I grew up in the 50's in a Christian family. We attended a little Bible Chapel in St. Louis County and were there whenever the doors were open. Our social and spiritual life pretty much revolved around activities at the church or with church friends. Ever present at our frequent Potluck Suppers were tuna casserole and one or two molded jello salads internally adorned with canned fruit and miniature marshmallows. One Friday evening a month the youth group would go to Sunshine Mission to serve meals and conduct the evening service.
At home we had evening family devotionals, or "family altar time" as some at our church called it. Most of the time they were nice; a few Bible verses read and briefly discussed, then a closing prayer. However, one particular year my mother decided to try something new for the December days leading up to Christmas. She bought a big candle, one that was about 12 inches high and maybe 4 inches in diameter. Down the side of the candle, in a straight vertical row, she attached 24 sequins, equally spaced apart. Alternating the red and green sequins added a festive touch. Then, (Pay attention. Here's were it gets exciting) every evening after supper, we would gather in the living room, mom or dad would light the candle at the beginning of family devotions. Our togetherness would last until the candle burned from the top sequin to the next one down. The idea was to get to the last sequin on Christmas eve.
The devotion would go something like this:
- Dad would open in prayer, then read a chapter or two from one of the Gospels.
- Dad would expound on what we had just read and then ask for our thoughts.
- Awkward silence.
- Mom would interject something.
- More awkward silence.
- My sister would say that she had to go to the bathroom.
- We waited until she returned.
- Dad would add another thought.
- Say it with me: awkward silence.
- Dad would say something like "Well, if there are no other thoughts, then we'll close in prayer."
- Dad would close in prayer.
- We would run for the hills, vamoose, go while the getting was good.
It didn't take too many evenings of this before my brother, sister and I decided my folks needed an "intervention," for their sakes as well as ours. Well, okay, mostly for ours. So we took turns sneaking into the living room during the day when no one was around and we would light that candle and let it burn down a bit. Just a bit. Not all the way to the next sequin. No, that would be too obvious. But down enough to make the evening's togetherness a little more meaningful. A little more bearable. A little shorter. Hey, we had homework to do.
I don't remember hearing the phrase "born again" at that time, although we knew the verse "Jesus sayeth unto him, 'Ye must be born again.'" And we did sing a song that started with "Do you know that you've been born again?" I don't want my tone to be construed as cynical, because my parents were great (as I've already mentioned, but had to say again to cover any residual guilty feelings I may have in writing this), our church family was wonderful, always putting actions behind words. But it was the '50s and out of that emerged, I assume, the prevalence of the phrase "born again."
So do you have similar church memories? Come back tomorrow because there will be a multiple choice quiz that will help you determine your own personal born again quotient. It will be fun. I'll light a candle and tell you when you are finished.
