I was fifteen. It was a beautiful spring day in the small town where I lived in the midwestern United States. On this particular Sunday afternoon my plan was to go bicycle riding with my friends. My parents, however, had other ideas. Our branch church was giving a Christian Science lecture that afternoon, and they felt I should go.
I gave what I thought were some pretty valid arguments against that idea: I had promised my friends earlier that I would go bike riding with them—and I couldn't go back on my word, and besides, it was a perfect day for bike riding. Couldn't they just tell me later what the lecturer said?
But they insisted that I go to the lecture—gently, but firmly.
