“We need to start a new Sunday School class,” Luella said. Her eyes were lively and the words literally bounced off her tongue as she went on to describe her plan. “I’ve already talked with Linda, and Peggy, and Linda and we’ll all teach together. My sister Lydia lives right here in town and I bring her to church with me, but so many of the residents in the group homes live far from their families. They don’t have a church. It would just be a Sunday School class. We could probably talk the workers into bringing whoever wants to come each week. They have vans you know. I really think they need a Sunday School class.”
Soon after Luella spoke those words, we had a new Sunday School class at our small church for persons living in group homes throughout the county. Almost 25 persons, all of whom were mentally handicapped to some degree, joined this “Joy Class.” Each Sunday morning a few minutes before 10 a.m., the white county vans would arrive. Class members would walk, shuffle, or be pushed in a wheel chair, down the sidewalk and into the fellowship hall where hugs and smiles greeted them warmly. Seats were quickly found around the long tables prepared for them. The teachers took turns telling simple stories from the Bible. Class members would use glue and tape to create crafts to take home. Pretzels, goldfish, and water made a perfect ending. Sometimes it was chaos and other times calm. Nevertheless, after forty minutes every Sunday, class members would walk, shuffle, or be pushed back down the sidewalk, get into their white county vans, and drive off for home.
The teachers named their class well for it was always forty minutes of joy.
At first those were the only forty minutes a week the class members spent at the church. Yet, after several months, their teachers arranged for a few class members to come back on Sunday evening for a fellowship dinner. Members of the church welcomed them with grace and hospitality. At the next dinner, a few more members of the class blessed us with their presence. Gradually, the church began to expect members of the Joy Class to join them whenever we ate together.
Then, their teachers began to teach the class some simple Bible songs. Not long after, with energy and enthusiasm one Sunday, the Joy Class called us to worship by singing the words of Jesus Loves Me and He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands. Following their song most class members left for the ride back home, but a few stayed for the rest of the service. Every once in a while, as they learned a song, the church would be blessed as they shared it with us.
Seeing their growing interest in our congregation, the teachers and I decided to offer the class members an opportunity to join the church. So, I spent six weeks with the Joy Class. We talked about God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We talked through worship, discipleship, and service. We talked about telling other people about Jesus and what it means to join a church. Reflecting back, it was probably too many words shared to prepare class members to declare that Jesus Christ was their Lord and Savior.
At the end of the six weeks, three class members expressed interest in joining the church. One, Cynthia, had never spoken a word during our class sessions. She rarely seemed to be paying attention to the lessons and never gave any outward indication that she absorbed what we discussed. I was skeptical that she was making the decision to join the church on her own, but the class teachers told me repeatedly that Cynthia wanted to join.
On the appointed Sunday, the Session gathered with the entire Joy Class to hear these women’s professions of faith and to receive them into membership. As I asked all three together if Jesus Christ was their Savior and if they wanted to join the church, the other two women responded with the enthusiastic “yes!” I had come to expect from them. However, Cynthia was silent.
I moved to conclude the meeting, thinking I had been right about Cynthia. Yet, I looked at her one last time. At that moment, she turned her head to look at me and the other members of the Session while she slowly raised her arm. With her arm fully extended above her head, she clenched her fingers into a fist twice — a yes to both questions. Cynthia did not have the words … but after that, neither did we.
This year the presbyteries are considering a change to the Book of Order, Amendment 08-A, which would require that all new members received by the session “shall be presented to and welcomed by the congregation during a service of worship where they shall make a public profession of faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.” I certainly agree in principle with this change. It is already encouraged in the Directory for Worship (W-4.2004). My own practice has always been to include a public profession of faith as part of a new member’s welcome during worship, no matter how he or she joined the congregation. And yet, every time I do so, I remember Cynthia standing still with her arms by her side before the congregation. She did not raise her hand in worship. But we welcomed her anyway because we knew that she loved Jesus even if she didn’t have the words.
Matthew A. Rich is pastor, First Church, Lumberton, N. C.
1Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man is Not Alone: A Philosophy of Religion, (The Noonday Press: New York, 1951), p. 15.
