That Time My Sunday School Class Read The Book of Revelation

We thought we were being clever.

As you can tell, I was a lot of fun at parties.

I’ve talked before about what went wrong at Westminster Presbyterian; but before we literally hired Texas-style Regina George to be our pastor, it wasn’t all bad. I was still obviously that kid, but the pastor’s kids weren’t constantly trying to physiologically torment me over it. In fact, our dear Sunday School teachers did their best to foster an environment of good Christian fellowship and mutual trust and respect.

Provided none of us moved away, it was assumed that the ten or so of us in that class would be together through thick and thin until we went away to college. It was sort of expected that we would form a life-long friendship, a bond that couldn’t be broken, maybe even marry each other — if only because we would spend so much time growing up together. It was inevitable that we would know each other with a special intimacy.

None of that panned out, but Mr. John and Miss DeeBee tried their best in those early years. They had already shepherded two other graduating classes through Sunday school, Junior and Senior youth group, and confirmation. When it came to keeping dumbass lambs who don’t know nothing alive, we were not their first rodeo.

We were probably their most interesting, though, because I was not the only wild…