Then I could see it, the classroom was no longer empty. Fourteen chairs with fourteen children seated in them and there I was focused on Miss Grant.
Left Behind
Only twelve years old and already I was questioning my faith and everything I was taught by her and the others. Her sermon was on the rapture, a horror story to a young child to be sure. It was to be the last year I would be in that specific Sunday school class. I would be joining the other teenagers tackling more complex issues of faith.
She did not censor anything. Reading directly from the bible she would clarify the most horrifying parts. All those who did not accept Jesus Christ into their hearts as their personal savior would be left behind. As a child afraid of the dark and of being alone, the thought of being left behind could turn sinner to saint.
That morning however, my thoughts were not about myself, but of someone I cared about. Almost falling out of my seat I stretched out my hand toward the sky. Closing her bible and setting it upon her lap Miss Grant took notice of my pending question and called on me.
“ Yes, Timothy, you have a question?”
“ Miss Kimberly my friend Jonathan doesn’t come with us to church, but he’ll be able to go with us to heaven when God comes right?”
She knew who Jonathan was and what he meant to me and knowing that made her hesitant to answer. The other children appeared interested waiting to hear the answer. It was something she did not want to speak about without being sure that what she said would not take away from what the Church wanted us to hear.
“ We will cover that next week Timothy. However, with God’s children taken from the earth all that will remain is evil. I don’t think anyone would want to live in a world such as that. This is why we teach the word of God and why we ask you to tell your friends about us and invite them to Sunday school. This way they can learn about God and be saved.”
Next week would give her more than enough time to confer with the others on what to say. I did not want to wait until next week. What rang in my mind was her use of the word evil.
“ But Jonathan isn’t evil he just believes in something different. I asked him to come, but my dad said we need to respect his beliefs. Why would he be left with the evil people because of that?”
Standing she collected the bibles handed out to the children with their corporate logo stamped on the inside cover. If only evil would be left behind then anyone who did not believe would be evil. That statement was clear enough for even our young minds to understand. Approaching me she smiled as she took the bible from my hands.
“ You have a lot of questions and that’s good, but they will need to wait until next week.”
Condescending, it was her way of telling me to shut up until she had a company approved answer. She placed her hand on my head brushing her fingers through my hair. My mother would do the same when she was letting me know that I should just let something go. That woman was not my mother. I felt a well of anger build up inside me. Angrily I pushed her hand away and stormed out of the room.
“ If God doesn’t love Jonathan then why should I love God?”
The Auditorium
I did not return to church for two years against my parent’s protests. I continued down the hall. The more I remembered of this place the less I wanted to find anyone there. Maybe I did want to find them, huddled together, praying, and crying like the characters in Christine’s zombie movie. Raising their hands in the air asking their God why they were left behind. Perhaps evil was all that remained, then what did that make me?
Eight small steps and a large wooden door led into the grand auditorium. I opened the door and a rush of cold air blew though me. A defining silence permeated throughout
Left Behind
Only twelve years old and already I was questioning my faith and everything I was taught by her and the others. Her sermon was on the rapture, a horror story to a young child to be sure. It was to be the last year I would be in that specific Sunday school class. I would be joining the other teenagers tackling more complex issues of faith.
She did not censor anything. Reading directly from the bible she would clarify the most horrifying parts. All those who did not accept Jesus Christ into their hearts as their personal savior would be left behind. As a child afraid of the dark and of being alone, the thought of being left behind could turn sinner to saint.
That morning however, my thoughts were not about myself, but of someone I cared about. Almost falling out of my seat I stretched out my hand toward the sky. Closing her bible and setting it upon her lap Miss Grant took notice of my pending question and called on me.
“ Yes, Timothy, you have a question?”
“ Miss Kimberly my friend Jonathan doesn’t come with us to church, but he’ll be able to go with us to heaven when God comes right?”
She knew who Jonathan was and what he meant to me and knowing that made her hesitant to answer. The other children appeared interested waiting to hear the answer. It was something she did not want to speak about without being sure that what she said would not take away from what the Church wanted us to hear.
“ We will cover that next week Timothy. However, with God’s children taken from the earth all that will remain is evil. I don’t think anyone would want to live in a world such as that. This is why we teach the word of God and why we ask you to tell your friends about us and invite them to Sunday school. This way they can learn about God and be saved.”
Next week would give her more than enough time to confer with the others on what to say. I did not want to wait until next week. What rang in my mind was her use of the word evil.
“ But Jonathan isn’t evil he just believes in something different. I asked him to come, but my dad said we need to respect his beliefs. Why would he be left with the evil people because of that?”
Standing she collected the bibles handed out to the children with their corporate logo stamped on the inside cover. If only evil would be left behind then anyone who did not believe would be evil. That statement was clear enough for even our young minds to understand. Approaching me she smiled as she took the bible from my hands.
“ You have a lot of questions and that’s good, but they will need to wait until next week.”
Condescending, it was her way of telling me to shut up until she had a company approved answer. She placed her hand on my head brushing her fingers through my hair. My mother would do the same when she was letting me know that I should just let something go. That woman was not my mother. I felt a well of anger build up inside me. Angrily I pushed her hand away and stormed out of the room.
“ If God doesn’t love Jonathan then why should I love God?”
The Auditorium
I did not return to church for two years against my parent’s protests. I continued down the hall. The more I remembered of this place the less I wanted to find anyone there. Maybe I did want to find them, huddled together, praying, and crying like the characters in Christine’s zombie movie. Raising their hands in the air asking their God why they were left behind. Perhaps evil was all that remained, then what did that make me?
Eight small steps and a large wooden door led into the grand auditorium. I opened the door and a rush of cold air blew though me. A defining silence permeated throughout
Similar Books
