I was reminded today of a story from my childhood, a story that may explain a lot about my son. I attended Vacation Bible School (VBS) every summer from probably age five through age twelve. Well, during one of those younger years, the theme had something to do with 'Running the Race.' Every morning all of the kids met in the church sanctuary for a skit and an inspirational speech from the main person in the skits.
Well, this person kept going on and on about running this race. Running to the next city over and how we were going to train for it all week and how it was a seven mile run and how he knew we could all do it.
And see, I'm sure he tied it into God's Word somehow, but I was so caught up in RUNNING in the HEAT that I didn't hear any of that. And I didn't ask anybody. I just sat in my pew, petrified.
Finally, on Wednesday, during a group activity outside with another class, I felt dizzy just thinking about all of that panting and gasping for breath while I ran and sweated and I just lost it and ran over to the nearest VBS volunteer, who I had never seen before, sobbing uncontrollably. Even after they took me inside and let me have cookies and juice, I never told them about my fear. I just reiterated my need to GO HOME THAT MINUTE.
I remember my older sister, who also attended VBS, and my mom explaining later that afternoon that the man wasn't really serious about running seven miles. In fact, I wouldn't have to run at all.
I can't say this for sure, but I know I thought, "Well, then why did he SAY that? JERK."