Journal of a Living Lady #178

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

            To say I have been around the church block a few times is an understatement. My maternal grandmother walked me to church for the first time when I was five-years-old.

 

 I loved the Primary Sunday School class. Two unmarried sisters with snow-white hair taught Bible verses and little songs that have stayed with me over five decades since.  I don't remember the names of those teachers now. I just know that these two ladies made me feel  wanted and special. Together they came to our modest home for occasional visits, always bringing little goodies. They gave me my first Bible. I treasured it so. On the cover was a picture of Jesus surrounded by lots of little children like me.

 

 Soon my older brother, Charles Lester, began attending the same Sunday School at Longview Heights Church in Memphis. He was ten and went to the Junior Department.  Later came my younger brother, Mike. When my mother had my last two siblings, Bob and Sunnie Anne, I was old enough to take them myself which I did until I was married.

 

I am not a mathematician, but figuring that I have been in church at least twice a week since that first impressionable Sunday, it is likely that I have attended church services at least 6,000 times already. I should have this Christian living down pat by now. I don't, but I am trying.

 

 I still love Sunday School, though my peers aren't bright-eyed youngsters anymore. Most in our class are older than I am and have cataracts. In fact, many have more tenure in Sunday School than I have.

 

What keeps us coming back? For me, it was partly because I taught Sunday School for twenty-five years. Still do occasionally. But for most of us, Sunday School became a habit, a good habit. I learned the Ten Commandments, the Beatitudes, and a host of other scriptures, usually at the rate of one or two memory verses a week. The scriptures I now know and can almost recall word perfect were memorized in those early years in Sunday School or Vacation Bible School.

 

I can't remember if I turned the pot off on the stove today, but I can quote

 John 3:16 which was the first verse I ever learned.  I got a gold star by my name on the wall chart. I can tell you about Moses, Jonah, Paul and the Apostle John. I can sing the Books of the Bible, all 66 of them. In Sunday School, I learned how to pray.

 

It saddens me that most parents today don't understand the importance of Sunday School. What does it matter if our children know all the moves of the latest video game or the statistic of  every major league player on a team?

 

When today's child becomes old or sick or experiences a death in the family, recalling such particulars won't bring much comfort. But what was learned in Sunday School will.  I guarantee it.

 

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nancyk@alltel.net

 

(Note: This column will resume on a bi-weekly basis beginning September 5th.)