Stalking, Computer Tossing, and Credit Cards for Jesus (Part 2)

(Note: Part 1 can be found here.)

We got married on a perfect December day. 

As newly married people are, we were still optimistic about life and ministry. We were a little confused when I found out I was pregnant with Kyla less than two months into marriage. Surprise! We had found our way into a married student apartment on campus but had to leave soon because they don’t allow babies in the dorms. Jeff left the YMCA job, did some painting in between, and pursued a youth ministry position in a small town not far from Omaha.

We were familiar with this church and things were looking up.

Once again, we were offered a salary and benefits—such a good thing when you have a young family.

We moved into a small apartment in a typical Nebraska town with the Dairy Queen and Pizza Hut on the main drag. 

Jeff started his new job. On his first day, he was shown a list of people in the town to never speak to on condition of his employment. Apparently, there had been a church split we didn’t know about and wounds were still fresh. He came home kind of scratching his head about the list but whatever, I guess. I felt a little concerned because we didn’t know anyone in town. How would we know if we violated the list? I suppose we could always explain it was an accident……? I hoped….

By this time, we were both done with our Bible degrees. We thought we knew it all. (Haha!) It was not a joke at the time. But looking back, I can see some of the mistakes we made. I mean, we were taught that youth workers knew more than the parents. So, therefore, that’s the attitude we went in, neigh…JUMPED in with. We quickly—and I mean after one parent meeting—found out that this was perhaps not the best thing we learned in Bible college.

But things leveled out. In fact they went great! So great that the youth group doubled. We had parent volunteers begging to host small groups in their homes upon hearing how kids were clamoring to show up each week. Jeff started a discipleship group in our apartment. Kids were hungry to follow Jesus! It was exciting.

We also took a charter bus of the kids from eastern Nebraska all the way to a winter retreat in Colorado. Many had never been outside of the Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota triangular area. There was genuine desire to connect with God that weekend. Jeff also took a group of kids skiing while we were there. As you can imagine, so many had never even seen skis. I prayed that entire day that no one would break a leg. They all came back in one piece. Only incident that weekend? A cut toe from a kid jumping from the deck into snow in nothing but swim trunks. He had been in the hot tub moments prior. Kids…..sigh.

We came home from that trip on a high. Kids remained in the groups. Our adult volunteers were growing in all ways too.

We had been given a small budget that was tapped out by this time because of the growth. The kids had paid their own way on the retreat. But there was still a long way to go re: ministry that year. Many months to fill. At one point I calculated that we had $.80 per kid in the youth group for the rest of the year. Jeff couldn’t really even take kids to DQ for ice cream on that kind of money. To keep the momentum and simply have the basics we needed for teaching and leading, Jeff and I started using our personal credit cards to pay for things. We needed resources for ministry. We had none. 

I was volunteering my own time to do monthly newsletters. It was rough on our marriage, especially the one time I used the wrong, outdated address labels. (Oopsie….) And Jeff was told to never turn off his cell phone. There was no excuse to not be available 24/7. Jeff started to experience health issues from the stress. They felt like our families and kids to shepherd. We cared about them. But it was getting harder to sustain our current pace in many ways.

Because we cared about the youth group, Jeff sought to fight for them when the budget requests time came. He requested an admin for a few hours a week to do things like newsletters. Denied. He asked for more money for youth ministry in general. The entire church and community had noticed the growth. Still, the board said no.

The main reason? Kids and teens don’t generate revenue. The bulk of the money would go to media equipment in the main sanctuary. (Even though, that was where the bulk of the money went the previous year and there was already quite a set up going on in there.)

It was exhausting. We were tired. We didn’t see a way forward. And Jeff was beginning to wonder if pastoral work was his calling after all. We couldn’t live being ON 24/7. The doctor suggested he quit so he didn’t have a heart attack by the age of 35. 

Jeff decided to give it one more attempt to talk with the head of the elders to see if somehow we could get more support in ministry.

Final words: “Until you can prove to me how children and youth generate revenue, you can’t have another dime.”

Jeff came home. Walked to our calendar and circled a date for us to move to Colorado. He had been thinking of pursuing a Masters in Counseling. Being in church ministry was too hard. 

It was 2004, and we were done. 

A couple weeks before we left town, we got a strange phone call. It was an elder from the Baptist church telling us that Brother S had stolen money from the church. He shredded documents and threw the computer out the window. The church had no record of Jeff’s previous employment and they were trying to piece together old paperwork. 

The elder said, “We’re sorry, Jeff. We should have listened to you. You were right.”

I had always wondered what happened after we left that church and what happened to Brother S. I had still been concerned about his stalking, especially after we had Kyla. In fact, one day I went to our bank in Omaha and the teller I interacted with attended the Baptist church. I hid Kyla from the woman by tucking the baby carrier under the counter. I waited until she was distracted before I ran for the door.

While living in the small town, we had also still been receiving paper newsletters from the Baptist church. I wondered, How did he find us? It was several addresses later after all and more than two years later. I was convinced he was sending us a sign that he was “watching” us. I even kept an eye out for his unique truck. I do know the police were involved after his lovely tirade at the church. But I never heard if he went to jail.

At this point, we were even more ready for a new start. Stalking, computer tossing, and credit card use for Jesus would be over. And maybe Jeff could live beyond his mid-30s! We planned to never go back into pastoral ministry again.

Stalking, Computer Tossing, and Credit Cards for Jesus (Part 1)

The page on the job board promised a salary and a parsonage. It was a Baptist church not far away. We were engaged toward the end of college, and it seemed like a responsible thing to do—have a salary and home as part of the deal.

We met with the pastor—Brother S—for Jeff to talk with him about the youth ministry position. He was gregarious. Boisterous. Larger than life with his toothy grin. We could see the house across the street with the big, beautiful yard for barbeques with friends. It seemed like the right thing. It seemed like the right place. Before we headed off, the pastor opened his wallet and handed us some cash, telling us to go and get some dinner. Poor students. We were impressed by his generosity and headed off to find ourselves some Fazoli’s while we talked and dreamed of our future.

This was only the beginning. 

Oh that big, beautiful yard. What a headache. And the headache had a name. It was Larry. Larry was the groundskeeper of the church. He liked the lawn mowed a specific way and was also on Jeff for the smallest things. Sometimes we didn’t answer the door. That did not stop him from coming around the house poking around for something to add to his list of complaints. We quickly learned—no parsonage again. Ever.

And then there were the frequent drives to the electronics store. Brother S would recruit Jeff to help him in pick up random equipment. Expensive equipment. On the way, Brother S would stop across the street from random parishioner’s houses. He said he “just wanted to check on them.” But Jeff said it always felt weird. Like spying on them. Or stalking.

Brother S liked being in charge. He liked joking around with people in order to disarm them. Back then, he just seemed like a fun guy. But there were other little signs. Like the night his daughter ran over to the parsonage, screaming for help (they lived directly next to the church) and when we walked over with her, he grabbed her by the hair, yanked her in the house, and shut the door in our faces.

We were only 21. All we had known is that it’s not right to question our elders and so we didn’t, at least not on that occasion. Shook our heads and walked back home. But I will never forget that night. The horrified look on his daughter’s face. 

On another occasion, I was working evening VBS. Jeff was deathly sick (I ended up taking him to the ER that night). Brother S didn’t like that I brushed off a direct command he gave me in the sanctuary at the end of the evening. I don’t remember what it was but the way he addressed me was disrespectful and I wanted to leave to check on Jeff. I put both of my hands into a fist and walked out of the church. He bellowed, “Rebecca, don’t you dare walk away from me!” 

But I did. Looking back I’m proud of myself for leaving the building that night.

A few weeks later we got a call from our good friend who worked for the church. She had gone out of town and suddenly realized she couldn’t come back to the church. Not ever. She had been conned. Manipulated into activity she didn’t know was wrong. Until she was out of his grip. Away from his control over her.

Immediately, Jeff realized he could not stay either. If they stayed they might look like accomplices to suspicious endeavors led by Brother S. Jeff wrote a long, detailed letter to the elder board—a group of men the pastor had in his pocket OF COURSE. 

The elders denied all claims, refused to look into the accusations. Instead, Jeff had to quit. We were months away from our wedding. The only work Jeff could find was 10 hours a week at the YMCA. (I had to change jobs too during this time due to harassment in my workplace.) Jeff moved into an apartment with friends. They would see Brother S’s truck drive by frequently. It was unsettling. The month we got married, we were literally living on ramen noodles. We bought a giant case of them from the store. 

No salary. No home with a beautiful yard. No idea what we would do next. 

But I was proud of Jeff for standing up for the right thing. Also, I was a little scared of Brother Stan. 

And he would briefly find his way back into our lives, a couple years later…….