I went to a Sunday School class this past Sunday. It turned out to be not at all what I was expecting or what I would have hoped for, but that’s probably my fault. I could have asked first what the text or topic was, but I don’t like to call attention to myself, so I just went. And now, I repent.
It was too dissatisfying. Too problematic. I tried. But not there again in the foreseeable future.
This personally sad statement is more sad, and more personal, because today, the day of posting, is my “new birth”-day. It’s the anniversary of my immersion into Christ when I was nine. It would have been right about this time of the evening.
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Rewind to Sunday morning, 2/4
Having slept later than usual, sans alarm, I had just enough time this morning to get to a Bible class at the church I most often attend. I’d only heard a month or two ago that there was a Bible class (it’s 
somewhat new here), and for various reasons, this would be my first try.
I almost talked myself out of it. It would be a rush to clean up and get dressed and make it there in time. I could make it, but it might be better if I just waited a week or so. . . .
Nah. I talked myself back into it, got ready, and went. You see, when I woke up with the idea in my head, I thought it might just be a thing of God . . . a “prompting” . . . or, the very least, something to help cure the spiritual doldrums and give me an opportunity to think, to read, to interact with people who are Christ-beings.
Back-stepping for a minute
I think of myself as someone who doesn’t fall prey to subjective Christian ideas too easily, and sometimes, I put the notion of “Spirit promptings” in that category. I’d suggest that this tendency of mine is not necessarily good or bad, but I wouldn’t want it to take over completely. That is to say, I wouldn’t want to be resistant to a bona fide prompting . . . nor would I want to hoist all sails to the wind, so to speak, and be carried about willy-nilly by something that might be the result of a large box fan instead of the Spirit-wind of God.
But I hoisted myself up and went to the Sunday School class. And it immediately became clear that this class was going to be a discouragement, not a positive stimulus.
Then I began to wonder about a possible counter-prompting. “Is this a sign that I shouldn’t go back to this church at all? Am I so philosophically separate from this group that, when I go there, it’s just hurting me and my feeble attempts at living Christianly?” I am almost always able to participate—with heart, mind, and voice—in a good portion of the thoughtful worship there. Still, I was caused to wonder whether this church’s efforts, considered overall, are now more of a blockage to me than a boon.
Is this line of thinking now a prompting of God?
I have written next to nothing about “organic church” for a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. The little Philemon group meeting in my living room is about 2/3 through its course now is the most diverse group yet. Let’s just say I have to tippy-toe around a couple of things in order to ensure understanding and avoid offense, because of the radically different backgrounds in the room. But the interaction has been encouraging, and the opportunity to have people interested in the letter in my living room just makes me want more of the same.
Now, back to “Sunday School”
I used the term “Sunday School” at the top, because that’s how I heard the class referred to, not because I like the term. In the back of my mind, I was assuming it would in some sense be a “Bible class.” But that turned out not to be. It was about the New City Catechism, which I’ve heard recited serially here for several years. This church has just decided to go through the NCC again, for what must be at least the third time. This class itself was meta-catechetical in that it wasn’t even really about the NCC but about the rationale behind using it. The three references to the scriptures (2 Timothy, Matthew, and Deuteronomy, in that order) were brought in to support the idea of catechetical instruction, not in order to understand those texts themselves. (Aside: what they were doing in this class could be connected to the larger Sunday School history, which was until the late 1800s more generally educational but also included religious catechesis. This historical building is an example of a “Sunday school” building used for the lower classes.)
The main take-away here is that I want to be engaged in digging in a text, not paying homage to a litany of theological statements. For me, it’s worse yet to spend time propping up the idea of how we’re going to spend time paying the homage. This experience was personally discouraging to me, although I could sense that most or all the others in attendance had a very positive experience.
One might think, “Well, maybe a lot of people in that church need such instruction.” I’ve thought something similar in the past, because I have presumed there is a generally lower education level there than in most churches. But that might have been an inaccurate assessment. The cross-section of people in this class seemed articulate, and also scripturally and Christianly literate. The comments were intelligent and on point. They just weren’t dealing with points I was interested in.
The teacher, I might add, was quite good at doing what he was doing. He is passionate, to a fault, about everything that comes out of his mouth. He smiles, he asks good questions, he shows that he listens to people and knows them. He words things well, with conviction. But I won’t ever care to participate in the New City Catechism. It is a superimposition (by one go-to author-preacher) that (1) presupposes and teaches a few things that I categorically disagree with, (2) overstates or misstates some others, while it also (3) offers some fine statements on other matters.
At any rate, I won’t go back to that class. Not while it’s going through the NCC.
Postlude
For months I’ve been sharing earnestly about topics of the world in Tuesday Topics (“TT”) posts. The title of today’s post starts with “WW.” It could be “Wednesday Whining,” but I prefer to think of it is as “Wednesday Wishing.”
On a Wednesday when I was nine, I wished to confirm my belief in Jesus as my savior, so I went under the water as He had, and as Peter and Paul taught. I wished to be, and immediately felt, clean, and I have never once regretted that decision.
On this Wednesday in 2024, I wish the particular class had done something else. But more important than that, I wish for more, and better, Bible classes in churches overall. And I wish—no, yearn—for Christian community.
Earnestly Speaking 