This is a article that my Aunt Ella Charlotta
Sandberg Peterson wrote in 1973 for a Swedish Christian magazine. I've
always been kind of interested in her because our names were so similar
and now because we both have such a strong belief in Christ.
Ella Charlotta Sandberg Peterson is on the far right. This is the Carl and Klara's
family (except for Ivar and Sven, who were in the US).-brought to you by Charlotte Bluemlein
HOW BIG IS YOUR JESUS?
by
Ella Petersson
(Written in Swedish and translated by
Sven Sandberg)
In our little chapel we have a large
painting on the wall back of the altar. It is the well-known scene of Jesus
knocking at the door. Painted in soft mellow colors the picture gives an
impression of goodness, love and peace. I never tire of looking at it. I have a
feeling that it talks to me. If I am afraid or uneasy about something, I hear
the words: "Be of good cheer and fear not for I am with you." When I
come tired and discouraged to the service my eyes seek Jesus's, and I seem to
hear him say: "Come to me all you that are tired and heavy laden, and I
will give you peace." When I come
happy and with a song in my heart, I hear: "Rejoice, again I say, rejoice
in the Lord."
One Saturday evening my little
grandson, three years old, was with me when I went to the chapel to decorate
the altar with flowers. When he entered and saw the painting he stood there by
the door awhile still and quiet and just looked. Then he asked me many, many
questions about the picture and all the details, and I tried to explain it all as
simply as I could. We then talked for a while about Jesus like we had done many
times before.
The next time he came with me he
hopped and skipped up to the altar as fast as he could, stretched up his little
hand and happily shouted: "Hi! Jesus." How would you have reacted? I
got just a little bit shook up for it then to me seemed almost sacrilegious, so
I said: "Honey, I really don't think you should greet Jesus in that
manner." He then asked how he should do it and I couldn't think of an
answer. To his second, "How Grandma?" I lamely replied that he could
say, "Good day, Jesus."
When we came to the chapel a week
later he slowly walked up to the altar; bowed deeply" and said: "Good
day, Jesus." He showed no happiness over seeing Jesus again like he had the
time before, and I then realized that I had made a very big mistake, and it was
a lesson to me that I will never forget. I think that we should come to Jesus
like the little boy did the first time. Jesus was not stiff and formal. When he
cured the lame he said: "Take your bed and go." After awakening
Lazarus from the dead simply: "Untie him and let him go."
I think that Jesus wants us to be
ourselves for he knows us well, our faults as well as our good points. Well-chosen
words are not the most important thing when we pray. What counts is that we
pray sincerely from the very innermost of our being. Prayer with clasped hands
is not enough. We must also act. "Plowman pray with your hand upon the
plow when you pray for the crop. We should pray often. It is possible to pray while
doing the day’s work. I have done this for many years. I pray while peeling potatoes,
doing the dishes, cleaning the home. One can always speak to God. He
understands.
Now back to the painting on the wall
back of the altar. I had a new little girl come to my Sunday School class who, when
she first saw the picture exclaimed: “My! What a big Jesus you have. At home we
only have a little one." -- What kind of Jesus have you got? Do you have a
big powerful one that you can trust, confess and pray to? One that is an important
factor in your life? Or do you have a little Jesus that you keep hidden, one that
you are just a little bit ashamed of, but you do take him out and pray to him
when things get really difficult? At other times you get along very well
without him. But –in the Bible it says: "He that confesses me before men,
him I will also confess before my Father. But the one that denies me, him I
will also deny before my Father that is in Heaven."
This article was first published in a
Swedish Christian magazine in 1973. The author, Ella Petersson, is my sister.
