May 1st, 2020: Revisit your earliest memories of learning about faith, religion, or spirituality.
Growing up, Refuge Apostolic Church of God was like a second home. My grandmother, who I lived with for the majority of my life, was also the mother of the church. Anywhere she went, I was guaranteed to be in tow. Sunday school and service, Bible study Wednesdays, and youth Fridays were all the ‘socializing’ I knew as a kid. My first memory of learning about Christianity was in Sunday school. One of our youth ministers was teaching us what we needed to do to be ‘saved’. Looking back at the situation, telling elementary-aged children that the only way they would make it into heaven is if they repent and give up the ways of the world (that they know NOTHING about yet) might be a little irresponsible, but who was I to question a servant of the Lord??? I remember one of the other kids asking her what we weren’t allowed to do.
“Ladies must cover their heads in the house of the Lord”
“Ladies can’t wear pants”
“ No worldy music”
“Dancing is of the devil”
“Follow the 10 Commandments”
I got worried. I don’t cover my head. Mommy makes me wear pants to school. I can’t listen to 95.5 on the radio anymore? I dance with my cousins every weekend. I DON’T EVEN KNOW THE 10 COMMANDMENTS!
At 8 years old, I was positive I was going to hell. I was quiet during the entire service. When my grandmother asked me if I was okay on the way home, I burst into tears.
“I’M GOING TO HELL!”
Through fits of tears, I repeated what I was told in Sunday school. My grandmother just looked at me and laughed. I was confused. Did she want me to go to hell? Once she stopped laughing, she looked at me and said: “You ah’ pickney, she not talking about you.” I was definitely confused. She continued and explained to me that I was exempt from the rules, at least, for now. I was a child. I did not know the world. When I got older and started experiencing life, I could decide if the world was for me or not. “Till then, you ah pickney.”
I felt a flood of relief rush over me. That was the day that I realized that God is love and love is patient. I learned that I had to know God for myself and whoever tried to shape me into the ideal ‘Christian’ was not doing it in the name of the Lord. It was a lot to process at 8 years old. I should have been worrying about the newest episode of Hannah Montana, not the fears of my possible eternal damnation. But the experience helped me understand what I wanted MY faith to be. I rarely went to youth Sunday school after that. Instead, I sat with my grandmother in adult Sunday school. She wasn’t risking me suffering another panic attack.
