It's 5:17 AM and I'm sitting in my Honda Civic in the church parking lot eating discount Easter chocolate because apparently when you accidentally turn the most sacred moment in human history into a Playmobil drama your brain demands sugar and public shame locations.
The security guard already came by once asking if I was okay and I started rambling about how I had eight-year-olds directing a stop-motion crucifixion scene with superhero figures, so he just nodded slowly and walked away.
Yesterday I thought I'd create an "immersive Holy Week experience" and somehow ended up with Tyler asking his grandmother if Jesus knew he was going to become a toy when he died on the cross.
How do you explain to a sweet old Baptist lady that you accidentally turned her Savior into a collectible figurine?
The exact moment my Easter lesson imploded
So there I am feeling incredibly innovative about hands-on biblical education when I bring out my collection of action figures for kids to "bring the Easter story to life through creative play."
Seemed brilliant until Emma grabs the Jesus figure and starts making him fly around going "whoosh, resurrection powers activate!" like he's some kind of religious superhero.
Then Marcus takes the Roman soldier figures and starts an elaborate battle scene complete with sound effects, shouting "Die, Jesus, die!" while making explosion noises with his mouth.
Suddenly I'm watching children turn the crucifixion into what looks like a very violent episode of Toy Story and I wanted to disappear into the supply closet forever.
Sweet little Hannah raises her hand and asks, "Miss Rebecca, if Jesus could come back to life, why didn't he just respawn faster like in my brother's video games?"
My personal catalog of Easter teaching disasters
This isn't my first resurrection catastrophe. I've been systematically destroying Holy Week for years:
Two years ago: Created an Easter egg decorating station where kids could "design their own resurrection symbols." Perfect until Connor made his egg look like a hamburger and announced that Jesus probably got really hungry after being dead for three days.
Last year: Had kids build tomb dioramas out of shoe boxes with moveable rocks. Disaster when Sophie kept making her Jesus figure go in and out of the tomb like a jack-in-the-box while singing "pop goes the Jesus."
Three years ago: Made resurrection pancakes that we flipped to show Jesus "rising" from the griddle. Backfired when kids started calling breakfast "Jesus pancakes" and asking if eating them counted as communion.
Four years ago: Created an Easter garden sensory experience with dirt, seeds, and plastic flowers. Chaos when Tyler ate some of the dirt because he thought it would help him "grow like Jesus did."
Every creative attempt has somehow made the most sacred story in Christianity more confusing instead of more meaningful.
The egg hunt that destroyed my credibility
Three years ago I achieved peak insanity by hiding plastic eggs around the church with Bible verses inside, thinking kids would discover the "treasure of God's word" through searching.
I told them that finding eggs with Scripture would help them understand the joy of discovering Jesus had risen from the dead.
Seemed theologically sound until kids started trading verses like Pokemon cards, arguing about which Bible passages were more "rare" and valuable than others.
The final horror when precious Hannah found an egg with John 3:16 and burst into tears because she thought it meant God was angry that she found the "important one" first and might take it away from someone who needed it more.
I accidentally taught children that God's word comes in collectible formats and that some people deserve better Bible verses than others.
The midnight text that ended a friendship
Easter Sunday at 1:43 AM I texted my mentor Carol who's been teaching Easter lessons for thirty years without creating theological disasters:
Me: "Carol EMERGENCY I think I turned the crucifixion into a toy commercial and now kids think Jesus action figures are how we remember his sacrifice help me"
Carol: "Rebecca honey what have you done"
Me: "I was creating experiential learning through interactive biblical storytelling with manipulatives"
Carol: "Baby girl these children don't need Jesus's death to feel like playtime they need it to feel like the moment love conquered death"
Me: "But how do I make 2000-year-old events feel real to kids who live in a digital world"
Carol: "Maybe try remembering that the story of God dying for love is already more real than any toy or game you could use"
She changed her number the next day and I probably deserved it.
The parent conference that shattered my soul
Monday after Easter, Tyler's parents requested an emergency meeting with Pastor Mike.
"Rebecca, Tyler's been having some concerning thoughts about Jesus lately. He asked if Jesus comes in different action figure sizes and whether we could buy the deluxe resurrection set with sound effects. He also wants to know if playing with Jesus toys counts as prayer time. What exactly is your curriculum approach because this seems problematic."
I wanted to melt into the church carpet and become part of the institutional flooring permanently.
How do you tell parents that you accidentally merchandised their child's understanding of salvation?
The email that made me consider joining a monastery
Tuesday morning I got this from Emma's mom:
"Rebecca, Emma has been asking some unusual questions about Easter. She wants to know if Jesus gets royalties every time someone buys a cross necklace, and whether the disciples were like Jesus's action figure sidekicks who came in a separate pack. She's also been setting up elaborate crucifixion scenes in her dollhouse and making her Barbie dolls watch. Should I be concerned? Please clarify what teaching methods you've been using. Thanks!"
I read this while eating ice cream for breakfast and seriously googled "convents that accept people with questionable ministry experience."
The Easter that accidentally saved everything
Four weeks ago I was having a complete emotional breakdown and forgot all my creative props, so I just sat with kids in a circle and told them about the women going to Jesus's tomb on Easter morning.
No action figures. No craft projects. No activities where children had to make or manipulate anything.
Just the simple story of people who loved Jesus discovering that death couldn't hold him and running to tell everyone the incredible news.
Something beautiful happened. Dead silence. Complete attention.
Kids asked genuine questions: "Were they really scared?" "How did they know it was true?" "What did they do when they saw him alive?"
We talked about how Jesus coming back to life means we don't have to be afraid of death, and children connected with that because being scared of losing people they love is something they actually experience.
Not because they got to play with religious action figures.
Sitting in this car at 5:48 AM understanding everything
I've been so desperate to make Easter engaging that I forgot it's already the most engaging story ever told.
When I turn the crucifixion into toy theater, kids remember my props instead of Jesus's sacrifice.
When I make the resurrection feel like playtime, children think it's entertainment instead of reality.
When I force the Gospel to sound like their favorite activities, I'm teaching kids that spiritual truth only matters if it comes packaged like their toys and games.
These precious children don't need Easter to be interactive entertainment. They need Easter to be the true story that changes everything.
What I'm going to try next year assuming they don't fire me
Just telling the Easter story like it's the most important true thing anyone could ever hear.
No action figures that turn sacred moments into toy commercials. No activities that make Jesus's death feel like playtime. No props that distract from the message that God loves them enough to die for them.
Just "this really happened and it means death isn't the end and you are loved more than you could ever imagine."
If they have questions about dying and coming back to life, we'll talk about them honestly. If they need comfort about scary things, we'll provide it.
But I'm done turning the most sacred story ever told into entertainment that accidentally teaches children that Jesus's death and resurrection are just really cool things that happened like the plots of their favorite movies.
Maybe the most powerful Easter lesson is simply helping kids understand that Jesus really died and really came back to life because he really loves them that much, and that's more amazing than any toy or game or activity I could ever create.
The chocolate is gone but I'm still sitting in this parking lot because apparently processing your holiday teaching disasters requires public spaces and sugar that tastes like childhood marketing strategies.
Time to go inside and figure out how to undo years of accidentally teaching kids that Easter is about interactive entertainment instead of the reality that God would rather die than live without them.
