Can I share something up front? Looking back over my student
years (back then we called it youth ministry), I wish I had been more involved.
I was involved during my middle school years, but during high school I drifted
away. I still attended Sunday School regularly, but that comprised the majority
of my involvement. I became consumed with school and grades and extracurricular
activities and work, and church fell by the wayside. Do you know what’s sweet
though? My teachers and friends at church never stopped asking, never stopped
trying to get me to come to stuff.
Without further ado, seventh grade. After I touted my super
stellar memory, I realized last night that I cannot, for the life of me,
remember who taught my seventh grade Sunday School class. If that was you, my
utmost apologies. Seventh grade brought yet another building transition. This
time we moved to the Ruth Ray Hunt Youth Building. When they say First Baptist
Dallas takes up five city blocks, they’re not lying. And seventh grade was on
the fifth floor. And there was one elevator. Most Sundays my youthful legs
propelled me up the five flights, but every once in a while I took the elevator
along with 20 to 30 of my closest (at that moment) friends to the top floor.
I didn’t include any choir memories in my previous
installment, but this go round, I’m going to change that. The summer after
seventh grade, the Clarion Choir went on tour to Washington, D.C. I remember
Tennessee was a long state to drive through. The bus ride was also my
introduction to Veggie Tales; I learned to sing silly songs. My seventh grade
self didn’t fully appreciate the amazingness that was D.C. I remember we went to
Arlington National Cemetery. I also remember the hideous red, white and blue
polo shirts we wore on the regular. And I remember learning how to wash them by
hand in the sink with Woolite and letting them dry overnight. Except they didn’t,
and the next day I wound up wearing a damp shirt. (I’m thankful that by the
time I became a Clarion Choir sponsor someone had wised up to washing the whole
choir’s shirts in the washing machine and
drying them.) Beyond that, I remember the boy I had a crush on (for his sake
and mine, I’ll take that info to the grave), and I remember who became a couple
because those things are important to a seventh grader.
Eighth grade. (You know, I just want to thank those
volunteers over the years who have served with middle schoolers. Those are
literally the most awkward years of
your life, and it takes a special grace and patience to have regular encounters
with those angst-y adolescents.) Same floor. Still five flights. We just moved
down the hall. Cathy Bolton and Penny Graves were my Sunday School teachers. I
don’t remember much from Sunday School.
The summer after eighth grade we went to Colorado on choir
tour. Before we embarked on our tour, we, as a choir, participated in Backyard
Bible Clubs. That summer we took Vacation Bible School to church member’s
houses around the metroplex. If I didn’t already love VBS, those Backyard Bible
Clubs made me love (LOVE) it. Every day we’d travel to our respective houses
and love on neighborhood kids for a few hours. I was at Barbara Cole’s house.
She was the picture of hospitality and made it such a fun experience for us.
After serving through Mission Dallas, we traveled to the mountains of Colorado.
I remember the Garden of the Gods. And Pike’s Peak. We took the tram to the
top. It was so cold and the air was so thin. I couldn’t take breaths deep
enough. We also visited Focus on the Family and the Olympic training center.
Onward and upward, but actually down a floor in the youth
building…high school. Freshman year my Sunday School teacher was Holly Cole.
That year, the Chapel Choir and Orchestra went to Israel on tour. (Remember my
previous mention of missing out? I didn’t go. I missed out.) In preparation for
tour, we had to watch a series of what amounted to the most boring videos in
all of Sunday School history. Seriously. Boring. I also remember that was the
year Scott Ward stepped down as Youth Minister to go to another church. Up
until that point, I didn’t think ministers went other places. My children’s
ministers were in place for decades. Dr. Criswell celebrated 50 years at our church.
Ministry seemed to have a permanence. Until that Sunday. And I can still remember
the Sunday we found out. It shook my world a little. Even as a ninth grader I
knew what I was losing. I knew who I was losing. (I’m glad, a few years later,
he came back.)
Tenth grade. Okay y’all. It was my favorite year. Each year
made an impact, but there was something special about tenth grade. The Sedwicks
were our directors. My Sunday School teachers were Jody Mow and Jana Bellington
and those ladies poured into our
lives each and every Sunday. I saw and felt a deep love for the Lord in each of
their lives. I learned a lot that year. I learned a lot about practically
walking out my faith as a young woman. Every leader in that class led with such
sincerity and dedication. And some twenty years later, I remember that.
Junior year. We moved down a floor or two (I think two
because weren’t the youth offices on three?). My Sunday School teacher was
Kylie Minne. She was the youth intern’s new wife. A few months into the school
year, she announced she was (surprise!) pregnant.
Senior year. I want to say so much about senior year. My
Sunday School teacher was Joni Cleveland. I didn’t appreciate then the degree
of blessing bestowed on my life to have her teach me the Bible. I appreciate it
now. Because now, in God’s unique way of working, she and I teach women’s Bible
study on the same team. I remember we learned much (MUCH) about the end times
in preparation for the test we took at the end of the year to measure our Bible
knowledge. Wasn’t there a special Easter reenactment, too? And senior Sunday.
There was a moment we were all circled up, praying together, and I realized we’d
never be like that again. Seventeen years together (for some of us), and that
moment was it.
There’s so much I didn’t say, but this post has already
reached epic lengths. I do want to acknowledge that after Scott left, Shane
took over as Youth Minister. He loved Jesus, and he loved us so well. His
enthusiasm for ministry brought me back to volunteer when I got to college. The
Lord, in His faithfulness, gave me sweet friendships over the years. It is a
joy when those friends come back to visit and bring their babies to leave in my
care on Sunday mornings. And I take pride in the fact that there are three of
us currently on staff at First Baptist Dallas from the Class of 2001.
Stay tuned! Depending on how exhausted I am from the
birthday party tomorrow, I’ll try to write part 3…College Ministry and beyond!
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