Vacation Bible School

Neither of my parents was a churchgoer. We were, in general, scornful of people who went to church. I don’t recall why exactly.

But, about two weeks after regular school let out, the local church (a generic Protestant denomination) held Vacation Bible School for a week.

I went several times, and I adored it. I loved memorizing Bible verses, and making crafts with coffee-cans and macaroni and papier-mache, and eating lunch outside.

I even took it to heart once or twice. One of our memorization verses was Jesus saying “Fear not,” and I remember saying it to myself when I was frightened once or twice, and it helped, for some reason.

I was young and credulous. I liked the “school” part of this, and I wasn’t terribly receptive to the religion part, but then again maybe I was. Several of the Bible School teachers saw me as an eligible convert and gave me all kinds of books, some of which I still have: Bible guides and such.

Here’s my problem: I love the feeling of belief, but I don’t really believe the doctrine. I don’t believe that the creator of the universe entered into a man two thousand years ago, just to make a point. I don’t believe that Old Testament doctrine is superior to any other religion doctrine (although some of it is very profound).

I miss the calm serene feeling that Vacation Bible School gave me, when everything was nice and orderly.

But I’m afraid I’ll never be able to feel that way again.