The Easter my son was two, Jack’s Sunday School teacher brought a huge bouquet of helium balloons and let each child choose one to take home. Jack chose red. Proudly and joyfully, he carried his bobbing balloon down the church hallway to the Fellowship Hall, where Doug and I stopped to chat with our associate pastor, Steve, and his wife about our recent visit to Steve’s hometown.
A few minutes into our conversation, Jack let out a piercing wail. He had let go of his balloon, and it floated to the top of the Fellowship Hall, some 12 feet above our heads.
“Oh sweetie.” I picked Jack up as he began to sob. “That’s so sad.”
Steve said to Jack, “Hey, pal, don’t worry. I’ll go get a ladder. We’ll get it down.”
“No, please,” I said. “Please don’t. We believe in letting him experience the consequences of his actions.”
But Steve had already headed across the Fellowship Hall in search of a ladder. He turned around. “It’s Easter, Kimberlee. There are no consequences.”
Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!
Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!
Christ is risen!
Alleluia! He is risen indeed!
And now, thanks be to God, there are no consequences.
