The American Spectator

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The Nation's Pulse

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"IF YOU WROTE THIS DOWN LIKE A STORY, no one would believe it," one of our congregants said to Sally and me when she came to dinner last week. Well, believe it. It does not appear that our preacher will ever get his job back, because it appears that his wife does not want to be married to a preacher anymore, and that she's done with the whole long life journey they had undertaken together. To be fair, our preacher may have to realize that he is not the same man anymore, either.

People at church have reacted in different ways. For several Sundays, attendance fell notably. Lately, people have started coming back. At first, the elders took turns preaching, and, to put it kindly, some of them are not really preachers, no matter how great their faith or their sincerity. Lately, and ironically, the preaching assignments have settled on our pastor's son, who is good at the job, and who has explored the Christian and emotional issues behind this tragic fall unstintingly and courageously.

Among the many things we have found out is that our preacher had no real friends among the congregation. The elders had, in fact, walled him off. It took me some real effort to get his phone number. I may be the only member of the congregation who has communicated with him, outside the channels of the deacons and elders. And his wife has disappeared entirely, in terms of church association.

For my part, I have stayed away from church since then. I'm sure I will go back. All the people have been very good to me, and my core faith remains undisturbed. But it was my friend who fell. It was my friend who lost his life's work. It was my friend who got hurt. And for now, I just want to be his friend.

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