I was pretty well known as a troublemaker in Sunday school from early on. I was even banned from asking questions at one point. It wasn’t that I had a rebellious spirit — I fully accepted that the Bible was the word of God and infallible. I just needed… help understanding certain parts of it. And I would, in good faith, look to the adults who were supposed to know everything to help explain these parts to me. A couple of specific examples I remember include the entire book of Job, because — and I don’t think I’m alone in this — what the fuck? As well as the bit about how God takes care of the sparrows and the lilies, so of course he will look after us. I had questions about the fact that some people in the world were, in fact, poor and starving. And then there was the story of Lot’s daughters, which, frankly, no children should even be exposed to, to begin with.
But the biggest and most enduring sticking point for me was always the story of the fall of Adam and Eve. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it, no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how many adults I asked. After trying and failing to get a satisfactory explanation from my elders at church, I have a very clear memory of going to my mom about it. She was the first adult who at least showed me the decency of acknowledging that I had a point, but ended up telling me that some things were just meant to be…
