From 26 and 22
The Night Everyone Ran
knows something terrible is about to happen. At the last meal with his friends, he says it out loud: soon all of you will leave me alone.
nearly gets angry. *Not me. Never.*
Later that evening Jesus sits in a garden and he's afraid. Really afraid. He asks his three closest friends to stay awake with him. When he comes back, they're asleep. He wakes them. When he comes back again, they're asleep again.
Then the soldiers arrive. And then they all run away.
Only Peter follows at a distance, all the way to a courtyard where a fire is burning. Someone looks at him and says: weren't you with him? *No.* A little later, again. *I don't know that man.* And a third time. *I don't know what you're talking about.*
Then a rooster crows. Peter gets up, walks outside, and cries.
What happens next is the worst part. Jesus is killed. His friends aren't there; a few women stand watching from a distance. He's laid in a tomb and a stone is rolled in front of it.
And on the third day, that tomb is empty.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
You have a friend from way back. You must have played together a thousand times. But at school he doesn't belong to the group you're part of now.
And then suddenly he's standing next to you on the playground, where everyone can see. Someone asks, laughing: is that a friend of yours? And you shrug and say: not really.
You haven't lied, you tell yourself. You've just made it a bit smaller. But he heard it, and you know he heard it, and it sits in your stomach for the rest of the day.
did it three times in one evening. And he was truly the best friend there was.
Admit I actually hang out with him? I'll pass. Then they'd all know I'm a loser too!
Take a look in the mirror:
- When did you make a friendship smaller because other people were around?
- When did someone need you and you fell asleep, or looked the other way for a moment?
- Who would stand by you if things really went wrong? Do they know that about you?
Mirror line
I'd love to say he wasn't really my friend, but I've learned I usually only say that when I'm scared myself — and that's a very ordinary reason.
From 20
Dare to Ask
After everything that's happened, the friends are sitting together behind a locked door. They're afraid.
isn't there that time. When he comes back, everyone talks over each other: we've seen him.
Thomas doesn't believe it. He says: I want to see it myself. I want to feel it with my own hands. Otherwise, no.
That's a brave thing to say, because he's completely on his own with it. All his friends are saying something different from him.
A week later he is there. And then he hears: come here. Look. Feel.
It doesn't say whether Thomas actually did that. Only that he stopped doubting.
He's ended up with a nickname that doesn't really make sense: doubting Thomas. When really he was the only one who said out loud what he actually thought.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
A story goes around school. Someone did something, or something's about to happen, and everyone's sure of it. Ask where they heard it, and someone says: heard it from Sam. And Sam heard it from someone else.
If you then ask “are you sure?”, they look at you like you're being annoying. Nodding along is easier.
And then that other side of it. You're in class and you don't understand the maths problem. You look around and no one puts their hand up. So neither do you. Afterwards it turns out half the class didn't get it either.
Whoever asks a question is usually asking it for more people than just themselves.
Ask questions? Waste of time. I'll just nod along with everything and call him the weird one!
Take a look in the mirror:
- When did you nod along while you actually didn't believe it?
- What don't you dare ask in class? What would really happen if you did?
- Who around you asks the questions you don't dare ask?
Mirror line
I'd love to just nod along without understanding a thing, but I've learned that whoever dares to ask a question is usually asking it for more people than just themselves.
From 2
A Strange Kind of Language Lesson
The friends are all sitting together in one house. Suddenly a sound like a rushing wind fills the room, and it's as if little flames appear above their heads.
They go outside, onto the street. The city is busy. There are people from every corner of the world.
And then comes the strange part. The friends speak, and everyone who hears them, hears it in their own language. Not: everyone suddenly speaks the same language. Everyone hears it in the language of home.
The people can't make sense of it. Some say: they've had too much to drink. Later the friends explain it was the that had come over them.
Remember that tower, from earlier in this book? That went wrong when everyone was the same and still stopped listening to each other. Here, exactly the opposite happens.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
A new kid joins the class who barely speaks the language yet. And the whole class starts talking slowly and loudly, as if he's a bit deaf.
Then there's one person who does something different. Who sits down next to him and points things out. Or draws it. Or learns three words in his language and gets them completely wrong, which makes everyone laugh — him too.
That works. Not because it's easier, but because that one person wasn't waiting for the other to become like them.
Adjust, calmly? Far too much effort. I'll just drum it into his ear if I have to!
Take a look in the mirror:
- Who do you sometimes talk to louder or slower than you need to?
- What can you do that no one else in your class can? Does anyone actually know that?
- What three words would you want to learn in someone else's language?
Mirror line
I'd love to just talk louder, but I've learned you don't understand each other better by raising your voice — only by doing something slightly different from everyone else.
