“I was shocked,” said Calvin Lane, though as he spoke I sensed his shock had turned to bitterness. “My uncle was a deacon in the church, but the first time I accompanied him to the company convention, he led the way in painting the town.”
In the course of five years, Calvin had come to wonder whether a commitment to the Lord actually meant anything. The inconsistencies he observed made him wonder. [Read more…]
In the days following Harry Chase’s fatal heart attack, many of the 5,000 people of Arlington were saying that Sybil, his wife, would get along all right. She was resourceful, attractive and well liked. And Harry, a leading figure in Arlington’s business community, had undoubtedly made adequate financial provision for her and their three young children.
A woman in great distress, seeking peace for her soul, told me her story. When she was twelve years old, her mother left her father for another man. Her father was an irresponsible drunkard.
Annebel was pathetic, depressed, on the edge of tears, overwrought. She had seen several psychologists, a psychiatrist, several pastors, and a famous evangelist. No one could help. Her condition was the result of a great tragedy, which was told to me by a friend who spoke for Annebel.
Amy was a widow–the consequence of a motorcycle accident. Her husband was killed instantly. It happened two years earlier, and she continued to grieve over the loss of her husband. He was fun-loving and outgoing. She missed his friendly, cheerful presence. She always looked forward to his coming home. They were best friends. There were no children. She now lives alone in the house they were buying. She works in the church office and loves her job. When the church doors are open, she is always there. But going home is hard and lonely. Some friends have suggested that she move out of the house and live somewhere else. Her house holds too many memories.