I am thankful for a childhood faith that delighted in the wonder of God’s creation, trusted Jesus for anything and wanted to live for Him.
As a child I always knew where to find God. One of his favorite places was back in our woods. I would go there by myself, sit on the brown carpet of pine needles and listen as the trees whispered to each other. It was good background noise that made it real easy to hear God.
Another place I could always find him was in our church during the week. I rode my bicycle to the church and walked through the big doors. The church was never locked. It was quiet there, too. I would walk up past the pews until I got to the alter rail. The step that you kneeled on was like soft velvet. You could put your hands on the rail and pray. A big cross was hanging so that if you looked up you would see it. It was a good reminder of why we loved Jesus. He talked to me there.
That church was not a good place to drink water. The water had a yellow color to it and a funny smell. We knew, as children, that it had something to do with the graves being so close to the church kitchen but no grown up would ever admit that was the case.
The highlight of my year was Bible Camp. We spent all day learning about God, hearing stories of missionaries and singing so loudly that the walls could hardly handle the sound. When it got dark we built a campfire and sang some more. Sometimes there would be some boats that would go into the middle of the lake and make a circle. The kids in the boat would sing an echo to our songs from shore. That was one of the times when you knew that if Jesus wanted you to go and die in Africa you would be glad to do it.
On Wednesday night our parents could come and visit. We were glad they came but we tried to act to them as though it didn’t matter.
When you got a little older you could wash dishes for one week at camp and then get to go the next week free as a camper. It seemed like heaven would be a place where camp didn’t ever end.
I could write a long time about my faith through childhood eyes.
Now I am writing this blog called faith through aging eyes.
Do I still delight in the wonder of God, trust Jesus for anything and want to live for him?
Jesus said to Peter, “I have prayed for you that your faith does not fail.”
I’m going to find a quiet place where I can hear Jesus pray that for me.