Sunday School

This is a story with which I take great liberty in retelling, but the central message remains the same.

Ms. Sarah taught the toddler’s Sunday school class at church for forever. She had seen countless of her classes graduate from high school and start families of their own. She had taught the grand-children of her students. It goes without saying that Ms. Sarah was old. Some joked that the church building was built where it was because that is where Ms. Sarah was standing at the time.

Ms. Sarah’s curricula for toddlers had been the same for decades. She focused on teaching the children about the elements of the worship service in hopes it would help them behave during the main event. Each Sunday, the children looked forward to their juice and crackers. They learned to bow their heads and be quiet for prayers. They learned songs and joyously sang along. They each brought a fist full of change for the simulated collection.

Inevitably, Ms. Sarah passed. God chose a Saturday to take her home. The following Sunday, there was a rush to find a substitute. The young woman selected did her best, but inevitably didn’t cover all the lessons Ms. Sarah was so famous for teaching. In particular, she forget to take up the collection.

When class concluded, the children were escorted to the auditorium and returned to their parents for the service. Timmy’s mother noticed he was still clutching the fist full of coins he had been give for the class collection. “Why didn’t you give your money to Jesus today?” she inquired.

In a plain and simple voice that only a child of four can have, Timmy replied, “I couldn’t give my money to Jesus today. She wasn’t there.”

Are you such a reflection of Him?


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