Sunny Side Up November 13, 2002 �2002, Kathleen Gibson Sunday School is still important In my childhood home Sundays began Saturday evening. Sunday dinner was readied for the oven, a cake iced for dessert. Mom danced the mop around the house, spraying Pledge on everything that didn�t glow. Dad sat, chin in hands, reviewing his Sunday School lesson. Everyone took a bath. Sunday clothes were hung on the doors of every closet, and the last light didn�t go out till the table was set for tomorrow�s dinner. Then came Sunday. Dad filled the car with family and neighbourhood kids and drove to church. Twice. Once upon a time, most every kid went to Sunday School. Remember that? Remember object lessons, open sessions, and classes sitting in tidy lines of tipsy wooden chairs? Birthday offerings, birthday pencils? Remember action songs? Remember stretching your invisible slingshot as far as your arm could reach for �Only a Boy named David�? Casting your line for �Fishers of Men�? Remember �I�m in the Lord�s Army�? Remember �flying over the enemy� just low enough for your wingtip to give the head of the boy next to you the proper comeback for �marching in the infantry� right on the toes of your new saddle shoes? Remember sword drills? �Swords up!� and �Charge!� and Bible pages flipping crazily until the first person to find the reference stood and blurted it? And the quiet groans because it was always the same girl? Remember the day she read the wrong thing, and someone else leapt up and read the whole verse correctly? Oh, was that you? Remember Sunday School papers, coloring papers, flannel boards and prizes for memory verses? Little crosses that glowed green in the dark, teensy white Bibles full of John 3:16, and flat plastic coin purses imprinted with �The love of money is the root of all evil,� in gold letters? Remember Daniel in the Lion�s den, Moses parting the Red Sea, Zaccheus, the wee little man? Remember something called sin? Remember your teachers? Especially the one who dressed up like John the Baptist, and ate that handful of �locusts and honey?� Remember the whip and thorns another brought, so you�d understand Easter? Remember their little gifts at Christmas? The picnics they took your class on, and the postcard saying they�d missed you when had pneumonia? If you remember any of that, you�re one of the lucky ones. If, like me, you remember all of that, you�re blessed. I�m a better adult, thanks in part to my parents� insistence on Sunday School. Jesus loves me, this I know�because of Sunday School. God answers prayer�I heard it often in Sunday School. The B-I-B-L-E, yes that�s the book for me�this too I learned in Sunday School. I�ve observed that on Sundays the Sunday Schools of our country are nearly empty, but malls and sports events are crowded. What does the future hold for a generation of children who weren�t taught the stories that shaped a world, who never learned the truth about God? I think I don�t want to know. If these words inspired thoughts of your own, please email them to [email protected] |