Photo by Jonathan Pielmayer on Unsplash When I moved to Ohio for my new library job—which, mercifully, was not centered on audiovisual equipment—I had freedom of choice for church once again. Not tied to a church-run school, I could choose any Baptist church I wanted! After a choice that didn’t ultimately work, I chose a bigger, more established church, with a pastor I’d known from my home church in Akron. The thing is, among some Baptists—and probably other denominations— adult Sunday School classes were segregated by marital status and age. There was the Young Marrieds class and whatever the next step was—Parents of Teenagers, maybe. But all the single people had a class together, which meant sometimes college kids came to our class, and some of us were in our thirties. It was impossible to age out of the class until one was a senior citizen; marriage was the only escape. We were “church leftovers,” as one happily married young man once described such a class, not meaning to be unkind, but hopelessly clueless. (This wasn't said in my church, but one I was visiting.) We met across the street from the church in the associate pastor’s home, which was cozy and offered treats. It was kind of the pastor (who taught the class) and his wife to open their home when there were no classrooms remaining in the church building—but it also separated us physically from the rest of the church folks for that hour. Singles class was both like and not like being in perpetual youth group. Sometimes other people in the church invited us over on a Saturday night to eat and play games or have a Bible study. Sometimes we went as a group to a local restaurant for snacks after Sunday evening services. Twice we went on mission trips, working with a couple who needed extra help to put on Vacation Bible School, trying to save the lost of Vermont. On very rare occasions, two people in the group became a couple. I know that some of those relationships ended badly. The mystery is why we stayed at all, but we were wired to be in church whenever the doors were open—even if those doors were across the street.
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Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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