On the Occasion of My Church’s 150th Birthday

Not many 34 year olds can say they’ve been a member of one church their whole life. I can. When I was five-months-old my parents began attending First Baptist Dallas. I don’t have too many memories of those early years at church, but I know, based on the testimony of those who have come up to me over the years, that I regularly had my diaper changed and learned about Jesus.

My earliest memories from the hallowed halls of the Truett Building began in the first grade. The Kellys were my Sunday School directors. A sweet older woman was my teacher. She faithfully sat with a group of us first graders week after week and taught us the Bible. At Christmas, our class put on a Christmas play, reenacting the events surrounding the birth of Jesus. I think I was an angel. (An aside…as we were cleaning up from Resurrection Road this year and putting away child-sized Bible costumes, I came across a tub that said something like, “Kelly’s Sunday School Class costumes.” They were the costumes from the Christmas play passed down over the years.) I think it was after first grade that I went to Criswell Kids Camp. That was the summer I learned to roller skate in the skating rink at church.

In second grade the Lord blessed me with the best Sunday School directors, Rosaleen and Kenneth Davidson. They loved Jesus, and they loved us. Sunday in and Sunday out we’d gather as a group and sing the songs carefully written on a large tablet. “This is the Day that the Lord has Made” played on repeat almost every Sunday. 

The summer after second grade I attended Vacation Bible School. Because the members of our church came from all over the metroplex, the church dispatched charter buses to almost every suburb. We rode the bus that left from Town East Mall every morning. I don’t remember too many specifics from VBS, but I do remember the day all the kids gathered in Ralph Baker Hall to hear the gospel presentation given by the pastor at the time, Joel Gregory. I had heard about Jesus my whole life, but on that particular day, the Holy Spirit caused me to realize my need for salvation. I went forward with the masses, and who, but Rosaleen Davidson found me in the crowd and sat down with me to talk about the next steps. I think that’s when I made a “Step Towards God” and not too long afterwards, Libby Reynolds came to our house, shared the gospel with me again, and that night, on the floor of the living room of my house, I confessed that I was a sinner in need of a Savior. Since that night, I’ve not wavered. I’ve never even really doubted. I needed Jesus. And He found me. And He has had me tightly in His grip ever since.

Third grade found me in the Griffin’s Sunday School class. Their daughter, Lindsay, was also in our class and we’d both made professions of faith and were ready to be baptized, so we decided to do it on the same Sunday. We were baptized in the Historic Sanctuary by Paul Gomez. The other significant memory from my third grade year was perfect attendance. I didn’t miss a Sunday. I think there’s a crown in heaven for that.

In fourth grade, we moved from Primaries to Juniors, and across the plaza to the Burt Building. I can laugh now at the geriatric nature of that building. It was literally “foggy” in the Burt Building with dust and asbestos. Bless. My fourth grade Sunday School teacher was Emily Bright. I remember she sang in the choir and always had to leave a little early to make it to choir. When I went to work for the church in 2010, my cubicle was right next to Emily’s.

In fifth grade, my Sunday School directors were Ann and Phil LeRoux. (Another aside…these two continue to serve faithfully in the Children’s Ministry at the Welcome Desks. I served with Ann at the Welcome Desk for several years before I began working as the Babies Coordinator.) My Sunday School teacher was Mrs. Lloyd. I remember doing Resurrection Eggs in her class at Easter.

Sixth grade. I remember a lot about sixth grade. We had donut holes every Sunday. The boys liked to throw them at one another. Our Sunday School class was located at the intersection of the Veal Building and Burt. I would help my parents set up in their Sunday School class and take the elevator in the Criswell Education Building to six (?) and then cross over to Burt. The Chapel Choir went to Africa that year. I remember the outfits. And my Sunday School teacher was Marianne Taylor. She was also an older woman who loved Jesus. She taught us about the other names of Jesus.

That completes my elementary school experience. I might go in later and add details about choir programs and Mission Friends and GAs. And the library. Don’t tell anyone, but I regularly skipped Sunday School to sit in the library and read Nancy Drew. I think Jesus knew my introverted-self needed that. The next post will document my Youth Ministry experience. I think I remember every Sunday School teacher.