Monday, April 8, 2019

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…….

No comments: