Twitter Trolls

A friend who is new to Twitter came to me with a problem. I wanted to share my response, in case my readers face similar.

Twitter trolls will happen, no matter what you do. It's sad, but some insist on trolling as a way to get their kicks. Don't let them irk you.

I usually investigate to discover why the person attacks a tweet that is not addressed ("@") them.

For this particular troll, he is a frustrated Atheist / former-Christian, who is mad at God because God didn't turn out to be the way he wanted. He also suffers from poor health, which only adds to his frustrations and beliefs that if God really was there and really CARED for him, none of this would happen.

Because he now believes that God doesn't exist, he can no longer take his anger/frustrations out on God - so he targets others (particularly Christians) to troll instead.

So you have a choice:

(1) You can try to get into a theological debate, which will only increase his animosity and attacks. He will continue to "dis" you (is that still a term?) and bring in reinforcements by including other Atheists. They will join in trolling you until they drive you in tears from Twitter. You will not get them to listen that way as the ego can only listen to another ego. And egos love fighting with one another.

(2) You can block him, so you don't see any of his tweets, which helps buffer you from his attacks. This, however, gives his ego a boost. Trolls count "blocks" as "points" in their game. It depends on how much your ego wants to let them "win" that stupid game.

(3) You can ignore him; pretend that his tweets do not exist. Shunning does work. Eventually he gives up and goes away.

(4) You can continue to treat him with kindness, love and respect. He will continue to belittle what you say, but at the same time you are teaching through example, rather than through words alone.

On social media sites, you show others - even those you don't realize - what it is to walk in Christ's steps. What it means to forgive and turn the other cheek.

The lyrical Blessing that came to mind: "May good health return; may you wear a gentle smile. May laughter and Love fill your heart all the while." Feel free to use it. I can't claim full credit anyway, as the Spirit helps me.

May your days of trolls be few

May the Spirit guide what to do

~ ESA

Weeds and Wheat (Parable)

There once was a field planted with the finest seeds of grain.

The sun shown down gentle and warm. The ground, freshly tilled, remained moist with the gentle washings of the rain.

Soon the spouts began to grow, bright and green, as they stretched toward the sun.

As the spouts grew, the weeds snaked their roots under the tilled soil and sprouted their own kind in the field.

Concerned for the grain, the field hands took action.

They heated the plants hoping to scorch the weeds. Many wheat stalks withered. The ground became dry and bitter; roots were pulled up when the wind buffeted the field.

The field hands spread poisons hoping to kill the weeds that way. The wheat itself also sickened, many stalks never gaining the head that grain reaches in its maturity.

As a last resort in their vendetta to kill the weeds, the field hands viciously attacked the field, cutting down stalks of wheat as well as weeds, leaving both to wither and die rootless on the side.

At last the weeds were gone. A fraction of the wheat remained in the field, ready to be harvested.

When the landowner arrived, he looked dismayed at the remaining wheat.

His eyes tearfully moved to the piles of wheat cut and cast with the weeds on the side, the lines of wheat that had sickened and never matured, and the remnants of the wheat that were scorched so badly, they never had the chance to grow.

"What became of the crops I planted?" he inquired of his field hands.

"The weeds had gotten into the field, Master. But don't worry," they added proudly. "We got rid of them."

The landowner wept bitterly...

______________________________________________________

Let those who have ears, hear.

~ESA

Weeds & Wheat (Parable)

There once was a field planted with the finest seeds of grain. The sun shown down gentle and warm. The ground, freshly tilled, remained moist with the gentle washings of the rain.

Soon the spouts began to grow, bright and green, as they stretched themselves toward the sun.

As the spouts grew, the weeds snaked their roots under the tilled soil and sprouted their own kind in the field.

Concerned for the grain, the field hands took action. They heated the plants hoping to scorch the weeds. Many wheat stalks withered. The ground became dry and bitter; roots were pulled up when the wind buffeted the field.

The field hands spread poisons hoping to kill the weeds that way. The wheat itself also sickened, many stalks never gaining the head that grain reaches in its maturity.

As a last resort in their vendetta to kill the weeds, the field hands viciously attacked the field, cutting down stalks of wheat as well as weeds, leaving both to wither and die rootless on the side.

At last the weeds were gone. A fraction of the wheat remained in the field, ready to be harvested.

When the landowner arrived, he looked dismayed at the remaining wheat. He cast his eyes to the piles of wheat cut and cast with the weeds on the side, the lines of wheat that had sickened and never matured, and the remnants of the wheat that were scorched so badly, they never had the chance to grow.

"What became of the crops I planted?" he inquired of his field hands.

"The weeds had gotten into the field, Master. But don't worry," they added proudly. "We got rid of them."

The landowner wept bitterly...
______________________________________________________

Let those who have ears, hear.

~ESA 

Living Example

This is reported as a true story, but I cannot place its origin. Wherever it is from, it holds a valuable message for us.

~ ESA

________________________________________________________________________

In a country where a non-Christian faith was the dominant religion, there lived a small family of Christians. Despite the harassment from military, government and neighbors, the family never diverged from practicing Christianity. The young woman saw her parents killed, then her brother.

This is her story.

While she didn’t see those who slaughtered her parents, she did look onto the face of her brother’s attacker. She had it burned in her mind. Paralyzed with fear and shock, she could do nothing that night.

Left alone, she continued to work as an aide in the local hospital, so she could earn enough to feed and care for herself.

One day, the man that killed her brother was admitted to the hospital with terrible wounds. She recognized him immediately.

He also recognized her, and realized she knew who he was. Bound in several bandages and lines that helped keep him alive, he had no easy means of escape. He lived in constant dread of this woman, for now he was completely at her mercy.

Day-after-day, he wondered how she would extract her revenge on him. Yet, day-after-day she continued to bathe him, feed him and gently tend to his wounds. He began to recover and grow in strength.

At last, the day before he was released from the hospital, he stopped her ministrations, looked her in the eye and asked, “Why?” He was completely baffled and perplexed by her actions. “Why did you do this? You clearly know who I am and what I did. Why did you help me instead of taking your revenge on me? I was at your complete mercy!”

She smiled and responded. “I do know who you are, and I remember everything. I am a Christian. We are taught to forgive and love our enemies.”

Tears started to trickle down the man’s cheeks. Then he wept openly as he admitted, “I had never known there was such a religion…”

Home for the Holiday

It is sad when there are so many dividing lines in the world. When I stumble across the ones in my own life, I sit back and wonder why they are even there. As I have just mentioned to someone on Twitter, while I was raised Christian, I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood. So wishing others a Happy Hanukkah did not seem wrong to me at all... until I was accused of possibly trying to convert them to Christianity.

*Sigh*

The home where I was raised had a Mezuzah beside the door, like every other house in my neighborhood. It was there when we first moved in. When my dad explained what was inside, it reminded me of the words I read in our Old Testament. No biggie - same writing / same God.

While we were one of three families with tree and Christmas lights, in a neighborhood of over 300, I wondered why we didn't have a Menorah glowing in our front window like all the rest. It was explained that we were Christian, not Jewish. That was the first dividing line.

Around our Easter celebration, I actually looked forward to matzo in the supermarket - I used to nibble them row-by-row as a child for a snack. There was also my neighbor's famous matzo ball soup when we sat down to the Passover Seder with them, unless it fell on Easter, at which point we had family gatherings for our holiday that day. Another fine dividing line.

In December, there were many craft and holiday flea markets held selling goods. My mom was a shop-a-holic. So after-school we were dragged to many different places to attend these events. They were many in the local temples, one at our Catholic school in the gym, and one in a parish hall from a Mormon Church. While I and my siblings towed behind my mother from table to table at these events, I had plenty of time to examine the stuff that hung from the walls. I can't read Hebrew, nor could I then. So I asked my mother about the writing in symbols that looked closer to Chinese in my young eyes than the Greco-Roman letters in which I read/write. She explained they were Hebrew and that is what the Jewish teachings were written in. We don't speak or read it because we were not Jewish. Another dividing line.

When I was still in grade school (where I attended Catholic school from grades 1-8), I received my Confirmation. Friends of ours attended it, even though they were not Christian. We also attended their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs too. In fact, several of our class trips in the later grades were to the temple to learn about Judaism. While I heard rumors that the Hebrew grade school did the same as part of a cooperative program with our Church, the majority of the kids in our area attended public school. They found our ceremonies strange and bizarre while we had some vague notion of what theirs were about. After all, Jesus, the focus of our own religious education, had celebrated Jewish holidays and practiced Jewish customs. But my neighbors understood little about our customs and holidays. Another dividing line.

High school wasn't fun for me; I attended an all-girl Catholic Academy. But unlike grade school, I had to take two school buses. I was picked up by the local high-school bus, that rounded up ALL the high-school children in the area - public, Catholic and Hebrew schools. The majority of the public school kids were Jewish. While there was more than one Catholic high school kids in my town attended, overall, in our neighborhood, we made up less than 10% and had to wear these atrocious uniforms. I believe the Hebrew school had uniforms or a dress-code too, but they were not as glaringly obvious as the plaid skirts, ties and school color blazers and sweaters with the school emblems on them. A very obvious dividing line.

We ALL were dropped off at the public school. Then the public school kids went inside (or at least had to be inside by the first bell). The rest of us stood outside as our second bus would travel from town-to-town picking up the kids for our respective high school. While this may have made sense to some administrator, it was torture for us. We had to wear clothes that distinguished us as "separate" from the others, and we were major targets for bullies, teasing and bad-mouthing both on the bus and at the public high school. Why? Because we were not Jewish. They outnumbered us; we were supposed to always forgive, so they assumed there would be no retaliation as well. We had no other way to get to our school; we had to share the ride on "their" bus. At the public school, we had to stay put while they had the opportunity to walk away when they wanted to. They would ask: Why were we living in the neighborhood anyway? It was a JEWISH neighborhood! Christians were not welcome. Even the local "Y" was a YMHA, not a YMCA.

Why were we there? My father worked hard for a living, went to night school to get a law degree and then worked long hours in "the city" (New York City) to earn a good enough living to have a big house in a nice neighborhood for his family. There was no application indicating what religious affiliation we had to have to buy the house. That would be illegal - this is America, home of religious freedom. Right? The other Christians we knew had homes half the size or smaller. Why could we not live in that neighborhood in a big house for a big family?

In the years to follow, I observed further divisions. It was OK to have friends across that religious line. It may even be acceptable to date across the dividing line, if someone better is not available. But one would never assume it's OK to marry across the dividing line... "Think of the kids; they would be confused," was an argument I heard many times - from both sides of the fence. Yet it's the same God...

*Sigh* That was three to four DECADES ago: over a generation.

I don't hold grudges; I am called not to. What was in the past stays in the past - as it should! Hate and division only begets hate, war and violence. None of which I want.

Times have changed, thankfully for the better. In my lifetime, I have seen a growing acceptance across many lines - race, religious and sexual preferences being predominant. There has become a stronger division in political and income lines in these past few years, though. My heart longs to see these reversed too...

I followed my mom back to Long Island Monday, as we are visiting with friends and family here this week as part of our holiday travel. On the way we stopped at the local strip mall to pick up a few items. In the large window before me, the local florist had a winter-scape display with a large menorah predominantly at the center with the correct number of candles aglow. Tuesday at the bowling alley as we were heading out the door, I spied the manager turning the bulb to "light" the last candle as sunset dimmed an already rainy afternoon. I am still a Christian and will always be, but these sights made me feel like "home for the holiday" more than I can express, as much as the scent of a freshly decorated Christmas tree.

We are all brothers and sisters in this world. One race, one humanity. Why do we keep dividing ourselves?

-ESA

Christmas Letter from Jesus/Yeshua

This belongs with the other two posts below. Again, this is an email received that I wish to share. While it is not my intention to negate the messages of the other two, I wanted to give my readers additional food for thought during the Christmas season.

-ESA

____________________________________________________________________

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking my name out of the season.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate my birth, just get along and love one another. 

Now, having said that, let me go on. If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting my birth, then just get rid of a couple of santa's and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn or front windows. If all my followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was my Father who made all trees. You can remember me anytime you see a tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish, as that demonstrates my relation to you and what each of our tasks are.

If you want to give me a present in remembrance of my birth, here is my wish list. Choose something from it: 

• Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way my birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to those in prison, hospitals, and/or soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know; they tell me this.

• Visit someone in a nursing home or someone home-bound. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

• Instead of writing the President complaining about the wording on cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up... It will be nice hearing from you again.

• Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of my birth, and why I came to live with you down there. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them too.

• Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

• Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile; it could make the difference.

• Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one.

• While many feast on Thanksgiving and Christmas and nibble cookies and other treats between the two, many others are hungry, eating cat food or moldy food from the "bargain" racks at the back of the supermarket. Use some of the funds you would buy luxury treats for yourself and pick up a case of canned soup or boxed pasta to donate to the local food bank. The shelves are emptier each year as more people can't afford the basics for their families.

• If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary. They take my love and good news to those who have never heard my name. Many also provide means for clean water, better shelters, education, means of income... things many who read this take for advantage in their lives.

• Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to local churches, police stations, and many charitable organizations who distribute them for you. If you keep your eyes open, many stores now have boxes near the registers waiting for these gifts.

• Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to me, then behave like one of my followers. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in my presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

Don't forget, I can take care of myself. Just love me and do what I have asked you to do. I'll take care of the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court. 

And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those you love and remember.

Feel free to share; this was sent by a friend.

I LOVE YOU!

~ Jesus / Yeshua

Ben Stein Commentary

This is a copy of a commentary I found recently that I wanted to share with the posts above and below. This was written and read by Ben Stein on CBS Sunday Morning.

- ESA 

 __________________________________________________________________________

My confession:

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees "Christmas trees." I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.
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It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. it doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

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I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat!
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Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.
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In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
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Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her, 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding Hurricane Katrina). Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentlemen He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?'
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In light of recent events... terrorist attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeline Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.
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Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem. (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide.) We said an expert should know what he's talking about. We said OK.
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Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'We reap what we sow.'
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Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send jokes through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
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Are you laughing yet?
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Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list beacuse you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
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Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.
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Pass it on if you think it has merit.
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If not, then just discard it...no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
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Ben Stein

Kingdom Visitor (Story)

Once upon a time, in a not too distant land there was a king that loved all the people. Because he had such love for the people, he wanted them to be happy and to love each other as he loved them. One day, he called before him all the magistrates in the land and commanded of them to design a way that would best enable all the people to love one another.

The magistrates gathered and spent much time in council determining the best methods to govern the people that would make them love each other so the king would be happy. They decided on a long list of rules that the people would have to memorize and adhere. They decided on celebration days that would, by their annual repetition, reinforce the rules they established. Further, they set up a system where there would be rewards for those who obeyed the rules and punishment for those who did not.

This, they surmised, was the best way to make the people love each other.

Over the years, the magistrates instructed the people in the rules, meted out the rewards and punishments, and watched the people carefully so they knew who to reward and who to punish. In response, some of the people would either vie with each other to do the most loving acts to gain the best of the rewards, or they followed the rules minimally when they knew they were being watched, lest they face the dreaded punishments.

Then one day, a stranger arrived and set up a temporary home among the people of this kingdom. Within a few days, one of the magistrates presented to her a thick bound volume of the rules. But the stranger handed the book back unopened and, instead, took out her visa which indicated she was not a subject of the king, and thus she was not subject to those rules. The magistrate tried to harass her, but she knew that was the law of all the lands and magistrate could not force their ways on her.

At that time, the king wondered how well the system his magistrates established was working. Were the people truly loving one another as he loved them? Was the system enabling their love for each other to flourish? Or were the people merely following the established set of rules because they sought individually to gain a reward or avoid a punishment? So the king decided to find out for himself. He disguised himself and went out among the people.

Where the magistrates were to be found, people performed all kinds of loving acts, helping one another and more. But where there were no magistrates watching, the poor were left hungry, the cold were left outside alone to fend for themselves, the sick were shoved apart from the healthy, and the outcasts were friendless. There was very little love here.

Then the king spied a young woman, a stranger in this land, and she was doing what the people were not, even when the magistrates were not watching. She shared her supper with someone that had none, she helped carry someone's heavy load, and she welcomed the homeless into the rooms she rented so they would not have to suffer the freezing rain and falling snow. Who was this woman?

The king called court the next day and called this woman before him. "I am king of this realm," he told her, "and I have seen what you have done."

"I know of your rules may be different here, your majesty, but as I am not one of your subjects, so your rules do not apply to me."

"So you do not act as you do fearing punishment?"

"No, sir."

"So you do not act as you do expecting reward?"

"No, sir."

The king's cheeks started to glisten with tears and he stepped down from his throne and faced the woman eye-to-eye. "Then why do you do the things you do?"

The woman shrugged, "It's just the right thing to do. We're all part of this world, we should help each other."

The king stepped forward and embraced the woman fiercely!

When he stepped back he announced, "Let this be known across the land, this woman has acted with Love for her neighbor, not because of reward, not out of fear of punishment - for she clearly does not expect either. She acted simply out of the Love found in her heart. THIS! This is what I sought for my people. All I simply ask is that they love one another."

Love
thy
neighbor

-ESA

Innocence of Eggs (Story)

The fat hen opened one eye and glared at her husband, “What’s a-a-all that ru-ru-ruckus?” she clucked.

The rooster pulled his head out from under his wing and stretched his neck toward the wall. “I’ll g-g-go see,” he replied and fluffed his feathers against the cool desert night. With a few awkward flaps, he crested the stone and mortar wall and looked down into the courtyard. “I-i-i-it looks as i-i-if they’re br-br-bringing a cr-cr-criminal to the high pr-pr-priest,” he reported to his wife.

Before he could turn around to return to their warm nest, the hen was beside him, feathers equally fluffed against the coolness.

“Th-th-the eggs!” the rooster reprimanded.

The hen shrugged and stretched her neck as far as it could go toward the gathering crowd. “I wa-wa-want to see this,” she hissed in reply.

The majority of the crowd moved into the building, but a number of people remained outside in the courtyard, building a charcoal fire to keep warm. While the gathering outside remained peacefully quiet, there was a rising ruckus within the building. The rooster fluttered to an open window to witness the scene inside. The sounds of buffets and cries of “Prophesy!” drifted through the window where the cockerel sat, the glint of battle and bloodlust sparkling in his eyes.

At that moment, a woman left the building on some errand. Spotting the small group gathered near the fire, she eyed one of them closely and remarked, “You also were with Yeshua (Jesus) of Nazareth.”

The man shook his head vehemently, shrugging his head deeper into his head-cloth. “I neither know nor understand what you are saying,” he replied.

Seeing a seed of potential for more conflict and violence, the rooster alighted onto the courtyard wall and crowed, “His words are tr-tr-tr-tr-TRUE!”

The hen was shocked. She knew as well as her husband that those words were a lie. Could his desire for a fight drive him to this? She kept silent, for she didn’t want the fight brought to her nest. What would her friends and neighbors say? No, it’s best to stay silent and let the fight go on elsewhere. She turned her attention back to the group around the fire.

The woman had now turned to the others around the fire; gesturing to the man she had spoken to and said, “This is one of them.”

Again, the man denied it.

By now the rooster was hopping from foot to foot; a wicked gleam in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold below.

One of the others turned toward the man and added, “Surely you are one of them, for you are also a Galilean.”

The accused man began to curse and swear at the others gathered around the fire. “I do NOT know this man you are talking about!” he shouted at them.

With glee, the rooster tossed up his head and crowed again, “His words are tr-tr-tr-tr-TRUE!”

And the hen remained silent.

Upon hearing the rooster’s crow a second time, the man paused as if poleaxed and then broke down and wept, fleeing from the courtyard in tears.

The rooster and hen did not see what became of that man, nor of any of the others gathered around the fire, nor of those still inside the building. For at that moment, an angel of the Lord wrapped in the brilliance of Heaven appeared before them both.

Turning wrathful eyes to the rooster, the angel proclaimed, “Because you have crowed such blasphemy not once, but twice, you shall not live to see another sunrise.”

Then the angel’s glare fixed upon the hen. “Because you knew his words were false and you did NOTHING and said NOTHING, you shall also never see another morning.”

In her horror, the hen finally remembered her nest of eggs cooling in the night air. “I-i-i-if I go, wh-wh-who will ca-ca-care for our ch-ch-chicks? Wi-wi-without one of us he-he-here, how wi-wi-will they sur-sur-survive?”

The angel’s eyes moved to where the nest lay at the foot of the courtyard wall, and the wrath in those eyes became tempered with mercy. “Your chicks are innocent of these crimes. The children should not bear the burden of the sins of the parent. So I will take these with me and they will be kept safe.” With these words, the angel gathered up the eggs, nest and all and vanished. Where they went, neither hen nor rooster knew, for they did not see the next sunrise.

But we know what became of those eggs. For you see, on the very next Sunday morning, a very special Man walked out of a lonely tomb into the rosy light just before sunrise. Nearby, a white-haired rabbit was nibbling quietly on some greens. This rabbit paused and shyly approached this Man. The fact that the feet of this Man had holes, as did the hands that lovingly petting it, did not disturb this rabbit at all. The Man smiled and said to the rabbit, “Because you are the very first of My Father’s creatures to greet me this day, I have a very special task I will ask of you.”

As the Man straightened, an angel appeared at His side. In his hands, the angel held the nest full of eggs, but this time additional branches had been added to the nest, woven in an arc over it. This handle enabled one to carry the nest as a basket, gently keeping the eggs safe.

The Man took the basket and handed it to the rabbit saying, “The world is full of children as innocent as these eggs. And as their innocence fades, they must then start to seek Me. I ask that you bring these eggs to the children everywhere. Do this every year, in memory of this morning. But you must hide the eggs so the children must seek them. Perhaps when their innocence fades, they will remember these mornings and seek me with the same enthusiasm and joy in their hearts. Do this in memory of Me.”

- ESA