It's 4:37 AM and I'm fully clothed in my empty bathtub stress eating glazed donuts from the sketchy gas station down the street because apparently when you accidentally convince children that scripture requires choreography, your brain demands sugar and enclosed spaces.
My cat is judging me through the bathroom door, which honestly is fair since I spent three hours tonight googling whether it's possible to get fired from volunteer Sunday school for turning Romans 8:28 into what my pastor called "interpretive dance ministry."
Today Caleb performed his full choreographed version of "all things work together for good" during offering time while two hundred adults tried not to laugh and I wanted to evaporate into mist.
How everything went completely sideways
So yesterday I'm feeling super creative about memory verse retention when I decide to invent TikTok style dances for Psalm 139:14 because kids love movement and surely connecting scripture to their cultural interests would be innovative teaching.
I choreographed elaborate moves for "fearfully and wonderfully made" with spins and jazz hands and pointing gestures that took me two hours to perfect.
Seemed brilliant until Emma performed it for her entire conservative Baptist extended family during Sunday dinner and her grandmother nearly fainted thinking we were teaching some kind of charismatic worship dancing.
But then ALL the kids wanted to create dances for every single verse and suddenly I'm running an accidental holy choreography competition that spiraled completely out of control.
My trail of scripture disasters
This isn't even my worst memory verse catastrophe. I've been systematically destroying biblical education for months:
Last month: created beatboxing rhythms for John 3:16 because kids love music. Now Marcus beatboxes "for God so loved the world" during math class and his teacher sent a note asking if he has behavioral issues.
Three weeks ago: taught "be still and know that I am God" through freeze dance games. Perfect until Sophie informed her mother that God only speaks when you stop moving completely, so now she stands motionless for fifteen minutes every time she prays.
Two weeks ago: had kids make friendship bracelets while memorizing Proverbs 17:17 about loving friends. Disaster when Emma decided Marcus wasn't a real friend because his bracelet was ugly and lumpy according to bible friendship standards.
Last week: invented hand clapping patterns for Philippians 4:4 about rejoicing always. Backfired when kids started aggressively clapping at anyone who expressed sadness because the bible says you have to be happy constantly.
Every creative method has made scripture more confusing instead of more meaningful.
The rap battle incident that ended my credibility
Month before last I thought I'd be genius and teach 1 Corinthians 13 through rap competitions because kids love battles and surely combining biblical love with hip hop would be educational excellence.
Divided class into teams to create rap verses about love being patient and kind while not being envious or boastful.
It worked too well.
Kids started having aggressive scripture rap battles during lunch period. Tyler got sent to the principal's office for battle rapping about Jesus to a kid who wouldn't share cookies.
Final straw when sweet Hannah challenged the Methodist Sunday school teacher down the street to a scripture slam because obviously our church had superior memory verse techniques.
I accidentally created inter-denominational hip hop theology warfare among elementary schoolers.
The email that made me question my existence
Monday morning Caleb's mom sent this:
"Hi Sarah, Caleb performed his Romans 8:28 dance routine during school talent show and announced that your church teaches kids bible verses don't count unless they have choreography. His teacher asked if we attend some kind of interpretive dance cult. Also he's refusing to pray without doing hand motions for Psalm 23. Should I be worried? Thanks"
I printed this email and then immediately shredded it because somehow destroying evidence felt better than acknowledging I taught her son that prayer requires performance art.
The conversation that broke my brain
Sunday night I called my friend Patricia who's somehow taught memory verses for thirty years without creating cultural disasters:
"Patricia, I think I accidentally convinced children that scripture is basically content for their personal entertainment channels and now they think bible verses need background music and special effects. Help."
"Sarah, what is wrong with your brain?"
"I was trying to make memory verses engaging so kids would actually remember them instead of just mindlessly reciting words."
"Honey, these children don't need God's word to sound like their favorite app. They need God's word to sound like truth that matters."
"But how do I compete with TikTok for their attention spans?"
"Maybe try remembering that scripture has been changing hearts for thousands of years without requiring backup dancers."
She hung up and I deserved it.
The Sunday that accidentally worked
Six weeks ago I completely forgot my creative choreography plans and just had kids sit quietly and repeat Psalm 23:1 together.
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."
No dancing, no rapping, no hand motions. Just saying words and talking about shepherds and how God takes care of us.
Something incredible happened. Complete attention. Real questions.
"What's a shepherd?" "Why sheep?" "Does God really help when bad things happen?" "My grandpa died. Was God still taking care of him?"
Twenty minutes of genuine conversation about trust and God's love and kids remembered the verse because it connected to actual feelings, not because they could perform it with jazz hands.
Sitting in this bathtub at 5:14 AM understanding everything
I've been so desperate to make scripture entertaining that I forgot scripture doesn't need my help to be important.
When I turn bible verses into dance routines, kids remember my choreography instead of God's truth.
When I make memory verses into rap battles, kids focus on winning instead of understanding.
When I force scripture to sound like social media trends, I'm teaching them God's word only matters if it matches whatever they're obsessed with this week.
These children don't need bible verses to entertain them. They need bible verses to change them.
What I'm attempting next week
Just reading scripture together and talking about what it means.
No performances, no competitions, no forcing ancient truth to sound like temporary entertainment.
Just "here's what God says and here's why it matters and here's how it shows us how much he loves you."
Maybe the most creative way to teach memory verses is letting them be what they've always been: God's truth speaking to human hearts without needing my cultural costume changes.
The donuts are gone but I'm still sitting in this bathtub because apparently processing your teaching disasters requires small spaces and questionable food choices.
Time to figure out how to undo months of accidentally teaching kids that bible verses are performance art instead of words that transform lives.
