I was 11 years old the first time I remember understanding the word sin. I’d heard the word many times of course, but had never really given the concept much thought. That summer I learned the meaning of a word that I would eventually become well acquainted with.
I’m not sure who teaches preachers to “scare people out of Hell” — in fact, I’m not sure anyone actually does. But, I grew up in a time and place where fire and brimstone was the order of the day in nearly every church I knew anything about. These were days long before the words seeker sensitive or affirming ever came to exist in ecclesiastical vernacular. No, back then it was still the narrow road and judgement that carried the day.
I suppose I was a typical 11 year old…ok, no I wasn’t. But, I was close enough. I didn’t get into a lot of trouble but there were scrapes here and there; moments of prepubescent rebellion that in hindsight were never any real threat to my well being, but which caused my mother a great deal of angst. My general lazy attitude about school is what precipitated most of the trouble I found myself in. Not turning in homework, not reading assignments and not doing well on tests in fifth grade would surely be the death knell of any hope of future success I might have had. Twenty-five years later I chuckle at the thought.
That summer, however, opened a whole new world to me — a world I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about — a world of anxious days and sleepless nights. That summer changed how I looked at life and death. That summer changed how I looked at me. The things I thought I had control over looked completely chaotic after that summer and I often wonder, even today, if I have yet regained control of them.
Vacation Bible Schools in our local churches usually started shortly after school let out for summer vacation. Because nearly every church in town had one and none wanted compete with another, it took nearly the entire three month break for all of them to have the opportunity. Most of them were more about free daycare for beliegered parents than they were about evangelism, but there were a couple that took the Great Commission to heart.
“Go into all the world and make disciples of all nations; baptising them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”
July came and the race for young impressionable souls was in full swing. By this time in the summer I’d likely attended four or five different VBS programs covering every denomination from Methodist to Pentecostal with stops at Baptist and Nazarene churches along the way. It was a cornucopia of doctrinal dogma served up with butter cookies and fruit punch to make it go down easier!
Then I heard the words that would change my perspective on everything: “Son, I believe you’ve reached the age of accountability. From this moment on, God is watching everything you do and listening to everything you say. He’s keeping a record of all of your sins and you will be held accountable for them on judgement day unless you get saved right here and now.” WHAT!!! Where did this God come from? What happened to the Jesus that ‘loves the little children of the world?’
We were seated in a small ante room off the main platform of the sanctuary. There were about 8 boys there with the pastor of the church doing all the talking. I remember looking around at the other boys in the circle and they all looked as bewildered as I did. This didn’t seem fair and it certainly didn’t seem right. How is it possible that we had all reached some magical age at which God went from being a loving God to being a cosmic tyrant ready to pounce on us at the mere hint of insurrection? This was a totally new concept to me.
My mom and dad were divorced when I was about four years old. I remember very little about that time in my life, but as I was sitting in that room listening to a very well-meaning but verbally clumsy pastor tell me that failure to “get saved” then and there would result in eternal separation from God in the fires of a Devil’s Hell sent chills down my spine. If it is that easy to cause God to want to separate himself from me for all eternity then no wonder my dad wanted to leave!
By the time the pastor had us all bow our heads and close our eyes, I was sufficiently frightened that I would have done pretty much whatever he’d asked at that point. So, when he told us to raise our hands if we wanted to be saved I did…and that was that. The “amen” was spoken, our eyes were opened and all was well with the world again. All that needed to happen now was that this pastor needed to call our regular pastor about our decision so that we could be baptised as soon as humanly possible.
But, for me that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all because I never thought I felt what those other boys in that room felt. Oh, sure I repeated the words that the pastor told me to repeat, but I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. All I knew at that moment is that I wanted nothing more than to spare my soul from eternal damnation! None of what I said meant anything to me short of an attempt to calm the heart of a thouroughly mortified 11 year old boy’s heart. For weeks afterward I would lay down at night and pray those words over and over again just to make sure I was “saved”.
Let me point out here that I don’t hold anything against that pastor. I believe that he was genuine in his concern and that his actions were taken in good faith. As I said before, it was a different time. The world was a different place and people’s sensibilities about things were near polar opposites to what they are today. Evangelical nuance was not a concept that had taken hold just yet. Nevertheless, as innocent as his intentions may have been, that pastor turned my life upside down.
I spent the next few years looking over my shoulder and waiting for God to bring down his firey gavel down in judgement against me. I became unbearable to live with, finding abomination in everything anyone said or did. I continued to pray those words over and over again in my head pleading with God to spare my soul for at least one more day. Every clap of thunder during a springtime storm brought with it a sense of impending doom. After a while, though I realized that nothing ever happened. That wrath — that inescapable judgement never came no matter what I did and this would bring about a most drastic change that would nearly cost me my life.
(To be continued.)
janthonywalker
I eagerly await part 2