An awkward silence hovered over the West Middleton Community Church. Sides drawn, sharp eyes that pierced into one another like swords drawn on a Civil War battlefield, and pure hate described this church business meeting. Church business meetings generally don’t go smoothly in any Midwest setting, but to say this wasn’t going well was an understatement. No one took leadership. Everyone took leadership.
Pastor Sorenson had no idea what was happening. He did notice however, that the atmosphere was strange and a bit chaotic this evening. As the meeting began, a short, chunky man named Wally walked to the center stage.
“Thank you for coming tonight to our business meeting. As many of you were notified, we have some extremely important business to take care of.” This perked Sorenson’s ears up as he had not authorized any business meeting. He looked startled as Wally continued. “There have been some. . . accusations made against Pastor Sorenson, and we’re going to address them immediately.” Pastor Sorenson’s eyes grew big. What the …? Was the first thought that came to his mind . . .then . . . Was this why his church had sent him and his wife on vacation? Was this why hate and bitterness crowd the faces of the church tonight? Why is Wally doing this?
Pastor Wally continued, “Right now Mrs. Craig, if you will come to the front and speak?
The audiences eyes glared toward the front as Ms. Ann Craig, the present church secretary, stood proudly and walked to the front. It appeared she enjoyed the spotlight a bit too much. Ms. Craig was only the second secretary to fill the position in the last 25 years, and her mother Louise held the office before that.
She spoke forcefully and with a purpose. “My friends at West Middleton Community Church, I have been the secretary of this great church for 12 years now, and my mother before me. Many of you knew my mother, Louise Craig to be a wonderful, devout woman of faith. I too knew her to be that. She died at a relatively early age, but before she did, I specifically remember one thing she shared with me after she worked with our pastor for many years.” She turned and looked coldly into the eyes of Sorenson. Hatred reflected off their eyes like a never-ending game of ping-pong.
“She told me to beware of pastor Sorenson because he was not a man of integrity and he was not the man we all thought he was. I was quick to dismiss her remarks as those of a sick woman.” Ann’s eyes began to water.
“But now I know that she was right.” Tears flowed around the room at this point, and everyone hung on to her every word. Pastor Sorenson sat helpless, fending off the ugly stares that came his way by the scores. His wife attempted to stay strong, but as Ms. Craig’s next words came out, failed miserably.
“As most of you know, there is a young lady that lives here in the church apartment. Her name is Erica Blanchard. It is not uncommon for our Pastor Sorenson to refer to her as ‘his daughter.’ But I have here his cell phone records with no less than 100 calls made to her number last month. Tell me Pastor Sorenson, how many fathers do you know that continue to call their 25 year old daughters more than 100 times in a month, when they live only a block away.”
More tears. More stares. More confusion.
Erica Blanchard sat in the center of the sanctuary weeping. Her dirty blonde hair, small hands, and torn Bible hid her face from everyone. She was well-liked around the church, always giving of her time and talents, and in one moment, one accusation, everyone ‘knew’ why she was giving so much. Ms. Craig continued to throw the darts.
“Last month, as I began to have these suspicions, I drove to the church each night. I couldn’t believe what I found. 27 days! 27 days this month!” She repeated for emphasis. “Our pastor Sorenson stayed at the church past 9:00 in the evening.”
Horrified gasps could be heard across the sanctuary, and Pastor Wally stood on the back of the stage with a frown on his face and a smile in his heart. The people would know who to come to. Then the fireworks started.
Sister Martha Saklon stood, pointed her crooked finger at Sorenson and began the screaming, “How could you do this to us?! We loved you and thought you were a godly man! How could you do this to us?!”
Agreements were scattered around the room when Fred Johnson shouted from the sound booth, “You dirty womanizer!”
Then Barry Graystone stood from the front and scolded back, “How could any of YOU even consider responding to these accusations like this? You haven’t heard him answer these charges yet! As far as we know, Ms. Craig could be lying through her teeth. I don’t trust her anyways.”
From then on it was chaos. A bitter division had taken place and members were finding their sides quickly. Pastor Wally, who quietly enjoyed what was happening, decided to take control. “Ladies, gentlemen, please calm down. Please sit down. Martha, Joan, would you please take a seat? Now I understand that this is not an easy subject in which to think and behave rationally, but we must take this opportunity to show the world that we as believers can settle our differences without hate and prejudice.”
Pastor Wally savored all the looks on their faces as they intently looked at him now as their shepherd, the man in charge. “God has a purpose and a plan for the church, and no one person or situation will cause His plan to swerve. His plan is perfect.”
The accusations and the confusion went on for hours as friends and family became enemies. Pastor Wally decided he had enough entertainment and brought things to order once more. He then announced that a vote would take place after Pastor Sorenson shared his heart. The vote would answer the question whether or not Pastor Sorenson would continue to be the pastor of their church. Finally, it was Pastor Sorenson’s turn to speak. The crowd eyed him accusingly and lovingly, depending on which side of the church they sat. Unfortunately, as it stood, 80% of the church sat on the side that wanted Sorenson out, never to return.
He walked slowly and cautiously to the front, sweat soaking his balding head, sadness overwhelming his spirit, and pressure from one side to confess and hope on the other side to deny. His words began slowly, then defensively, then attackingly.
“My friends, I’ve been having some problems lately. I’ve been struggling with doubt and a sense of depression. Perhaps fear that I was not doing our congregation here at West Middleton justice? Maybe that I was not being the right kind of pastor? I guess you could say that I had some serious self-esteem issues.
“As you can probably imagine, sharing this with too many people in your congregation, especially a congregation such as this, with some who believe themselves to be as close to God as the angels above, can be a bit frightening. So this compounded the fear I already was experiencing.
But this ‘scary’ controversy only brings me more to the great realization that none of us can live without God, even though many times this is what we attempt. Can you imagine? We try to live without the power of God in our lives, and when we do we end up feeling down and discouraged, or that we just cannot do the job God has put us here to do. And then we begin to pass judgment on those who may be jealous of or those whom you want revenge against.”
Pastor Sorenson turned and glared at Pastor Wally and his former secretary who seemed somewhat offended at his last comment.
“I feel somewhat hurt . . .and angered that many of you listened to these accusations and never once came to me. I guess it is human nature though, to turn from God and to follow your flesh. To turn from doing what’s right and listen to gossip and hate.
To get to the point though-to answer what you’ve all come here for-to finally get down to business, I have never had any type of inappropriate relationship with Erica Blanchard. She has indeed always been like a daughter to me, and always will be, but on either side, and she will attest to this, there has never been any type of inappropriate behavior between us. And that is that.
“Ms. Craig prides herself in her meddling, and what she has allegedly come up with is a relationship that she wishes her daughter had with me-a loving, father-daughter relationship. Ms. Craig would presume you to believe that there is more, because she has lived her own life in a great soap opera. But many of you have listened, and will continue to listen, because you live in the same fairy tale that she does.
“I love Erica Blanchard-as a daughter and as a child of God-nothing more.”
A great hush overwhelmed the crowd as both shame and confusion stood like cemented poles in a windstorm.
Slowly Pastor Wally stood to his feet and walked past Sorenson on the stage.
“Well, as announced, we will now take the vote. Ushers, if you could move to the front pews, gather the blank paper sheets, and pass them around. Each of you will take the paper, write “yes” if you believe Pastor Sorenson should continue his pastoral duties here at West Middleton and write “no” if you do not believe that is possible. You may . . .”
“Hold up there Wally!” Barry Graystone interrupted, much to Pastor Wally’s dismay. The two had gone through more than than their share of disagreements, and only one of them was Graystone’s failure to call him by his “proper title.”
Graystone continued. “I’ve had enough of this “pious smut” from you people.” Heads turned quickly at the rising tone of his voice.” We are in a church, and you can’t find time before something like this, as ludicrous as it is, to offer up a prayer to the Lord?”
Pastor Wally stood speechless.
“Well, if you won’t, I will.”
The thought of being caught “less spiritual” than a parishioner frightened Wally, so he acknowledged his fault and began to “call out to God.”
They took the vote. 60% to 40% in favor of keeping Pastor Sorenson as their pastor. His speech . . .or God, certainly changed many hearts that evening, and as people began to slowly shuffle out, his supporters flocked around him in love. The other 40% probably drove home and walked to the yellow pages, opening the large info book straight up to the heading, “Churches.”
