Freshman year of high school I was on my school’s debate team. The coach was a shriveled, intense old man who always smoked very thin cigarettes-the kind that sponsor women’s tennis tournaments. My partner was a sharp young lad who currently attends Harvard. Consequently there were high expectations for us despite our complete lack of experience or, for that matter, research on the selected topic. As the debate was about to begin, my partner (not yet possessing the incredible arrogance that comes attached to every Harvard admissions letter) turned to me and said, “Bret, the pressure is too much. I’m not sure I can do it.” I (already possessing the incredible arrogance that would later be amplified by the supremacy of the Duke basketball team) replied with confidence, “I can handle pressure.”
You see I had already been in the most pressure-filled situation that I would ever experience in my life: Sunday School
The stakes are all higher at Sunday School. If you miss a question in geometry, you may feel a little embarrassed. If you miss a question in Sunday School you may have just committed blasphemy. In Sunday School kids were always looking into the sky with apprehension, fearing the moment they would be struck down by their creator. Every time there was a rumble of thunder outside you’d see 10 kids leap under a pew.
And on top of all that, the subject matter was tough. They’re all like “Jesus is God’s son” and then five minutes later it’s “Jesus is God.” The concept of the Trinity is a freakin’ tough thing to lay on a six year old. At the same time that you’re learning arithmetic, Sunday School is telling you that 1+1+1=1. It took hundreds of years for theologians to try and figure out what’s going on there and the final verdict was “Trust us, it just works that way.”
The pressure isn’t eased at all by the subject matter. “Hey kids, let’s read the story of Noah. Everybody was messing up except for Noah so God decided that the best thing to do for that situation was to make it rain till 99.9% of the earth’s population drowned to death.” Even as a young child I couldn’t help but feel that fun little songs about the sounds the pairs of animals made seemed slightly out of place when addressing mass genocide.
Later on the wonderful Moses parts the Red Sea so that the Israelites may cross out of Egypt. And then what happens, oh yeah some more people get drowned. Everybody looked at me pretty strangely that day when I was 7 and during a baptism I ran towards the minister screaming, “No! Don’t do it! For the love of God it’s just a baby, let the poor child live.” As far as I can tell, God seemed to be just a huge fan of drowning people. No wonder Jesus walked on water. He didn’t even trust himself.
I made it through Sunday School though, and I did it all using a little trick I learned. Whenever my teacher would ask me a question, I would just answer “Jesus.” Trust me, in Sunday School it’s right 90% of the time. “Who is the Lamb of God?” – Jesus Who is the Bread of Life?” – Jesus “What would you like for lunch today little Bret?” – Jesus (think Communion, it works!)
I left Sunday School a nervous wreck, but I knew that the pressure would never get as bad as that again and that I would be able to stand up bravely to any challenge later in my life. So I stood confidently next to my Harvard pal and listened carefully to the opposition’s opposing statement. My debating opponent, with great flourish, ended his speech and looked challengingly at us as he awaited our rebuttal.
My partner stepped forward. It was his turn to speak. I’d seen him taking notes during the preliminary argument and he looked ready, but I held out an arm and pushed him back. It was time I take charge of the situation. Striding confidently to the podium, I began my speech.
“Jesus.”
I then proceeded to end my speech with a slight raising of my left eyebrow and took my seat.
We lost the debate of course, but what nobody else in that room realized was that the weatherman was forecasting rain for that weekend. And I had just built a very big boat.