My name is Katie and I'm 19 years old. This is my first post here and I have felt this need to tell people in the awana ministry my story of how awana impacted my life. There is only one difference between my story and yours and it is that mine is about how awana has impacted my life negatively.

Please hear me out. I'm not typing this because I want revenge or that I hate people who love awana. I've accepted Jesus as my savior and I want to follow Him with my life. awana did not influence that decision. It was my own. And I made it long after I left. I'm writing this because I feel for the children who were like me and there aren't going to be testimonies like this on the website because it's a community of awana lovers. I would respect you were you to say that you think Camp Sonshine (the camp that brought me to Christ) is the worst program you've ever heard of and that you don't want anyone associating with it it as long as you were able to support that opinion. I'm going to support my opinion here so that you'll understand what it's like to be on my side of the fence and so that you can respect my opinion as I would respect yours.

On the surface, awana seems like the ideal program for children. It encourages them to memorize Bible verses and stay active and physically fit. My church, Derwood Bible Church, started awana club when I was in kindergarten. My parents saw the surface, the tip of the iceburg, so to speak, of what the program was and they thought it was a good idea to get their children involved in it. My brother started Cubbies and I started Sparkies that year (1996 and if you're doing the math than I'll just say that my parents got me started in school a bit late). I remember just about nothing about being in kindergarten so I can't tell you whether or not I liked awana then. I went to awana every Sunday. Things changed after the summer was over. awana moved to an elementary school to make room for all the new kids who came. That's when my real troubles began.

DBC initiated designated "game time," which was different at the church building because of a lack of room. They used the gym at the school and the outside when it was warm enough. They did Bible recitations at various classrooms. They started sending mail to the parents about how awana was to be run and what the parents had to do to get involved. My parents are unfortunately the sort who fall for that type of thing and, soon, they dug deep into the awana program and into making their children succeed there. They assumed that not sending their kids to awana would mean that they would never learn the gospel despite the fact that I attended Sunday School every week.

I'm now going to break off this talk of techinical aspects of what my church did with awana and let me now take you through my typical Sunday afternoon and evening during my time at awana. Every once in a while, I'd bring a friend home from church and we'd have a playdate. That was assuming I had memorized my Bible verses earlier that week. But often, by Sunday, I was still struggling with it and my parents refused to allow me to do anything I enjoyed unless I could recite the verses to them. Typically, I'd get home from church, eat lunch, and lounge in my room until my mom would hand me my awana book and tell me to study. And she wouldn't let me do anything except study. I read the same words over and over until my seven year old brain collapsed and I would try to recite the verse to my mom or dad. I usually failed at this and they would tell me to study some more. awana soon became harder than schoolwork. Sometimes I was meek and miserably did what I was told. But other times, I was an angry child and my parents didn't understand why. I told them I wanted to go and play and that I didn't have to memorize all those verses and that it was stupid and that I hated it. It got to the point where I would be openly sobbing as they shouted my verses over the din I was making. They failed to see how much torture it was putting me through. And I wasn't even at awana yet.

I forget what time awana started but if I was invited to do something Sunday evening, my parents wouldn't listen to pleading, they would say no right away. I would go to the place and my parents would drop me off with stern warnings. I then would make my way to the gym where we pledged alleigance to the American flag and to the awana flag. We then read some announcements and then we would pray.

Then it was the first and worst round of torture: game time. I am not athletic. I didn't know how to dribble a basketball until I was nine and I was a slow runner. Sports didn't interest me at all. I was an introvert who didn't like the sports setting, all the cheering and screaming that went on. No matter what game we played, I was the last in line so I wouldn't have to do any laps twice. I preferred it that way although the kids on my team were malicious about it. The game leader would report to my parents if I refused to cooperate so I didn't dare refuse (very often). I would try my best but 7 times out of 10, I was the reason my team lost. My teammates would gripe and scowl and make the most nasty comments about me. We're talking little kids who care more about candy and winning than the fact that they continually made the short, stupid little blond girl cry. My team leaders, who were moms at the church, often took me aside and told me things like "you can do it, you're just not trying" or "this is fun so let me see you smile." I was trying, as I told them multiple times, and they insisted that I wasn't or I'd be faster and better. Try telling an eight year old who is really trying to do something even though they hate it that they're not trying and that they need to work harder. It's simply devistating to hear from peers but from an almighty grownup, it's worse than anything. I would leave game time feeling anger at myself and at awana. When a child hates themself at that young age, something is wrong.

Then it was that time to recite verses. Even if I could recite them to my parents, sometimes I wouldn't be able to recite the verse to my team leader. There was noise, a lot of talking. I have very mild ADD and I have trouble focusing with that many people talking so close by. My team leader, annoyed at me because of game time, would be snappy and tell me I was wrong. Then she'd go on to another kid from the group while I studied. Then I'd get a chance to recite it again. If I failed, it meant I'd be grounded so I would try to recite the verse but sometimes I still couldn't. If I made it through game time without crying, this would usually be the point in which the tears would start. I would think things like "I can't do it!" or "I'm so stupid!" Again, when a child that young feels that unconfident, it's not okay.

Then it was council time. If there was anything that was ever fun about awana, that would be it. The kids would complain about it but I looked forward to it because it meant awana was almost over and I would be able to go home. It also meant I wouldn't feel any pressure. Usually, though, the speakers would be boring. Every once in a while, someone would say something interesting and there was a running skit that would pop up occasionally which was very similar to Doctor Who except that the time machine would transport the time travelers to the Bible times and we would learn a Bible story. Those were the only council times I ever actually enjoyed although I tolerated all of them. It was an excuse to be part of a group and not singled out as the worst person on the team. If none of the cooler people were about, I'd talk people I thought were my friends. People from my team would often hear me talking about how much I wanted to be an actress and how much I loved acting and they would shout things like "you're too stupid to be an actress" and "you'll never be good at acting because you're not good at anything." The team leaders would hear this and they would pretend they didn't hear anything because they didn't want to get involved and stick up for me. I'd get through council time all right, even, very rarely, cheer up quite a bit. They'd announce the outstanding winner and my team, no matter which team I was a part of be it yellow, blue, green, or red, almost never won so I almost never got a prize. And then I'd go home in worse spirits than when I left.

And now I'm going to name a specific week that I remember only because, thinking back, I get angry about this now although at the time, it was just upsetting. I was in fourth grade and my best and only friend, Sarah, moved to Tennessee during the preceding week. I didn't want to go to awana with that emotional burden and, of course, I was forced to go anyway. I was in fourth grade at the time. I was so angry about being forced to go and so upset about losing the only friend I had left that as soon as my parents left, I ran away and hid in the dark bathroom. I sat down on the floor of the room and sobbed my little ten year old heart out. A team leader heard my crying and found me. Instead of being kind, she ordered me to get out of the bathroom. I obeyed. In the hallway, she, someone else's mother, lectured me on running off. She told me to stop crying right that instant and to get to game time right then. I didn't stop crying. She squeezed my wrist very hard as she marched me to some higher authority and the higher authority at least asked me why I was crying. I told the person why and they (I honestly can't remember if they were male or female) told my team leader to let me sit out at game time, as if that offered any comfort. Every leader knew I hated game time. But they let me sit out so I wouldn't be a basketcase, not because they felt any affection toward me. That memory angers me because of later events and because I know now exactly the right thing to do in that situation. I'm not a mother so why didn't the mothers know?

awana was a weekly torture until fifth grade. I went to awana camp and I actually had a pretty good time although it was nothing compared to what happened later on.

My family switched churches when I was in sixth grade so I escaped awana forever after that. But its affect was still there. In seventh grade, things went wrong and I turned away from God. I started cutting myself and hating myself. I attempted suicide. I hated God because of what He had done to me through awana and because of the circumstances in my life. Believe it or not, the pain I felt thanks to the way I was treated in awana followed me, even 8 years later I still feel it. I asked why a loving God would make His followers go through torture like that when all my nonChristian friends were spending their Sundays free and happy. Yes, I was having these thoughts in seventh grade when it was all over. Nothing ever got better in my life; it was one awful thing after another. I blamed myself for everything and I hated God for not making me a better person.

It all happened in the summer after my freshman year of high school. I worked at a camp called Camp Sonshine that summer with people I am very close to even now. My bosses were wonderful people who sought to love me and make sure I was having fun and learning. I found my niche: doing skits in an activity called Discovery Time. What a difference that made. I learned the Beatitudes that year because I had to perform the same skit for two groups of children at a time and I loved every second of it. I was learning about God with the most wonderful people. I realized that I wasn't so awful, that I could be loved and that I could succeed. So I dedicated my life to Christ and strived to be the person they were to me. I'm actually going to get a job working alongside my coworker for the three years I worked at Camp Sonshine because he is the sort of person who doesn't work well with everyone and so am I. Our personalities clicked and we really like working together because we get along so well. He encouraged me so much that I felt like a normal person, a person who fit in. I felt like I belonged. Camp Sonshine did for me what awana was supposed to do. The team leaders at awana were so ignorant and they showed no love toward me. My boss and coworker at Camp Sonshine showed love toward me so much that they are my role models.

You love awana, I know that. Please, I am asking you, think of the Katies in awana for whom it is a weekly torture.There are two underlying messages. Don't pressure kids to do anything they don't want to do. The kids who hate game time are the kids who have to go to PE and they hate it there too. Why add an extra PE session? Personally, I believe there should be an alternative to game time that allows kids to be creative. Maybe you could do a drama program instead. I strongly believe drama should be manditory in elementary schools just like PE is because I feel that drama teaches more life skills than PE ever will. Drama teaches teamwork because you have to depend on each other to make a performance good. It teaches confidence. Game time wrecks confidence in non athletic children. Kids should be offered a choice. That alone would cause children to love awana and look forward to it. Don't want to do drama? Okay, find an activity that artsy kids will love.

Show love and kindness toward the Katies in awana. Don't let the amount of wins you get matter more than a little girl or boy who feels like they can't do anything. Show God's love through awana because if all awana programs are like the ones at DBC, only the athletes will enjoy it and there's the FCA for that. Think of the artists and the performers. Think about what the different kids like because chances are, they're being forced to go to awana by parents who are ignorant of the emotional trauma they are experiencing. Don't pretend the Katies don't exist. They need your love. The only way to show them the kind God that you and the rest of awana worships is to act like Him. awana programs will drive children away from God if all they care about is winning and expanding.

I told my story to a few club leaders and one said something very wise in response: "We can (sometimes) talk the talk, but how many of us life the love? I'm not talking about a passive tolerance, but Christ's dynamic, outreaching love. My clubbers should be able to hear a leader coming and light up, secure in the environment where worship of God (via studying AND listening) and love of people is the attitude of the leadership. Instead, I see so many people talking at the unsaved, thinking that they will overcome with their words and their wisdom. In fact, it's just the opposite. Hearts change through God's love and God's leading. We Christians have God's love in our hearts, but we dam up the stream with our insistence on doing things our own way. How foolish, and yet how easy it is to believe that we are something without God."

I'll stick around to answer questions and read your responses so please respond. Call me a fool and tell me I'm making this all up if you want to. But that would just put you at the level of the awana leaders that showed me no kindness. I pray my exprience at awana would serve to save the other Katies. Don't let the pain I endured be for nothing. Remember: God loves Katies just as much as athletes and good memorizers.

God bless,
~Katie

2 Peter 1:5-9
For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But if anyone does not have them, he is nearsighted and blind, and has forgotten that he has been cleansed from his past sins.