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I didn’t expect to find revelation in a Sunday school classroom. I had simply agreed to finish teaching the life of Joseph. But what began as a reluctant commitment turned into a spiritual awakening for me and for those I taught.
When I first walked into the adult Sunday school class, I nearly walked out. A deacon and another Bible teacher were seated, ready to critique. They often interrupted me to re-explain what I had just said. It was exasperating. Why ask me to teach when others in the room clearly felt more qualified?
One day, a couple sitting near the deacon spoke up: “Would you be quiet? We don’t want to hear what you have to say.” I braced for confrontation. But the deacon said nothing. He never returned, and the other disruptive teacher left as well. I breathed a sigh of relief.
The superintendent hadn’t found a replacement, so he handed me a new book and asked me to continue. This happened for three more quarters. I didn’t mind—I was beginning to love teaching.
Eventually, he asked what I’d like to teach next. “The Bible,” I said. Freed from the constraints of curriculum, I discovered three truths: God’s faithfulness to answer our questions, the power of spiritual gifts, and the transformative nature of God’s Word.
Before I met my husband, I wrestled with a question: Where is God in the faith I’ve embraced? The principles I’d learned could be found in secular self-help books. Jesus answered His disciples’ questions—but I had many, and no answers.
I knew God had heard my questions when a pastor walked past me, then turned around and took my hand. “Please give her what she has looked for these many years,” he prayed. He didn’t know me. His prayer could have only been prompted by the Holy Spirit. Yet it would be another decade before that prayer was answered.
As I taught the Sunday school class, my questions were answered. Monday mornings became a sacred time of research, prayer, and revelation. I’d begin with an outline, only to finish with a completely different, Spirit-led lesson. Some were so inspired, I believe they were interpretations of tongues. With each lesson, my understanding of God deepened.
One Sunday, a deacon brought a disheveled man to class. He sat silently, staring at his shoes. He returned the following Sunday. Week by week, his appearance changed: combed hair, tied shoes, tucked shirt, a belt, a Bible. By the time I finished teaching Romans, he had become one of the happiest, best-dressed men in the class—a living testimony to the power of God’s Word.
While teaching Romans, one verse caught my attention: “walk in the steps of faith which our father Abraham had…” (Romans 4:12 NKJV). I hadn’t planned to write a book when I chose my next series title, Steps of Faith. But that is what happened.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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