Louise the Third

21 Mar 2012

Spanish Jesus

   ”Who will volunteer to go next?” My Spanish teachers asks to a room filled of students refusing to make eye contact. No one wants to get picked. Everyone wants one more day to memorize more conjugations, learn more about their subject. 

    “No one? Alrighty then…Caitlyn! You go.”  

    “Por favor. No.” I plead, I did my project,well at least the physical side of it but talking about it… didn’t really plan anything yet. I would have to make it up as I went along. (Whereas the typical student had written out what they were going to say, memorize it and was able to recall it for the presentation.) 

    I search the room and with panicked eyes I beg anyone to volunteer. I’m met with silence. With shifting eyes no one dares to look my way. 

     As I rise to go to the front of the room and ‘wing it’ I give one more sweeping glance.  



 Grimacing, I go to meet my fate. It’s just a project, right? No big deal. I can do this. I know Spanish! I move again to approach the front of the room. 


    “I volunteer!” A boy out of no where cries out. 

    “Que?” (What?) The teacher, along with everyone else is puzzled. 

     “I’ll go for her. It’s no big deal.” Shaun shrugs off his sacrifice. 

     A rush of relief flushes over me. Thank God! And then… it hits me.


     He took my place, so I wouldn’t have to suffer through something I wasn’t prepared to do. 

     He took my place.

     He sacrificed.

     He took the brunt of the pain so I wouldn’t have to. 

     This guy, in Spanish class no less, is illustrating what Christ did for me. He did what no one else could, or was willing to do.  When the world turned their back to my pain in suffering, He took me in. He took my place. This boy in Spanish class took the pain, the awkwardness, the pressure from me presenting and lumped it onto Himself. Just like Jesus.