There is a story about a boy named Norman in Robert Fulghum’s book Uh–Oh.
Norman’s teacher announced the spring play for the year—Cinderella. Chaos ensued as a sea of arms waved wildly. Each student trying to get the teacher’s attention. “I want to be Cinderella!” every girl yelled. “I want to be the handsome prince!” the boys shouted. Realizing that not everyone could have the same part, the students soon erupted into urgent requests for other parts. “I want to be the wicked stepmother!” “I want to be an ugly stepsister!” Somehow the teacher was able to wade through all the requests, and soon everyone was assigned a part.
Except for Norman. Norman was a quiet young man who didn’t talk much in class. He wasn’t shy or bashful; he just didn’t feel like talking a lot of the time. Talking about nothing was a waste of time to Norman; he talked only when he had something to say. Norman had a mind of his own and was perfectly comfortable just being himself.
Concerned because there weren’t any characters left (even though she had made up many extra parts) and knowing Norman very well, the teacher said, “Norman, I’m afraid all the main parts have been taken for Cinderella. I’m sure we can find an extra part for you. What character would you like to be?” Norman didn’t hesitate. “I would like to be the pig,” he declared. “Pig?” the teacher said, bewildered. “But there is no pig in Cinderella.” Norman smiled and said, “There is now.”
Norman designed his own costume with a paper cup for a nose and pink long underwear with a pipe cleaner tail. Norman’s pig followed Cinderella wherever she went and became a mirror of the action on stage. If Cinderella was happy, the pig was happy; if Cinderella was sad, the pig was sad.
One look at Norman, and you knew the emotion of the moment. At the end of the play, when the handsome prince placed the glass slipper on Cinderella’s foot, the couple hugged and ran off happily together.
Norman went wild with joy, danced around on his hind legs, and broke his silence by barking. In rehearsal, the teacher had tried explaining to Norman that even if there was a pig in Cinderella, pigs don’t bark. But as she expected, Norman explained that this pig barked. And the barking, she had to admit, was well done.
The presentation at the teachers’ conference was a smash hit. At the curtain call, guess who received a standing ovation? Of course, Norman, the barking pig who was, after all,
the real Cinderella story.
What I love about the story is Norman’s stubbornness. Impervious to intimidation, resisting the limits of the script, Norman refused to believe he had no place. Rather than the script limiting Norman, Norman found a way to enhance the script, to fill it full of life, and laughter, and surprise. Norman was so like Jesus. The religious leaders of the day had written the script for the Messiah. When Jesus announced that he was the messiah, the Pharisees and others screamed at him, "There is no Jesus in the Messiah script. Messiahs do not hang out with losers. Our Messiah does not break all rules. Our Messiah does not question our leadership or question our religon or act so irresponsibly. Our Messiah does not disregard his reputuation, befriend riffraff, or visit the homes of questionable people. "
Jesus' reply? "This Messiah does". *
I have committed to not be afraid of being a barking pig. To me this means that I will allow no one and nothing other than the Bible and its author to define my faith. Traditionalism and preconceived notions are cast aside. My faith must be a direct result of His word. This blog is little more than an online devotional journal. I will record insights from His word daily. Someday, I may invite others to read it, or I might not. That part really doesn't matter.
Christians think they are perfect. Christians think that they are better than everyone else. Christians must appear to be perfect or they blow thier testimony. Christians don't admit their faults and failures. This one does.
*Norman’s story comes from: Michael Yaconelli, Messy Spirituality: God’s Annoying Love for Imperfect People, Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002
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