The Humper Game Pt. 07 Ch. 13

"So you are not disqualified on that basis—unless you wish to dispute our interpretation.

"In fact, we see only one specific, possible disqualification you haven't already raised. Peter wrote that elders—shepherds—should serve willingly, not under compulsion. We ask you to prayerfully consider whether you can carry out that instruction. Beyond that, if you wish, we can go through all the requirements in both 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1, one by one, with you now. We have already basically done that among ourselves, of course." He looked at me and waited a few moments, but I didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anything of that kind to raise that they didn't already know about.

He turned to Ellen. "Ellen, we have discussed you in these terms, too. I mean, the passage in 1 Timothy gives requirements for the wives of deacons—I know Phil, at least, is aware that there's been dispute about who is referred to there, but that's our understanding of it. We know that you have shown yourself to be serious and dignified, not given to slander, sober, faithful in all things. You have demonstrated a high degree of maturity in the Lord. You have already been a spiritual model for younger women, and some older ones too. If Phil becomes a deacon, he'll of course encounter confidential matters, and it's certain that you will become aware of some of them. We have seen that you don't gossip at all.

"You're not here because somehow you would share in the office of deacon, but because you need to know what we're asking of Phil, and we need you to raise any possible problems you see as well. And if you are set against this, we likely would regretfully decide that Phil is not qualified at present.

"Phil, was there anything else? Or Ellen, do you have anything to say?"

I felt resigned, to some degree, but I was also perplexed. I was sure that Robert did not approve of me, and I wondered again how things had gotten this far. But I didn't see any way to ask about that, without suggesting that they weren't capable of considering everything involved. I said, "Really, there are only two I can see that aren't already on the table. The first is just that I already feel overcommitted, and I don't see how I can take on more. And I'm kind of ashamed to bring that up, because several of you are much busier than I am."

There was some general laughter at that, and Pastor said, "We're aware of the problem, not specifically regarding you. It applies to almost everyone we ask to serve as deacon. We ask you to consider that matter very seriously, with prayer. We really mean what I said about being willing—saying that is not just a formality. And the other matter?"

"There's a good possibility that we won't be here longer than a couple of years or so more. There are complications I shouldn't go into, but I'm under consideration for a job far away from here. They've been, um, looking for me to develop more in some areas. Things might fall apart completely, but I don't expect that, and the time frame is a little bit vague. And they and we both would need to have some questions answered. But I owe it to you to mention it."

Pastor looked around, but nobody responded to this.

After a few moments, though, Ellen said, "I have two things to say. One's pretty straightforward. Phil really and truly thinks he isn't fit for this job, for the kinds of reasons he has raised. I think he's wrong, and you should know that. And I'm certainly not set against his serving this way—though I dread the time it will take him.

"The other thing, though, may throw the sabot into the gears, but you need to know it. And you should know that neither of us is happy about this. It may affect your consideration of Phil on doctrinal grounds. Several times now, I've—I don't know how else to say it—I've seen visions. The first involved something big and important, and I'm not going to go into details, but it showed Phil—and our children—and this was before we had even thought about marriage!—in a specific place at an indefinite time yet in the future, doing something important. Some limits on the time were evident from the apparent ages of our children, and it's a few years away, if it happens.

"What I saw relates to the possible job Phil mentioned. I should say that Phil had already been spoken to about that, when I had this vision, but I was completely unaware of it.

"The other visions mostly involved minor things. I saw two of our friends getting married, long before it happened, and their husbands are the men I saw—men whom I did not know at all, until much later. You can be sure I said nothing to our friends, to push them toward those men!

"Oh! And one more was minor, but important. I saw Phil being attacked by a man with a knife, and I didn't see how it came out, at all. We had seen a similar event, in high school, when someone attacked one of the instructors, who used some martial arts throw to defend himself. And I was scared enough by what I saw to push Phil to learn taekwondo or something similar.

"And then what I saw happened, exactly as I saw it, that very man accosted us and threatened us, and was going to take me off and rape me at knifepoint. Phil distracted him, and he attacked Phil, and Phil defended himself. Several of you heard about that event from us, at the time." She was having a little trouble speaking, at this point. "I've never been so scared in my life as I was then. I had seen this man holding a knife and following Phil, who was backing away, and then seen him lunge—and no more. I hadn't seen that I would be there, much less Avi. I hadn't seen Phil's response. But what I had seen was fulfilled exactly!

"Please understand, this isn't something I want or ask for! And for some of it, I see no reason I should have been shown it. Why would God need to show me our friend Sam marrying a man also named Sam, and totally happy about it? The first one, and maybe the one showing a specific man going after Phil with a knife, it might make sense that I needed to know, but not the others." Ellen was still clearly in distress, but I thought this wasn't a good time to hold her. I did take hold of her hand, and she squeezed mine hard. "I guess the only other thing to say is that everything I've seen has come true, up to the present time. Oh, and that by this time I don't have much doubt that this is all guidance given by God to help us prepare for something—and I'm pretty sure Phil agrees—but we're trying to take things one step at a time and be wise in what we do."

I put in, "For instance, I didn't lose anything except some time by doing taekwondo, and it's good conditioning besides, if the attack Ellen saw had never come. In the same way, if I'm offered this job, I would be pretty inclined to accept it for other reasons anyway, and in any case we would try to make sure we understand what it requires before accepting."

After a moment, Pastor Fox said, "Thank you both for what you've brought up. We'll have to discuss them further. But Phil, for something as indefinite as your plans for being here, I doubt it will make much practical difference. If it were, 'I'm here for a year of schooling, and then I have to return to my job in Liverpool,' that would be different." There were laughs from three or four of the deacons, and I thought I knew why. I was pretty sure I knew whom Pastor had been thinking of, and I agreed he had looked like deacon material. Pastor went on, "If it seems likely that you can serve one full term, that's enough."

We were thanked and hugged, and we left the meeting and went home, and relieved Julie of responsibility for the kids. Bella and Peter were asleep, and Avi was being read to—David and Goliath, his current favorite. Julie was wonderful with our kids, and plainly liked them a lot. As a sitter, she was worth a lot more to us than she asked for. I hoped we could find someone as good in a couple of years, when she went to college or found a real job. If we were still there ourselves, of course!

To wrap this up: Ellen and I talked about it and prayed quite a bit. We decided that, if they wanted me in spite of everything, I wouldn't say no. That is, I decided this, but Ellen was more confident of that decision than I was. This felt to me a lot like our agreement before our first discussion with Pastor Mac, when I said I thought we should agree to stop having sex until the wedding, if he required it. This time, though, it seemed to me really, really unlikely to actually come to pass. I notified Pastor Fox, leaving it to him to notify the deacons.

So in a month we were back on their agenda—again, probably the most time-consuming item. In the meantime, the congregation had been asked to provide any input they might have. This was always done, when the deacons agreed that a man might be suitable, so that the final decision was made with that input available. Early in that month, in the morning worship service, Ellen and I both gave our testimonies to the congregation.

So we met with the pastor and deacons again. Pastor told us the main thing, at the end of that meeting: If I were willing, they would put it to a vote of the congregation. It seemed that even after everything I said, a consensus was present that I was worth pursuing in this. They did so, and I was accepted.

There was one thing at that second meeting that was a big surprise to me. Robert Jones stood up to say something. He said, "Phil, you know I don't much like you. But I know, and we all agree firmly, that a purely personal liking or disliking of someone doesn't mean a thing, or shouldn't, in this discussion.

"I was also concerned about things you had said in the past. The biggest thing is that I was afraid that you would try to turn this into a charismatic church. All your answers made plain that you won't do anything of the kind. Even what Ellen said about these visions. It seems plain enough that you aren't offering these as commands from the Lord, which must be obeyed, but as something that must be examined, on a case by case basis, and that you aren't seeking supernatural guidance as a replacement for scripture and for ordinary prudence.

"I want you to know that I'm behind you as much as any of us. I myself wouldn't have suggested you for this position to begin with, but I'm quite satisfied with the results of all our discussion." He sat down again.

I said, "May I say something in response?" When told to go ahead, I said, "I really have two things to say to that. First, there are reasons, important ones, we are in this church and not some other kind of church. You should keep that in mind.

"But the big thing is this. If I were in a church that somehow abandoned the central elements of the gospel, I would almost certainly just leave. I would say why first, but I don't think I would try to fight a whole congregation.

"But in any Bible-believing church, clear on the gospel, I would be hard put to imagine taking part in any attempt to radically change that church—even if I agreed on the issues being raised. The church—the assembly, not the building—the church is God's temple, and trying to make that kind of change destroys the church. I'm appalled when I hear people talk about needing to accept the loss of some large percentage of a congregation, to 'turn' it for some purpose or other, even when I think the purpose is good. It's the Lord's church, not ours, and we have no right to attack people and drive them away like that. It's entirely contrary to the Lord's commands about how we're to treat our brothers.

"I hope that if there were any lingering doubts on that account, in anyone's mind, that resolves them."

So at the end of the next Sunday service, my nomination was formally put to the congregation for a vote, and I was accepted. The following week, they laid hands on me and commissioned me and prayed for me. This was a very moving experience for me. As they prayed, some of what they asked for—on my behalf—surprised me. They prayed about doubts and reservations I hadn't mentioned to them, or to anyone—except in a couple of cases to Ellen.

And so from then until the time we left, I served as a deacon, with responsibilities centered on pastoral rather than administrative matters. This meant I had to get to know people I would have been on a greet-on-Sunday-morning basis with at best, to listen to their problems and joys and provide some counsel. I also was soon asked to take over teaching a Sunday School class. Fortunately, it was the class we had been part of, and I knew what had been discussed there for some years, and the class knew me. So I was even busier than ever.

Sometimes all this also meant that I had to point out to people that their lives—their conduct—in some serious respect ran contrary to biblical teaching. I always hated doing that, which may mean that I really was unsuited to the position I was in. On the other hand, most jobs have parts that are uncomfortable or distasteful to do. On the occasions when what I said produced positive results, I experienced great joy, and I thought those I was working with usually did as well.

One other result of this was that something Ellen had been predicting for years came to be. In one way or another, this took enough time that she simply had to take on most of the cooking! I couldn't even be much help. I was in meetings, or talking to people, or reading materials—or concentrating in preparation for one or more of those. I was pretty sure this wasn't what she had seen, not yet, but it certainly began with this. We worked hard to make time to be together, especially time for conversation, and time for me to be with the kids, too, but from this point all that was an ongoing struggle.

Not too long after it was decided, I called Pastor Mac, just to mention it to him. He had been expecting it, more than I would have in his place, but of course he and Pastor Fox had apparently talked at quite some length. He might have known more about the situation than I had in the beginning. We had a very enjoyable conversation, in any case, touching base on a lot of things, and he sure encouraged me quite strongly.

The real surprise came when I called Uncle John and Aunt Sally to tell them. I knew that they would be interested, of course. Almost the first thing Uncle John said was, "I wondered how long it would be before you were tapped for that." As I said, I was surprised. "Flabbergasted" might be a better word. I said so, and went through some of the same reasons I had with the deacons as to why I thought it was a bad idea—and of course they already had a much more thorough knowledge of my sexual misbehavior. Some of it had been under their roof, after all.

They both laughed at me! Uncle John—well, both of them together, in a kind of antiphonal chorus—said some of the same things Ellen had, and Pastor Fox too. But Uncle John actually brought in Sam as example of my being called to this, right up with my teaching Kelly! He said, very seriously, "Yes, there were sexual issues, Phil. And you were already dealing with them, plainly enough that your commitment to Ellen was no surprise at all, once we knew enough. But you shepherded Sam through all kinds of potential problems, so she came out of it a stable, well-balanced, moral young woman. And godly, in the end. The Lord is the one who chooses and directs, but you were his chosen instrument in this, and I could see that before those two weeks were over." What was I supposed to say to that?

A surprising result of my being a deacon—at least, I was surprised—was the change in Robert's attitude toward me, and I guess mine toward him. We had, from the first, kind of rubbed each other the wrong way, really nothing more than different personality types as far as that went. But contributing to that—or maybe resulting from it, or both—we had each had reservations about each other's spirituality and doctrinal views. He was concerned that I was, oh, something like a closet charismatic, with an agenda to change the church—a loose cannon, unpredictable and dangerous. To my ears, some of the things I'd heard him say had seemed glib and simplistic, grabbing verses out of context as proof texts, and I'd seen him as unreasonably suspicious of all other approaches to faith than the one he'd known all his life.

But somehow, as we served together—sometimes literally, and sometimes just participating in meetings together—we both found more basis for mutual respect. And this blossomed into real friendship, as well. I was moved by this, when I began to notice it.

In fact, it rather reminded me of the change in my feelings about Helen Iliothi—now Helen Dandy—beginning shortly before our wedding.

I was touched at one more thing. Several friends came to this service, people I definitely had never expected to see there. A number of them were my coworkers and Ellen's. Ellen had mentioned what was happening to her own coworkers, and some had passed the news, it seemed. As for mine, well, I had mentioned it to Giuseppe and Maria. Of course I had—to get any help from language conversation partners, you have to converse, after all. And Maria had passed the word, and when she and Giuseppe decided to attend, she kind of organized a group.

Unsurprisingly, Giuseppe and Maria weren't familiar with Baptist church organization, so on a later occasion we discussed the different understandings of the term "deacon." An interesting conversation, that one. My ability to use Italian had grown a lot, but on this topic I was kind of over my head.

And finally, I learned one more new thing as a result.

We had told Sam and Jenny both about this, when we next called each of them to talk. Ditto for Mom and Dad—actually, they heard before the second meeting. But we also called Aunt Betty just to tell her about this, knowing she and the others would be interested and pleased. And it shouldn't have surprised me at all that Aunt Betty's response was to have us over, along with all the others—uncles and aunts, and a few cousins too—for a little celebratory—or congratulatory—party. It did surprise me, for some reason, but not too much. Mom and Dad even came, too. Dad's coming was a much bigger surprise.

They really were all pleased—whether of this as an achievement of sorts, or because they already felt I was suited in gifts and character, was never really clear to me, but they were. Maybe both of those, among all of them.

At some point, though, I said, "I didn't think of it at the time, of course, it never occurred to me. But looking back, I can't imagine why Granddad wasn't a deacon, when I was growing up."

Uncle Joe was the one who answered me. "Phil, he had served as a deacon, before you were born. At least three terms that I knew of, and maybe more before those. I think if he'd served later, even after I wasn't at home, I would have heard of it, probably from Mom. And you're right, if anyone was ever called to that office, Dad was.

"But at the end of the time I knew about, there were problems. Well, they had a new pastor, and a couple of deacons who agreed with him, and they felt that it was really important that all the deacons be required to agree about pretty much everything. Not just doctrine—they wanted a complete uniformity of opinion on all matters of interpretation, and other things too. And Dad wouldn't go along just for the sake of that kind of united front.

"There were a whole lot of lesser issues. Let's see. One was that they insisted that it had never rained from creation to the time of Noah. And he said that might be, but they were arguing only from the fact that at the time of the Garden there was no rainfall, and that then rain was never mentioned until the flood. That kind of thing.