A Book of American Martyrs(27)
(I had not ever been able to call our pastor “Dennis” as he requested. For I did not feel as if we were [yet] equals.)
From the first sermon of Reverend Dennis which I’d heard, when Edna Mae had first brought me to the church, I had felt such awe and admiration for the young pastor, and such excitement in his presence, it came to seem that God had led me to him for a purpose; as God had led me to Edna Mae Reiser at a time in my life when I was hardly more than a brute creature, undeserving of spiritual happiness.
That had been a time of mortal danger, as well. The beating in the tavern lavatory, that might have ended in a man’s death, had made a powerful impression upon me.
God has spared you this time, Luther. But you are warned.
From that time onward I avoided my old friends. I had not invited them to my wedding for (as Edna Mae said) there would be no alcoholic drinks served at the reception, and my friends would not be happy if they could not drink.
After that we did not see one another again; and when the news came to me that our friend who had enlisted in the army had been killed in a helicopter accident while stationed in the Middle East, I felt a stab of horror and pity for him, and fell to my knees to pray for him. But I did not make any effort to contact his family, or our mutual friends.
For that had been my life of depravity and sin. My life was very different now. I did not drink more than two or three beers a week, and sometimes none at all. For Edna Mae did not drink, as most members of the St. Paul Missionary Church did not drink even carbonated beverages; and while my dear wife never expressed any evident disapproval of my drinking, I could sense that she felt unease at my behavior, and would keep the children away from me as if she feared I might injure them at such a time.
If I stooped to brush my lips against her cheek, Edna Mae might turn away, just slightly; as, in bed, if there was beer on my breath, Edna Mae would murmur sleepily Good night! and turn away from me.
If I were to touch her, to caress her soft, dense body, that had become softer and denser with pregnancies, Edna Mae would lie very still and unresisting; for a wife would never resist a husband, as Edna Mae knew. But she would not turn to me, in bed; she would not slip her arms around my neck in a girlish gesture of love, if there was but a trace of beer on my breath. That I respected my wife prevented me from turning her forcibly to me, which I would never do except if I was drunk, and I was never drunk any longer, at that time in our marriage.
The St. Paul Missionary Church of Jesus teaches the spiritual life which is a life of purity. You do not pollute your being with alcohol, carbonated beverages, cigarettes or any kind of tobacco, chewing gum, refined sugar, sugar substitutes, or foods known to be artificially colored. Gambling of any kind was forbidden including even such card games as gin rummy and the board game Monopoly. Church members were advised not to own television sets, to prevent their children from being corrupted. Christian radio stations were recommended. Most movies were not recommended. No form of contraception was recommended except abstinence.
(When I had first heard this word, I had not known its meaning! A very strange notion it seemed to me, if a man and a woman had become married, how or why should they practice abstinence? Abstaining from intercourse with a wife, with whom you slept in a bed each night, did not seem possible for a man with a man’s normal appetites.)
(At this time, I am not sure that I even knew the uglier word abortion.)
“And what about finances, Luther? Can you afford to stop working, to become a full-time student?”
“I was hoping there might be a scholarship . . . I was thinking of the Toledo School of Ministry.”
Reverend Dennis frowned at this remark. I had hoped that he might smile in recognition. But instead he spoke slowly, not meeting my eye, “Wel-ll, there are not many scholarships at Toledo, I’m afraid. Just a few, and they are usually given to younger men, just out of high school.”
I expected Reverend Dennis to say I was one of these, of course. Just out of high school. Scholarship.
As I had rehearsed, I said humbly that I had not really planned to be a full-time student. I would not be comfortable with not-working, as I had worked, in one way or another, since fourteen.
“Edna Mae and I have calculated that I can continue with my work in Muskegee Falls, about thirty hours a week, which would leave me time to commute to Toledo for my classes on two days, and would bring in enough income for us—for a while. And we have been trying to save, also.”
“But, Luther—what a grueling schedule! Most of the students at Toledo will be full-time, and they will live closer to the school. A few will have families, like you, but they probably won’t be working and commuting.”
“We have worked it out, Edna Mae and me. She is as hopeful that I can become a minister of the St. Paul Missionary Church as I am. And there is Jesus—I feel that He will help me, too.” Stubbornly I spoke, and would not give in.
“Well, Luther! I see that you are very serious. But you should know that the life of a pastor is not so easy, and it does not pay well. Probably less well, my friend, than your wages as a carpenter.”
This had not occurred to me. I had not thought about being paid to be a pastor like Reverend Dennis.
Seeing the look of confusion in my face Reverend Dennis said, “Come back and see me another time, Luther, after you have thought this through a little more. And give more thought to the practicality of your situation, with your young family . . .”