Growing up in our church, one thing we could count on each year was Youth Sunday. On this Sunday, the “youth” (teens) taught the Sunday School classes, and on Sunday night played the instruments, sang, led music, and yes – even preached.
My first few years as a teen, I was happily content to teach the little kids. However, with advancing age came wisdom (supposedly), and before I knew it I had been assigned to teach the Amoma (Agoga? the classes had very odd names) class. Whatever its name, it was full of ancient ladies.
My partner in teaching was to be Rhoda, an adopted Indian (as in native American) girl with a penchant for running away and drug experimentation, so I had a feeling this would be interesting. I spent a lot of time preparing the lesson, including typing (yep, this was pre-computers) several questions on paper and distributing them to the women to answer. To my horror, none of the ladies would answer their questions! I would have thought they’d have had pity on the poor high school kid trying to teach them, but apparently not. My only other memory of the morning involved embarrassment when Rhoda began ad libbing about the perks of make-up (“You know, if a barn needs paint …”).
As a girl, I was mercifully free from consideration for preaching (that task fell to the most “with-it” senior boy), but I could usually count on being chosen to be pianist for the evening.
Did you participate in Youth Sunday as a child? Or maybe it’s just something my church did?