Last Sunday was my rotation to teach the Children Sunday Bible School. As I prepared the lesson, I thought to myself: I will have a hard time to keep the kids interested in the Jesus Triumphantly Entered Jerusalem subject. The lesson will be short for sure, so I better prepare lesson activities to accompany them for the rest of the class time. So I prepared. Sunday came, and I taught the class. My first question to the children was: “What is special about next Sunday?” They all excitedly shouted out: “It’s Easter!!!” Then came my second question to them “Why do we celebrate Easter?” which silenced the whole class. They all silently thought for few seconds, then gave me generic answer “It’s another holiday!“, a wrong answer “It’s Jesus’ birthday!“, and an irrelevant answer: “To hunt for Easter eggs and bunny!” None gave me the real answer. This came as a shocker to me. I’m not sure if they have learned and forgot about it, or just have never heard anyone explained to them before. So I took time to tell them the meaning of Easter that Jesus came to earth to die for our sins. He died on the cross, buried in the tomb, but after 3 days He has risen from the death. We are celeberating because our God we worship is a living God. The lesson resumed after that, and they enjoyed the activities after the lesson. I just hope they will remember what Easter is about a year from now, or in future, and give the correct answer to whoever ask of them.
Thinking way back to my childhood days, I feel I owe a lot to many of my Sunday School Teachers, from whom I received most of the basics of a Christian faith and the Bible. They had built the foundation of faith in me that I can continue to build upon. When we were young, I think the reason we came to church is because our parents were going, or we just wanted to hang out with our friends. It was just fun!! We were not there to learn. We were not focusing on the meaning of what the Sunday School teachers taught. But with their patience, their funny sock-puppets, their cool story-telling skill, their craft projects, and countless of Bible stories and memory verses, they have built up a wonderful treasure in our heart that we later in life would soon realize its richness and its worth. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of their role and the impact they have on my spiritual life. With their sacrifices, they planted the seed and God made it grow. (1 Corinthians 3:6)
My daughter, Grace, likes going to church because she could see her friends and play with them. She likes singing loud (and offkey … hehehe) with her friends as it were screaming competition. She likes the little snack treats given from the teacher, even though she doesn’t eat the same snack we bought at home. On the drive way home every Sunday, I usually ask her “What did you learn in class today, Grace?” She would brush off sparingly few details about the Bible story she learned, or many times she had already forgot, and excitingly telling about the craft project she did. That’s OK if Grace doesn’t remember the lesson now. It is still in her head. One day, God will remind her of the lesson, and He will make it personally meaningful to her.
So, if you are a Sunday Bible School teacher, be proud that you are doing an investment for God’s Kingdom. Your work is changing lives. Don’t grow weary if the kids doesn’t remember anything you taught. Don’t be bored if the lessons are repetitive, or too straight forward. Let us just keep watering, and let God take care the growing part. He will grant you the Oscar of Green Thumb Award (as know as, the crown … hehehe) on the day you see Him.
For “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” — Romans 10:13-14
I hope you find encouragement from this wonderful song Thank You, by Ray Boltz