When I was a missionary serving in my first area, I was introduced to a man named Marcel. He had a playful sense of humor even though he lived alone. Roughly in his 60’s he cooked great meals for my companion and myself. I loved eating at his place; nothing fancy, just delicious. Even though we frequented his house often he made little progress in converting to our faith while I was there. He never went to church, although I did hear later that he came one Sunday to say goodbye to one of his favorite missionaries.
Marcel’s sense of humor led him to say things like “I’m almost perfect, there is only one perfect man and that is Jesus, but I’m very close.” He also liked to poke fun at my companion. One time during a lesson we read together about the tree of life from 1 Nephi 8. We used a drawing to illustrate what Lehi saw. We asked Marcel where he thought he was on the image. He said that he was close to the tree. We told him that he wasn’t yet on the path because he needed to be baptized. He used this opportunity to jab at my companion. Turning to me laughing he said, well if I’m out here (pointing to off the path on the paper) then he (pointing to my companion) is off the table way over there. Marcel proceeded to pretend to be a blind man feeling for the Iron rod in the mist of darkness. We all had a laugh.
The next time Marcel joked at my companion’s expense it made a lasting impression on me. We were teaching a lesson, probably repentance, and began to explain the sufferings of Christ for our sins. We tried to keep it serious, but Marcel couldn’t resist a joke. Marcel turned to me and again pointed to my companion and light heartily said, “Jesus suffered a whole lot for that guy.” We were both a little stunned by his comment and laughed politely. My companion was about to fire back, but after thinking about what was said admitted, “yes I did make Him suffer a lot.” Marcel bowed his head and solemnly confessed “Jesus suffered a lot for me too.”
This left me to privately ponder how much of Christ’s suffering I was responsible for. I don’t know how the suffering occurred, but I confessed that I too was a great cause of Christ’s suffering. Because of the numberless humans who lived, it would be near impossible for a single one of us to account for a measurable percentage of Christ’s suffering. However, we did not all contribute equally to the suffering of Christ. We all contributed more or less than another person depending on our obedience to His commandments.
I remember that moment clearly, and it still brings a moment of solemn introspection to consider how much I contribute to the suffering of my Savior. When I remember it in that way, I find an increased desire to minimize my contribution by remaining obedient. May each of us consider our contribution, and work tirelessly to minimize the amount of Christ’s blood to be shed for our decisions.
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