My Big Brother
Literary Works
When I was just a child I had a big brother. He was great to me. He'd
take me by the hand and we'd go running down the stream bank together.
At times like this I felt so good. He didn't seem to mind my tagging
along one bit, and there was nothing I liked better.
I was so proud of him. When I was with him, I felt I was beaming
stronger than the sun. He was good at everything. I never could seem
to match the mountains he'd make out of sand. Mine would always seem to
crumble and sag, but his would stand as firm as the Rocky Mountains.
Father always tried not to show how proud he was of him -- he being the
oldest and all, but his smile always seemed to beam a little brighter
when my brother was around.
I felt my world collapsed when he went on his mission. Father and
Mother both had to fight back the tears, but he called Father
regularly and let us know how much he loved us. He told us all about
his mission so Mother wouldn't worry.
Ther persecution was really great there with the church just getting
its start. But he never seemed to let himself get down, even though
the people wouldn't believe the message. We would all share in his joy
when he'd get some new converts, but I was frightened that the
non-believers would do something to him. It even got the point where
men were plotting to take his life, but Father never seemed to be
worried, for some reason.
Then one day we received word that his mission had ended. I was
struck sick by the terrifying news. They finaly got hold of my big
brother. My brother whom I loved so much. The one who never seemed
to be capable of doing anything wrong. My big brother who loved everyone
he knew, and whom almost everyone loved.
They beat him and mocked him. He suffered all they did to him without
striking back. Why would anyone want to hurt my big brother? I couldn't
understand.
A mob took him to a hill just outside of town and, spitting on him,
they nailed him alive on a wooden cross. My soul moaned as I heard that
he begged Father to forgive them. Wracked with unbearable pain, he gave
up his life for what he believed. My big brother, my king, and my
idol was dead. I cried through what seemed like the darkest day of my
life. Where was my brother with whom I'd shaped mountains of sand? Why
did he of all my brothers have to die like this? I felt Father's
strong arm around my shoulder and heard him say: "He did it for you...
for you and your brothers and sisters."
Time passed and I was called on my mission. Sometimes I tend to forget
what happened so long ago, but every Sunday a small piece of bread and
a small cup of water reminded me of my big brother and what he did for
me, and it assures me that he yet lives.
Revised by Sonya Peterson
