

I remember Moses and Aaron truly seeming to come to life right before our eyes. 

I remember one of my friends playing the part of Miriam as if she were Miriam herself. 

And I got to be part of it. 

It never dawned on me to be jealous of the other actors. It never dawned on me to be unhappy with my role. After all, I didn’t really deserve to be in the play in the first place. Everything about it was a gift.

Oh, and get this, the next day, one of the older girls on my bus came up to me with a great big smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She said that when I said my line in the play, I made her laugh so hard she fell off her chair! She fell off her chair! 

I hadn’t thought about how my little line would impact anyone, and yet as it turned out, I made a fifth grader laugh. And I still get a kick out of that to this day. 

You know, that experience may have been the first time I saw myself as being one small character in something bigger than myself. And that fourth grade play was part of something bigger than itself. 

It was a retelling of the Exodus story. And the Exodus story is part of something bigger than itself too, because it is the foreshadowing of Christ. 

I am glad I enjoyed every minute of it. And oh, how I need to lean in and learn a thing or two from my younger self. I need to take a lesson from that perfectly happy little girl, who had one little line in a little school play, or I often get confused about my role here on earth, in life, don’t you? 

Sometimes I wonder if I matter at all, if my little contribution makes any difference. While other times, I wonder if maybe I am the lead in this show, and the entire universe, the Bible and all, revolves around me. But the fourth grade play sets me straight. 

For what is all of this but a gift? And who are we but precious people who are invited by God Himself into a story far bigger than ourselves? Each of us is given a role that He has designed just for us. And we have the honor and joy of accepting that role and putting our whole heart into it, our real genuine effort. 

I don’t know about you, but it helps me to know from the start that I am not the central character, but Christ is. It frees me up to be curious about Him, and it helps me to see life through a lens that is blessedly humble. 

Instead of opening my Bible or starting my day and expecting or demanding that it all be about me, I can look for Jesus. You can look for Jesus. For together, we are essential supporting characters, revolving around the hero, responding to the hero, relying on the hero, and telling His story together. 

We take our place. We play our part, and happily, contentedly watch our dear friend, Christ Himself, shine. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything He might be preeminent. 

Expect Something Beautiful is a production of Revive Our Hearts, calling women to freedom, fullness, and fruitfulness in Christ.