Episode 3: The B.I.B.L.E., Continued

More about biblical indoctrination! YAY!

Sound effects courtesy of FreeSound.org

 | Intro music |   Chase Through Time (30s) by Universfield -- https://freesound.org/s/754408/ -- License: Attribution 4.0 
 | Transition to Episode intro |  80's riff.wav by EchoCinematics -- https://freesound.org/s/392465/ -- License: Attribution 3.0 
|   Cafeteria noise |   Cafeteria.mp3 by MariaDelCastillo -- https://freesound.org/s/413700/ -- License: Attribution NonCommercial 4.0
|   |  Tuning a Roland Oetter acoustic guitar.wav by juskiddink -- https://freesound.org/s/58671/ -- License: Attribution 4.0
 | Sermon/altar call | Mellow Punk Flow by LolaMoore -- https://freesound.org/s/767571/ -- License: Attribution 4.0
| Janelle’s friend accepted christ |  AHHHH by random_intruder -- https://freesound.org/s/392172/ -- License: Creative Commons 0
|  Christian logic |  703713__zhr__chill-background-music-2.wav
|   Sprite and candies | drink with ice.wav by theplax -- https://freesound.org/s/613874/ -- License: Attribution 4.0
 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

This podcast is intended for mature audiences. So grow up. I'm Les and I'm a storyteller, but these aren't just any stories. These are my stories, untold until now. A Gen Xer who's lived through it all, the analog days, the digital dawn, and everything in between. I'm turning the mic on myself to tell the true stories, the awkward moments and the maybe you had to be there experiences that shaped who I am. From the suburban battlefields of being a childhood nobody to the existential angst of adulthood, I'm taking you on a journey through the events, the people, and the pop culture that shaped who I am. This is Gen X Crossing. Episode 3, the B I B L E. Yes, that's the book for me. Part 2. Heads up, in this episode, I relay memories of my own religious indoctrination, which some might find upsetting. Please listen with care. It was a little early in the day for Bible drills, but since it was after breakfast and before morning Bible study, Bible drills made a decent filler. This was winter camp. Camp Eden Winter Camp specifically, which was owned by our church, Beth Eden. Year round the grounds were beatific, rustic cabins, hills for summer hiking and winter sledding, a lodge and even a lake. No TVs, no radios, and we didn't even notice. And this weekend was for fourth and fifth graders. As we noisily migrated to the opposite end of the mess hall, which also doubled as a meeting area, the huge stone fireplace in the center crackled with cozy warmth. Above the echoing sounds of the kitchen's clanging pots and chattering, giggling girls from our Sunday school, our leader shouted, Who knows Romans 1.16? My memorization of specific verses had come a long way for Bible drills, but I was still relying on looking up passages, which I was pretty good at if I say so myself. Chapter and verse quotations were lagging a bit, but once someone started me off, I could usually get the rest of it. I think everybody else was in the same boat because nobody answered him and just continued chattering. Ah, come on, Tim said as he lassoed himself into his guitar and began adjusting the strap. You guys know this stuff. I'll give you a hint. For I am not an absolute cacophony of staggered shouting voices piped in, including mine, and my best friend Shonda. For I am not ashamed of the black. I'll run together. Tim laughed as he now tuned his six string. David, I heard you first. Go ahead. Okay, David was a little bit of a suck up and he always knew chapter and verse, so I don't know if he actually heard him first, but whatever. He stood up, stuck his chin out, and announced, For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth. Great, he said, test strumming his instrument and walking over for a sip of water from a styrofoam cup. Here's another one. Matthew four nineteen. Again, silence. Okay, let's sing a song about Matthew four nineteen. I bet most of us know it. He strummed one chord enthusiastically, leading us off with a nodding head and wide eyes. I will make you fishers of men. Everyone groaned with the recognition of a song we had been singing since we were babies. We did the motions along with the words, casting our lines and reeling in invisible believers. As usual, I noticed someone who was a stranger to our Sunday school group, awkwardly trying to sing along. Janelle had brought a friend whom she generously taught the motions to. He said, Let's bow our heads and ask the Lord to bless our time together this morning. All right, I'm gonna leave Tim praying in the mid-70s for a minute and indulge in a story about an indoctrination song that I just mentioned. Stop and let me tell you. See, each verse took our little malleable brains through the steps of evangelism, and of course it had hand motions too. I first learned stop and let me tell you in vacation Bible school. As far as I understood, vacation Bible school was really aimed at the unchurched. We were already members of Beth Eden Baptist Church, my family and I, and we had been saved by our parents at an early age. Even so, VBS, as it was called, was a nice little way to kick off our summer. It also happened to be a great way to pull in other little malleable brains vis-a-vis giving their parents something free for their kid to do for a few precious hours the first couple weeks of summer. We knew this as kids because my mom told me that VBS was really for non Christians, but that we would enjoy it too. She also never failed to mention that the other little kids would see how fun it was to be a Christian if we were there. So this song was one of the ones we would sing before our craft and Bible lesson. So we would sing stop and let me tell you what the Lord has done for me, and of course you sing that three times, then you say what the Lord had done for you. He forgave my sin and he saved my soul, he cleansed my heart and he made me whole. We would sing that over and over. Then we would sing yield to the story of the Christ of Calvary again three times, 'cause he'll save your soul, blah blah blah. And then the last one is go and tell the story of the Christ of Cvary. Calvary, not Calvary. Go and tell the story of the nine of the bat. Okay, you get it. It it had all those indoctrination gems like simplicity, repetition, choreography. I learned very early on that I was a sinner. And then when I got a little bit older, I learned that the wages of sin was death, which is in the book of Romans. Then I learned that Jesus died in this horrible, torturous way because of my sins, and that without him doing that, I would have to sacrifice something every time I sinned, like in the Old Testament, where they had to sacrifice a lamb or some other animal. I'm pretty sure it was a lamb. I couldn't fathom having to do that, and I also felt really bad that Jesus had died for me. I couldn't control being a sinner. So Jesus was the only way to avoid the eternal furnace of hell. And since I was saved, I began carrying a heavier and heavier burden for the souls of the lost, and my responsibility to bring them to Christ. Which is what this ended up being about that day. As Tim led us in an opening prayer, I quietly reached for my Bible under the chair. Opening it to Matthew 4.19, I knew what the study would be about. We were learning a lot about the scriptures and about salvation and about our jobs to witness to a world of people who are certainly not aware of the importance of eternity and how they were going to spend it if they didn't accept Jesus. Sure enough, I was right. Tim was telling us the story of the disciples. Open your Bibles to Matthew 4, he said. It says in verse 18, And Jesus was walking by the Sea of Galilee, saw two brethren, Simon called Peter and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea. For they were fishers, and he saith unto them, Follow me and I will make you fishers of men. And straight away they left their nets and followed him. And going from thence he saw two brethren again, James a son of Zebedee and John his brother in a ship with Zebedee, their father, mending their nets. And he called them and immediately they left their ship and followed him. Yeah, thence. I think it's the only time I ever use the word thence. So Tim continued. Boys and girls, let's talk about what it means to really be a disciple of Jesus Christ. He said, taking off his guitar and resting it against the skinny, hand-carved wooden lectern, a much more humble version of the pulpit in the sanctuary back home. Girls! I heard Mrs. Johnson whisper from the row behind us to Janelle and her friend at the end of our row. Shonda and I turned our heads, trying not to laugh as she confiscated the piece of paper they had already started writing notes back and forth to each other on. We knew to talk afterwards. They straightened up, looking straight ahead, faces now serious as Tim continued. Jesus said he would make them fishers of men, and immediately they dropped their nets, quit their jobs to follow him. Can you imagine? Can you imagine meeting Jesus in person and getting invited to follow him? Well, kids, we have met Jesus. Every time we open the Word of God, every time we share the good news of salvation with those that are lost, every time we pray, attend church, we are meeting Jesus. And one day, when he comes back, we will get to meet him in person ourselves. But only if we follow him. He paused, grabbing his guitar. Let's sing again. And if anyone in this room wants to follow Jesus for the first time or recommit your life to him, you can come up to the front and we will pray for you. The four parent chaperones came up to the front as Tim began playing his guitar again. We sang all four verses of the song I have decided to follow Jesus slowly, as the moms and dads stood there like sentries on casual day, facing us with their hands clasped together. Janelle's friend came up with Janelle. We all quietly continued to sing along as she said the sinner's prayer. As she stood up, hugged Janelle, and walked back to her seat. Tim wrapped us up in prayer, presenting an offer. Look, sometimes it's hard to come up in front of a group of people. So if anybody else wants to talk to us later, we're here. If any of you want to come to Christ or recommit your life to Him, we're here for you. Let's bow our heads in prayer. Automatically we all stood in unison. Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this time together with these your children. Dear Lord, please make us fishers of men. And I pray that if anyone's hearts have been convicted today, you will bring them to us to lead back to you. Amen. Alright, he said, clapping his hands. Who's ready to do some sledding? It was safe to assume by now that all the kids in the Sunday school class except for the visitor had already said the sinner's prayer, so I wasn't really wondering about that, but I did really wonder about the recommitting your life to Christ part. Oh, that's if you backslide. Shonda explained this to me later that day as we watched the dye from our spree fruit shoes bubble off in our sprites like rainbow alcohols are. We dangled our feet off the back deck of the lodge, the only brave souls to trade the warmth inside for clickish solitude. What's backslide? I asked, trying in vain to fish with my index finger a now white candy out of the green empty bottle. Shonda dumped hers into her hand. She had a much higher tolerance for sticky stuff than I did. She popped him in her mouth in one motion, speaking through the wad in her cheek. It's when you turn away from God, or you stop going to church for a while, you start listening to rock music, you don't read your Bible anymore. Oh, I said, newly enlightened and grateful that I had not backslidden. I wondered who in fourth and fifth grade Sunday school had had an opportunity to backslide and how? Then after a moment I asked, can you still backslide if you've been baptized? Shonda had already been baptized, which required attending commitment classes for three Sundays in a row at Beth Eden, so she was the expert in these matters. Once you accept Jesus, you're going to heaven, she said, now unwrapping pieces of bazooka bubblegum and cramming them into her mouth. God, it's a wonder our teeth didn't rot out of our heads before we were out of elementary school. The baptism is to show everyone at church that you really believe in Jesus and have decided to follow him. You can backslide after you've been baptized, but you can't lose your salvation. If you keep backsliding, you were never a Christian to begin with. This was one of many times that a whole ass explanation was wrapped around a concept that had been formed from a verse or series of verses, the Turduccan of Christian belief systems, yet another marvelous indoctrination tool. My memorization and recitation of chapter and verse followed this pattern as well, religiously, pun intended. It didn't really make sense to me back then, but I had come to believe by around age 10 that it didn't have to make sense. That's where faith came in. And there were a ton of verses about faith. Faith without works is dead. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Walk by faith and not by sight. Over and over I would read these verses, hear them in sermons, pray them. And again, the songs I was learning evoked emotion, beginning to serve as a musical glue for conditioning. An example, trust and obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus than to trust and obey. And the answers were prepared, but only using a circular type of biblical logic. In other words, the answers were predicated on the belief that you believed in God, in Jesus, in the fact that he died on your behalf, that the Bible was the Word of God inerrant, the source of guidance in how to live life. So in my early teens, we moved to a new church, and with it a new version of the Bible, which would seal me into Christianity for the next 30 years. And that's what I'm going to talk about in my next episode. Thanks for listening and for the gift of your time and attention. I know attention is at a premium these days, so I treasure yours and thank you. If you enjoy these stories, please like, rate, and subscribe wherever you find my podcast. This is not conventional storytelling, and sometimes it's lacking the drama that a lot of people seem to crave these days and the darkness. But I appreciate you sticking with me. Until next time, this is Less saying peace out.