In the town—now a city—where I grew up, East St. Georges Avenue was lined with bars. Every weekend they were filled with people drinking, jukeboxes blaring, and soul food dinners selling out of the kitchens. These were just some of the places where the Down Linden and Up Linden communities came together. If you lived across U.S. Highway 1 & 9 toward Tremley Point, you were considered to be from Down Linden. If you lived on the East St. Georges Avenue side, you were from Up Linden.
On Friday nights, Pitty Pat card games were played for money in many homes, and cards were cut well into the early hours of Saturday morning, sometimes continuing on through Saturday night. House parties were alive with adults dancing, the Motown sound blaring, whiting fish frying, and collard greens simmering on the stove while children would sneak and peek around corners taking it all in. The laughter, the music, the drinking, and the unmistakable sense of community filled them with joy.
Faith wasn't usually the focus of those gatherings. No one was sitting around talking about God, and it didn't look like Jesus was invited in.
But something interesting happened every Sunday morning.
Many of those same households made sure their children got up, got dressed, went to Sunday School, and stayed for church. There was no debate about it. You were going to church.
My family lived Down Linden directly across the street from our church so there was no need for a church van. But years later, as a young adult, I would often see church vans from congregations throughout the community picking up and dropping off children on Sunday mornings. It was a reminder of something I had witnessed growing up: even when some adults were not active in church themselves, many still believed their children needed God.
Those same adults sitting in bars, playing cards, and dancing through the night understood something important. Even if they were not living according to what the preacher preached, they knew God was real. They knew their children would need Him someday. And they wanted their sons and daughters to have the opportunity to know Him.
Even if they didn't go, they sent their kids.
Sadly, today there are children who have never heard about Jesus and have never stepped foot inside of a church. Whatever the shortcomings of previous generations, many understood that their children needed to know God.
Parents... Please let God help you raise your children. Your child is going to need Him one day, and knowing Jesus Christ can make all the difference.
I know it made a difference for me. While stationed in Japan, there were times when I cried out to God because I felt so all alone. During another tour - while serving in Germany - I found myself yearning for His presence; wanting more of Him. Looking back, I thank God that I learned about Jesus and was sent to Mt. Moriah Baptist Church every Sunday (Now Greater Mt. Moriah Baptist Church). The seeds planted in my childhood helped prepare me for the moments when I would need Him most.
"Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." (Proverbs 22:6)
Selah.