Vacation Bible School has begun at our church. This place goes nuts for VBS. You know the trend to have ever-more-elaborate children's birthday parties? Same idea here, I think. It's crazy busy, but it does make for an incredible experience even for the adults.

I think people here really do decorate the place out of sheer love for God and joy at going all out for the sake of the kids' spiritual experience. Of course every one of us has a shadow side. In this very accomplishment-oriented place I live in, there may be a little type-A mentality going on, who knows.

The theme this year is Bible Times, which means that all the crafts and activities are supposed to provide a window into what life was like during Jesus' time. Our foyer has a life-size stone well mock-up, and each child has his/her own blue tunic with sash, color-coded for each tribe. Each tribe has its own banner, propped up on its PVC-pipe banner stand. Anachronisms abound, but who cares. Brickmaking in an inflatable kiddie pool... even the elder in his late 50s is having a ball squishing muddy red clay between his toes. Having fun at church--what a concept.

I remember VBS as a child, in the southern baptist church. It was probably a pedagogical nightmare, looking back--lots of worksheets and whatnot. My most vivid memories of VBS were of the opening assembly in the sanctuary each morning. I remember saying pledges to the American flag, the Christian flag, and the Bible, each morning, in that order. (Forget the ambivalence of serving two masters--clearly U.S.A. comes first and Jesus comes second!) Bet you didn't know there were pledges to the Christian flag and the Bible, did you? I remember so well the colored overheads that displayed them as we recited them in turn--although the words are thankfully lost to me.

But on the whole, I liked the experience. There was something great about being in church for such a generous amount of time, learning old weird stories and singing old strange songs. Kids don't get quite as hung up on the facticity of biblical stories as so many adults do. I do remember a couple of skeptical moments--did Jonah really get swallowed by a big fish--but that seemed, and seems, beside the point to me?--they're good stories. And they're Good stories. The insistence on the historical accuracy of the biblical tale seemed kinda dumb to me. Santa wasn't real, except that he was. What's the problem? Now I articulate it differently: Does something have to be factual in order to be true? I also know enough to know that for some people, a Yes answer is a matter of life and death. For me, not so much.

My greatest moment of theological angst as a child (aside from the fact that I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior every single week just in case I'd done it wrong the week before--a subject for another time) came when I asked a Sunday School teacher how we would really know Jesus when he came to earth again. The answer, a firm but kind, "You'll just know." At the time I just accepted it. Looking back though, this was a pivotal moment. To this day I don't know whether
a) she had no idea what the answer was, and this was a way to comfort and/or quiet a kid asking too many questions
b) this was indeed the right and biblical answer--you know, despite the fact that many people didn't know Jesus the first time around, despite the fact that he was outwardly mocked and rejected--well, he's learned his lesson for round 2
or
c) the most troubling of all for a young person--that this was what she, my teacher, a grown-up, believed, and she shared it with all the conviction in the world, to the point that I accepted it... but she was wrong.

Perhaps there are additional options; there usually are.

The point is that I'm the adult now, and a minister, with young people entrusted to my care, including my own daughter. I think one of my most important jobs is to be a good steward of my own ignorance.

The college-age woman, clad in black, face and ears full of piercings, came into my office last week and said, "I don't know why I'm here, but I just accidentally ran over a dog, and somehow I just ended up here," and later, "I just want a sign that God is even out there. And even if I get a sign, how will I know it?s God and not just wishful thinking?"

I didn't say, You'll just know.

I said nothing.
Then after a long time I said, "Here's what I believe. And here's what I hope. And if I may, I'd like to share a Good story with you."
I hope it was OK.