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Then and Now
It was the Presbyterian Church. It was the late 1940’s, and I wanted to be almost any where but there.
The elderly woman droned on, while kids played in the sunshine just the other side of the window.
Vacation bible school was something like eating vegetables. It was supposed to be good for me.
Sixty years have passed and I still can’t shake the feeling of being held captive in a place I didn’t want to be.
Tonight, Linda and I went to our grandsons’ concluding evening of vacation bible school. Everyone, except this one kid, seemed to be enjoying the experience. He looked like I felt sixty years ago. I wondered how he’ll feel sixty years from now.
I’m a devout Christian, active in my church and beyond, yet I still carry vacation bible school scars in the deepest reaches of my soul. Thus far, neither reason, nor faith has done anything to erase them. I’m sure the old woman who volunteered her time to teach us, did nothing to harm me, aside from boring me. So why the gaping scar in my soul that makes me cringe at the sound of the words “vacation bible school?”
To date the only answer I’m able to formulate is. “I just wasn’t ready for the experience.” I hope I’m wrong about the little guy I saw tonight. I pray he’s ready for vacation bible school and for a wonderful life knowing Jesus Christ as his Lord and savior. It took me another 28 years to be ready to receive the promise of eternal Son shine.
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