God doesn't stop teaching us just because we grow up

There’s something special about pausing long enough to look back at our past. How often do we actually give ourselves permission to revisit our childhood?

When I do, it is as if a whole scrapbook opens up in my mind; there are joyful memories and awkward ones, confusing moments and deeply comforting ones. Family life, school days, friendships; those early attempts at working out who we are. And, among them, are my earliest experiences of faith. 

I grew up going to Sunday school, a phrase that feels almost nostalgic now.The Baptist church I attended was filled with faithful, generous people who gave their time to teach us about Jesus. They were parents and leaders in my church family; people who knew us, cared for us and believed that what they were sharing truly mattered.

What if part of hearing God now involves gently unpicking what we have always assumed?

I can still remember the Bible stories so vividly, especially the story of Moses, the Israelites and the drama of Egypt. In fact, even now, as I write the word ‘Egypt’, I quietly sound it out in my head just as I did back then. 

A firm foundation

Sunday school was different to regular school as it was not just about sitting and listening. There were crafts, snacks, action songs and, of course, the dreaded memory verses.

I was not great at retaining scripture, so I approached those with a mixture of determination and mild panic, usually motivated by the promise of a sticker or a sweet. Yet even in the middle of all the giggles - as well as occasional mischief - something deeper was taking root.

As adults, we can feel pressure to appear as though we have everything neatly tied up

Looking back, I realise that much of my early faith was shaped by simply trusting what I was told. I did not ask many questions. I accepted, I absorbed and I followed. There is a beautiful innocence in that, but recently I have found myself reflecting on it in a new way.

In a church service recently, we were talking about hearing God’s voice. It struck me how often we imagine that voice in very particular ways, perhaps something grand and booming, or perhaps the familiar echo of scripture we learned as children. But what if part of hearing God now involves gently unpicking what we have always assumed?

Those early lessons were precious. They laid a foundation, given in love and good faith. Yet I have come to see that a foundation is not the finished building. For a long time, I leaned heavily on what others told me about God without exploring it for myself. Now, as an adult, I find myself in a season of rediscovery.

Free to be

There is something wonderfully freeing about asking questions again; about sitting with God and saying: “Help me understand this for myself.” It feels like encountering familiar truths with fresh eyes, almost as if I am discovering them for the first time. Faith becomes less about inherited certainty and more about a living relationship.

Perhaps that is where the invitation lies for all of us, to become childlike once more. Not childish, careless or naive, but curious, open and unafraid to admit that we do not have all the answers. As adults, we can feel pressure to appear as though we have everything neatly tied up, especially when it comes to faith. Yet there is great humility and freedom in acknowledging that we are still learning.

Our early years shape us, undoubtedly. They give us language, rhythm and understanding. But God is not limited to our past experiences of Him. So perhaps today is a good day to pause, to remember and then to gently move forward again. To hold those childhood memories with gratitude, while also allowing space for God to speak afresh. Because the story of our faith was never meant to stop in Sunday school.