Yesterday my 10-year-old grandson interviewed me for a school project. He had a list of questions about my ancestors, my childhood. His heritage.
Where did your ancestors come from? Were there any naming traditions? Where did you grow up?
I responded and he took notes on his iPad. So serious and so grown up, my Louis.
“What do you remember most about your childhood?”
I took a deep breath.
I still have the Bible I owned when I was Louis’ age. It’s full of underlined, highlighted and starred sections, especially in the Book of Revelation, a book that deals with the destruction of the earth as we now know it and the Great White Throne Judgment when all the unsaved are judged and condemned to damnation. When I was at the tender age of 10, I was scared to death about my own sinfulness and about burning in hell.
What does Louis know about damnation and hell, I thought? His life revolves around soccer and snacks and Star Wars and Xbox….
“I was an unhappy child,” I said.
He nodded and recorded my words on his iPad.
Every generation is unlike the one before it. I was raised in a different time and with different cultural imperatives than my own children. And now they are raising their families in ways that are again different.
All that damnation stuff from my childhood would make no sense to Louis.
Is it even necessary for him to understand it? Would he gain anything from it?
What do you think?