Explaining

There were many unwritten “rules” that we followed in this thing we called a religion.  We did not swear.  We did not divorce and if we did, we most certainly never remarried.  That would be a sin and we would be damned to hell no matter what we did if we were to do this.  Once a person was remarried they were no longer allowed to “take part” or be a part of this way of God.  They could show up and listen, but they were not a member of the congregation. 

If you were divorced, and chose to remarry, you were ostracized by your fellow members.  The best way I can describe it is like being shunned.  Your family could still have lunch with you and see you, but any person outside your family having any kind of contact was seen as someone taking pity upon you and/or possibly trying to show you your sins and bring you back to the way of God. 

If you had ever “professed”, “taken part” in a Sunday morning meeting, stood to your feet and exclaimed to the friends that you were a true believer and you claimed this way as your own, you were never allowed to break that rule.  There was one small loop-hole though.  If your ex-spouse was to ever die, you were free to remarry.  Can you imagine the feelings this raised within the hearts of those who were “kicked out” simply because they chose to not remain alone for the rest of their life?

I remember a young man who had gone to meetings most of his life.  I will call him Steve.  He married a young “worldly” girl and they had a child but were no longer attending meetings.  After a few years of marriage, the young wife divorced Steve and he eventually remarried.  He brought his new wife to meetings and they both professed.  They stood to their feet and claimed this one true way as the way of God and professed before all there that they chose to follow this way for the rest of their lives.  They were allowed because after all, Steve had never “professed” before.  Try to be a young child understanding this.  If it’s confusing to you, it was even more so to me.

I often found myself having to explain my life and religion to others.  I grew up most of my youngest years without a television and we were not allowed to go to the movies.  I didn’t have a radio that played any music, just static.  My father, who was no longer professing, had a small television that he would take out of the closet to watch his football games on the weekend. My mother would not allow it in the living room.  We were occasionally allowed to watch Mutual of Omaha’s “Wild Kingdom” and unbeknownst to my mother, sometimes snuck in an episode of “Dukes of Hazard” or “Lawrence Welk”.  Those things were viewed as “worldly” and were only filled with things of this earth.  We kept this a secret from the friends and never spoke of it to others. 

 My hair was long, but not as long as the others.  I didn’t quite fit in with “the world” nor did I quite fit in with the girls in “the truth”.  We wore no make-up and no jewelry.  A watch was acceptable as was a wedding band, but a watch was seen as a tool and as long as it was rather plain, it was tolerable.  A wedding band was the outward symbol to others that you were married and had chosen a spouse for life. 

We did not smoke or consume alcohol at all.  I remember hearing of a professing couple out for dinner one night that had a glass of wine with their meal.  I knew of this because someone spoke of it to the workers and it was mentioned in a Sunday evening gospel meeting.  The couple’s name was not mentioned, but whoever they were, they got the hint.

 I knew little to nothing of current events and we had no magazines other than National Geographic in our home.  My parents spoke nothing of politics and we were uneducated about voting rights, political parties or any world issues.  We did not know anything about professional sports and had no way to follow them if we had known.  I used to hate it when children would talk about the newest song or music group or video that was out.  I knew nothing of these and just smiled and nodded and acted like I had seen it or heard it or knew the words. 

The girls in “the truth” who were “professing” only wore dresses.  These dresses were usually rather plain but not as simple as those worn by the Amish or Quaker’s.  I remember wearing pants every once in a while, but that was half-heartedly accepted by others in “the truth” because after all, I was from a divided home.  You see, I didn’t have a good example at home and you couldn’t expect me to hold the standard as high as I should.

I apologize again for any confusion this is causing, but imagine having to live it and trying to explain this way of life to others.  Our church had no name.  We didn’t actually call it a church.  The workers said that a church was a building and we didn’t have one.  We met in homes or tents on someone’s property and occasionally rented out a large room or hall at a school or public building for larger gatherings. 

We simply referred to ourselves as “friends”.  We called this thing we belonged to by many names and yet owned none of them.  Often I have heard it referred to as “the two by two’s” or “the way”, “the truth” or “the friend’s church”.  I do not capitalize them here as they are not considered by me even today as a name.  We didn’t have one.  I told my school friends that our religion was nondenominational and we were Christian, but had no name.  I think this just confused them more.

We considered our ministry “unpaid” but the ministers had more cash in their pockets than my parents; however, they held no bank account and paid no taxes.  Each ministry team would go forth as a same sex pair to preach and leave all worldly possessions behind.  They gave up everything they ever had to preach the word of God.  They lived with us in our homes and did not have a home of their own.  It was considered a privilege to have them remain in your home for more than a night or two.  I remember the workers staying in homes around us and near us, but since our home was “divided” they would not remain in our home overnight.  My father was never cruel or mean to them.  They were just not invited.

I never knew how they paid for their gas or bought their clothes, which were always nicer than my mother’s, until one day as I was leaving the Sunday night gospel meeting I saw the man behind me hand an envelope to the elder of the two workers.  It was not closed all the way and I saw inside the green of money.  I was confused at this as a child, but came to realize that it was how they were helped.  We never called it “paid”.  We called it “helped”. 

There was no collection during the services, ever.  I mean, ever.  To an “outsider” this would appear to be a completely “unpaid” ministry.  That is obviously unrealistic in this day and age as they had to buy their gas and purchase their clothing somehow.  I found out when I was a bit older that they only accepted “help” from those who were professing.  Those who were “of the world” or just visitors to our meetings were never allowed to financially contribute.