When I was school-aged, my mother would drop me off at Sunday school while she attended the adult church service.

As was typical, in the weeks before Christmas, we were inundated with the story of Jesus’s birth: being born in the barn, cradled in a manger, visits from the Wise Men, the little drummer boy, etc.

Then, right after Christmas, we were taught about some of Jesus’s teachings. This led up to Easter, where Jesus was betrayed, arrested, convicted, and then executed.

One of my female classmates broke into tears when we first were taught about his execution, which was rather brutal. The teacher tried to console the girl.

Teacher: “It’s okay. This happened hundreds of years ago.”

Girl: “But he was just a baby!”

She obviously didn’t get that the narrative was covering his whole life; she thought it was happening in real time. Still, the crucifixion story is a bit graphic for elementary kids to handle.

This happened in Sunday school when I was six years old. The first time one of the kids in my class had their birthday on a Sunday, the teacher brought out a birthday cake. Candles were placed around the top, and we sang Happy Birthday. My classmate blew out the candles, and the teacher took the cake into the kitchen next to our classroom.

Instead of bringing out plates with slices of cake for the eight of us in the class, she came out with a cookie and some Kool-Aid.

Where was the cake? Why didn’t we get a piece of cake?

I was disappointed and didn’t enjoy the cookie that much. But I ate my cookie, nonetheless. It’s all we were given.

When we got home after church service, I complained to my mom about not getting a piece of that cake.

Chuckling, she explained to me that the cake was made of papier-mâché with rosettes that had holes for the candles.

But I was still disappointed.

Related:
The Cake Is A Lie, Part 11
The Cake Is A Lie, Part 10
The Cake Is A Lie, Part 9
The Cake Is A Lie, Part 8
The Cake Is A Lie, Part 7

When I was around second grade, my church put on a Christmas play involving every child in Sunday school, telling the story of Jesus’s birth. I was cast as one of the three wise men, and our role was to stand in front of the mics, look up at the ceiling, and comment on the Star of Bethlehem. In order to prevent us from looking in three different directions, we were told beforehand to look in the direction of the ceiling fan. Unfortunately, I had no idea where the fan was in the nave, especially in the darkened room.

Wise Man #1: “Wow, look at that star!”

Wise Man #2: “That star is shining so bright!”

Me: “What could that star mean?” *Pauses* “Where is that stupid star?”

My mom told me afterward that all the adults around her thought it was adorable, which totally made up for the other kids telling me their parents were recording the play and I blew their big moment.

I’m volunteering at my church’s Vacation Bible Camp during the summer, leading the first-grade group. This mostly involves wrangling wriggly children and preventing them from knocking down intricate butcher paper decorations.

At one point, we have to wait outside one station while the previous class is finishing up. To keep the kids occupied, I start asking them about their plans for the fall. One kid pipes up.

Student: “What grade are you going to be in?”

Me: “I’m actually out of school.”

Student: “So, what are you doing in the fall?”

Me: “Well, I’m engaged, so I’ll be getting married this fall.”

Student: “Oh, so, you’re pregnant.”

Luckily, none of the other teachers in this very traditional church setting were around to hear, and I quickly corrected him, but I had to wonder what order these things typically happened in his family for a six-year-old to reach that conclusion!

I am an assistant for a Sunday school working with three- to five-year-old children. Class hasn’t yet started today, so I’m trying to entertain some of the early arrivals in the meantime.

Me: “What are you going to dress up as for Halloween?”

A few kids shout out their costume choices. However, one little girl who doesn’t usually frequent our church speaks up afterward. She speaks in a completely serious voice.

Girl: “We don’t do Halloween because it makes baby Jesus cry.”

I swear that was the first, and only, time I’d ever heard someone use the whole “makes baby Jesus cry” phrase with complete seriousness. I had trouble just keeping a straight face and pretending that was a normal comment.

I didn’t see the girl back again. I suppose our heathen church that would allow children to enjoy a secular holiday that wasn’t harming anyone in any way wasn’t up to her parent’s standards.