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Chapter 5

Monday, December 12.

            Cold again last night, but the bed is warm and comfortable. 

            Something very astounding has happened this morning.  I can hardly believe the alacrity to which God works.  As usual, Dave waited until everyone was quietly seated at the breakfast tables.  He had a few items in front of him  which he put at the forefront of his morning briefing.  Dave puffed himself up and put on a serious face.  He then leaned back in his seat and picked up the objects.

            “Yesterday someone found these pages from a library book in a trash can and brought them to my attention.  This book had been put back on the shelf with the pages torn from the front.  Does anyone have anything to say about this?” Dave demanded.  After a pause, “No one?”

            Just then, John resoundingly replied, “I know of it.”

            “What about it Brother John?” said Dave.

            “I tore the pages out of the book,” John admitted.

            A hush fell over the Hall.  Only the sounds of the Overcomer Broadcast broke the silence while Dave leaned foreword and cocked his head sideways toward John.  His lips closed tightly into a mad grin.  Most people were looking down at their hands, but I was amazed at what was unfolding before me.  I watched Dave’s movements carefully.

            “Why Brother?” Dave gasped.

            “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” John said quickly trying to end it.

            “Why?!”

            “Does it matter now?  It’s done and I’m sorry about it.”  John was definitely showing no fear of Dave in his answers.  Dave became more adamant.

            “I just want to know what would posses you to make such a decision.  We don’t just tear pages out of books around here.”  Dave held the book up and turned it around in the air in front of his face.  He mentioned the title, but I don’t remember it.  “Judging from the title I can see that there are probably things in here that you don’t agree with Brother John.  But you don’t just decide to do your own thing and do that.  It’s not right.  I think the group deserves an explanation.  Why?”

            “And again I say, it doesn’t matter why.  I’ve got nothing to say.  I messed up, and I’m sorry,” John said straightly.

            Dave scanned the humble group, “From now on when you decide, any of you decide, to act on your own and do something like this, you come and see an elder brother first.  This material is put into the library for everyone to read.  You may not agree with it, but it has a purpose.  Amen Brother John?”

            “So be it,” said John quietly.

            “Did you hear me?”

            “I said so be it.”

            “Amen Brother John?!”

            “I said so be it, that is what amen means, so be it!” John repeated.

            “Now Brother John, you belong here, and as far as I’m concerned this matter has been addressed.  So we won’t bring it up again.  We’ve got a good sunny day today, so lets make the best of it.  Brother John, you say the prayer.”

            (I was later to learn that John had torn the book a week before I arrived here.  He was going to burn the book and the pages but forgot to. I have received the sign I prayed for.  It was the very situation I talked with John about last night )

2

            After breakfast Dave sent me and many other guys with Wayne to the grain barn.  John was sent on his way to finish his job painting the outhouse located near Fellowship Hall.  (Called an outhouse, but really a full sized men and women’s shower.)  Also, Marc did not come with us.  So all the available men went with us.  Our task at the grain barn was to move a full sized truck load of corn from the trailer up into the loft.  At last, I was going to do some farm work.

            We carried the grain elevator, which Mike and Dennis were working on when I first arrived, from the shop to the barn and hung it in the loft.  If it had worked, a lot of work would have been saved.  But the electric motor which was burned out a few days ago was still burned out today, so we put the elevator aside and unloaded the trailer by hand.  It is very hard work because we had to lift large buckets of corn up, and the construction of the barn made for some obstacles.  I tried to continuously be in a position where I could work hard and not stand watching.  For my size, I’m strong.  But I was no match for the strengths of the black men like Dennis, Enoch, Ben or Wayne.  Doug is a pretty tough bloke as well, so maintaining a tough position was hard with people always wanting to rotate in. 

            Getting back to Marc.  He has a gentleman’s nature, always dresses in nice clothes, and I haven’t seen him yet work outside.  I’m wondering if all is well with him.  He’s a healthy size white man near 35 years old, and about 185#.  He grows his blond beard and mustache, but his head is bald on top.  His face is round and smooth, not the look of a deep thinker or worrier.  The mornings are cold, and he likes sipping hot chocolate.  He doesn’t sit like a normal man when he sips on it while relaxing in a chair.  He sits gently with his legs crossed, but not in a feminine manner.  He is still quite masculine.  Yesterday he shared his recollections with me revealing that he’s been here five years or so, but his stories were incomplete as if holding a train of thought is difficult.  I am worried that something is amiss with his health that is going undetected.  He is somewhat slow, but yet not totally lost.

            We finished unloading corn within an hour and the men split up to do their pre-assigned tasks around the farm.  I was sent with Dennis, Jacob and Timothy into the forest at the edge of the mobile home camp where a small blue house was being prepared for Ralph Stair and his family is to eventually live.  It’s a nice little house, but it has no kitchen.  It is referred to as the “old house”.  Mounted atop the house is another loud speaker putting forth the Overcomer Broadcast so it will not be missed here either.  Our task is to finish trenching from the loop road, where an electrical service box is, to the house, and install a wire.  I was glad to be involved with this project, because I have done this work on a grand scale when I worked for my brother-in-law’s underground construction business in San Diego.  Dennis was in charge of the project and had started it last week, so the trench was close to being complete.

            Because I know trenching for electrical, I expected to see the usual things happening and the usual parts on hand.  But all the important things were not present, especially the right sized wire and electrical conduit.  With the wet climate, these were obvious necessities.  Asking Dennis about what was happening invoked a hostile display of frustration in him.

            Dennis is a good sized black man who is married and has a little boy.  His family lives in a mobile home by themselves in the middle of the camp. He is near 6’ 2’’ tall, 200#, has a nice round clean shaven face, groomed hair, and beautiful blue eyes.  His eyes are his most striking feature.  Dennis has formal training in electrical work, which is probably why he was told to do this job.  But he was told to do it Dave’s way, and not the right way, which frustrates him to no end.  Dennis’ revealed his distaste for dictatorial rule in a round about way.

            “Brother Mark, we’re putting in an electrical line to Brother Stair’s house.  The trench is half done.  Too bad you weren’t here last week when we dug the first part.  It was hard,” Dennis said while handing out picks and shovels. 

            “Where do you have the p. v. c. to put the wire into so we can start laying it out?” I asked looking round about. 

            “Brother Mark, that stuff ain’t going to work around here, all your suggestions and questions.  I’m telling you right now that if you want to make it here, you gotta keep quiet and do what you are told.  You may know what you’re talking about, but Dave don’t care.  You could be the President, but Dave don’t care.  I know there’s got to be p. v. c. , and I know what else you’re thinking.  But you ain’t supposed to think.  And I know that’s the wrong kind of wire too.  I told him that I went to school for this stuff, and that his way was wrong.  Dave wants 30 Amps. through a 25 Amp wire, he wants me to cut a branch splice in it for over there instead of a parallel wire, and it’s wrong and dangerous.  It’s stupid man.  But that’s it.  The Bible says obey them that are over you.

            “You know in a splice you get a big drop in your usable amps.  He wants 30 Amps. through this with a splice!   But Dave is right.  He is always right.  I tell you this; if it screws up, it won’t be on my head, but on him because it’s his way.  I do as I’m told.  So you just keep quiet Brother Mark, and stop bucking against the pricks” (in reference to what Jesus said to Saul). Was Dennis being literal?  Giving me all that grief for just a normal question is another eye opener.

            These people have sold out to serfdom and are not happy about it.   Dennis, an intelligent man, gives up the knowledge given to him by God, to please Dave.  And Dave asked Dennis the electrician to do a job, but then tells him he can’t do it right.  Dennis could have been more adamant with him, but knowing Dave the tyrant, I guess not. 

            We worked on the trench, listened to the Broadcast, and talked.  Dennis is uneasy around me because I have a strong freedom loving spirit.  He made it apparent because every time I made a comment, he would turn to Tim and say, “Ha ha did you hear what he said Brother Tim, he said...” mocking me.  They got to asking me accusing questions to trap my words, so I just stopped talking for a time.

            Tim is a tall strong white fellow with thick dark hair on his face and head.  He’s 29 years old, 6’ 5’’ and 200#.  He doesn’t seem to be too smart or learned, but he is a nice guy.  He is easily influenced by his good buddy Dennis to poke fun at me.  Timothy came here with his brother, but his brother thought this place was evil and left while Tim stayed.  His brother it seems wants to do his own thing, and it didn’t work well here.

            Then Dennis asked, “You know I got a feeling about you Brother Mark.  Are you a preacher?  You sure you ain’t tried preaching somewhere before and got rejected?  You think you’re a preacher when it’s not your calling?”

            “You’re doing all the Bible verses and preaching Dennis.  I ain’t never preached before to people.  Some suggested I should.  But you’re right, it may not be my calling,” I responded. 

            “Are you sure?” Tim asked, “you sound like some sort of a preacher Brother.”

            “You’re doing all the story telling and parroting of Brother Stair.  Do you ever listen to anyone else anymore but Brother Stair?” I asked.

            They gave me a list of the preachers they know but then added, “but when you’ve got the Prophet of God, you don’t need to look no where else.”    Dennis and Tim are both taken strong by the bad spirit which lords over this place.  In their competition for recognition, the people have set loose a fierce spirit of contention here.  It may be what I see exhibited in the women too.  I can see I’ll have to watch out for back biting and snitching.

3

            In late morning, the men were called from around the farm and gathered at the shops.  The Overcomer apparently has a deal with some neighboring farms to be able to pick up any corn left after the harvest.  Our task was to go across town and get as much of it as possible before the rains rot it while it sits on the ground.   The corn is harvested by a combine machine, and a lot is left behind hidden in the flattened stalks and shucks.   So we loaded onto the truck and trailer, took fruit and bread for lunch time, and spent the balance of the day gleaning corn. 

            I found the corn gathering enjoyable and challenging, and also back breaking work.  Enjoyable because we were out working the land and in fellowship as men.  Challenging because finding the corn in the underbrush is hard.  The rains have caused a lot of corn to become buried in wet soil.  The corn was already beginning to rot.  After an hour of working, I learned tricks in spotting the corn quicker. 

            The corn is planted in rows, and the men line up at one edge of the field picking an isle with one row to his left and right so that he gleans two rows at once.  When the other side of the field is reached, the men choose new isles and work their way back.  By this method, a 10 acre field can be covered in good time.  The corn is thrown into strategically placed common piles throughout the field for easy pickup.   At 14:30 Dave came by with the young boys in a Ford Aerostar-van to pitch in on the effort.  We worked the fields until supper time.  Glory to God!  It’s hard work, and I love it.  We’ll probably go back tomorrow for we did not finish the work.  I know this, we collected tons of corn for winter cow feed.

            Dave worked with us and the boys.  He was in a good mood, and for the first time I was thinking he may not be too bad a guy.  The kids like him sure enough.  By the end of the day, Dennis had become much less antagonistic toward me.  And John was excited about our discussion of the Bible and taking time to ask my opinion on the Book of Tobit.  The children here are well cared for and well eduated.  I really liked working with them and can see how I can get attached to each one.  They expressed acceptance of me as well.  If all days can be like this one, it will make staying here a lot easier. 

            Dinner was good.  We had home made bread and fresh cooked stew, and well it’s just too much to write about.  A hungry man enjoys what he eats.  Still though I waited until nearly all had served themselves before I got in line.  Dave keeps a close eye on everyone, and he hasn’t yet asked me what I’m waiting for when I delay getting food.  I’m content to leave things as they are.  Hey, things might start looking up around here for me!

            After dinner, I went with Enoch to the root cellar to do more rotating.  It wasn’t necessary to work, but I suggested it to him since it was only 17:30.  He liked the idea.  Another of Enoch’s jobs is to keep the school house stocked with wood.  At 18:00 the people are supposed to gather there for prayer hour every night.  I went with him to help with the wood.  I did not stay for their prayer hour afterward.  It isn’t my style.  I came to my room and started writing these notes.

4

            There are about a dozen children here, most being black, and half being girls.  They are all quite wonderful.  I don’t know how many toddlers or infants are here.  One of the boys has stuck out in my mind as a really nice lad.  Troy Thomas is a 10 year old white boy who has a single mother.  Some call him Troy, his mother calls him Thomas.  His personality is so strong that I’m drawn to him.  I like children, and they like me.  So I think I’ll work on making a friend  of Thomas while I’m here.  Nearly all the guys have a ski cap to keep the cold off while working in the mornings.  Fortunately I thought to buy two before I came.   Today Thomas told me that he didn’t have one.  I gave one of mine to him and I haven’t seen him without it yet. 

            The men and the women here have been truly classed and separated, and except those that are married, interactive contact does not occur.  The women are all over 25 years old, and some appear quite old.   To look at them is to see that they are tired out and holding up emotionally as best they can.  The best looking woman here is Mary.  She is a single white mother (so it seems) with an  8 year old boy.  She has a nice figure, a soft voice and good personality.  Thomas’ mother is a stern looking, good sized woman with rarely a smile on her face.   Sarah’s roommate is an old woman who has a whip cracking personality - positive and on the ball.  She is the laundry lady and does the single men’s laundry on Wednesdays.  The other women are married to the men and for the most part appear submissive.   There is no doubt that the people are suffering from restrictive interpersonal contact.  The women don’t even look at the men short of recognizing their presence.  I have seen no friendly exchanges or embraces.  One can only imagine the enmity that can build between people who are not allowed to communicate, yet daily slave for each other’s needs.  Undoubtedly this is where this strong spirit of contention which permeates this place finds its spawning grounds.  To coin an engineering term, the strain has gone into the plastic range!   The women just work, work , work!  I’ll bet they’re relieved when the Sabbath comes around.  And still, they work.

            There is a dog who lives here named Face because he has a big face.  He’s a brown hound-dog with a gimp front leg from being hit by a car.  Thomas told me Face used to live at the Camp Ground until he got hurt, and that now he spends his life hobbling from the kitchen at Fellowship Hall to his porch at one of the trailer homes.  He’s a nice dog, but I can tell his little life is not happy.  There are numerous cats which hang around the kitchen too.  They are not at all domesticated except that they get fed.

5

            John came in at about 19:30 and I heard him settle down on his bed.  I was reflection upon the monotony that must exist in his life, and how Dave had practically decreed that as long as John lived here he would be happy to remain single and in his place.  No growth, no expression, no romance, none of this exists for John on the future horizon.

            “John, “ I said.

            “Yeah.”

            “It’s really getting cold in here, do you think you could light the stove?”

            “No. It’s not my turn, it’s brother Marc’s turn. “

            “And if Marc decides not to light it, what happens?”

            “I don’t care.  I’ve got the middle room and I’m not cold.  If he gets cold, he’ll light it,” John said indignantly.

            “It’s right there next to your room.  Can you light it so I don’t have to go outside and around to light it?”

            “It’s not my turn,” he repeated.

            I got my shoes and coat on and went out to my van where I retrieved my little electric heater.  I set it up near my bed and turned it on.  I was determined not to freeze over John’s petty games with the stove. 

            After a short while John asked, “Brother Mark, what is that noise?”

            “I don’t hear any noise,” I said.

            “It’s coming from over there and I do hear it. What is it?”

            “Oh...you mean...my heater?”  I replied,  “Well what about it?”

            “I don’t think Brother Dave will approve of that here.  We’ll have to talk to him about it,” John threatened.

            “Light the fire.”

            “It’s not my turn.”

            I was getting no where with this jerk.  He apparently is in such a need of self expression that he was going to make a point of exercising any latitude that feels he has.  I unfortunately understand his situation and know compassion.  My room was warm enough now anyway, so I let the topic drop and turned off my heater. 

            “Hey John,” I said, “have you ever heard God speak to you?”

            “Oh... I suppose now you’re going to tell me how God speaks to you so that I can think you’re someone special or something.”

            “Forget you then.  I was only wanting to talk and compare notes.”

            John’s attitude softened.  “No...  I haven’t heard a voice or anything like that if that’s what you mean.  Have you?”

            “Nope.  Not a voice either.  But there was a time I was thinking about all the strife in the world and I prayed that God have mercy upon the innocent people.  A very powerful thought overtook me suddenly saying, ‘All have sinned and fallen short; there is no one innocent.’  And then an understanding was given to me I had not had before, and I was amazed.”

            “I can see what you mean when you put it that way,” John replied.

            “In church, I never liked the type of praying you all do here.  You know, getting on the knees for over an hour burring your face in a chair.  I can never pray that long, and I could tell the other people were just biding time too.  And you know the people who call out in “tongues?”  Why do they do that when it sounds forced and fake?” 

            “I know what you mean.”  John sounded more relaxed and even laughed.  “It’s not required you do all of that time on your knees; you could stand outside until it is over.  It’s kind of Pentecostal.  And I know what you’re thinking too.  It’s not scriptural without interpretations.  Yeah, it’s funny.  My last roommate said the same thing.”

            “What happened to your last roommate?”

            “He left.  He said the same things you say, but he was here for three years.  He met one of the sisters here and they left together.” 

            “I had heard about this from a friend of mine, Dave, who lives in Clifton, New Jersey.  It caused quite a ruckus here, right?” I asked  “There is something that bothers me about the way you are told to live here when I contrast it with the way Stair conducts his radio ministry.  Stair tells you that you have to be totally separate from the establishment money system and live in a closed Christian community.  And you are told by Dave and Stair that there is no one left out there worth saving, and therefore you need not proselytize the town’s people.  Yet Stair has a world wide radio ministry proselytizing as many as he can, and he uses the establishment’s system to support this farm.  He runs a 501 C-3 tax exempt corporation, and yet you are not even allowed to go into town with a dollar in your hand.  Don’t you think this is hypocrisy in the highest form?”

            “No I don’t see it that way,”  John said.

            “It is worth a thought John. “  Still not satisfied that I was finished pushing the envelope with John, I presented still another concept to him.  I wanted to know just how restricted this little society is.  “Do you know the woman in the coach next door to us - not the laundry lady, but the other old lady?”

            “Oh, you mean sister Sarah?”

            “I find that she is so friendly.  She is the only one who seems to have a personality of all the women here.  I’ve often thought she was in need of a hug because she works so hard.  There’s not enough cheer and love to go around here.  What do you suppose would be the reaction to such a friendly expression if I did it in full view of the group?”

            John was resolute in his response.  “That is not allowed here.  You would cause quite a scene and be punished.”

            “Still, it is a proper thing to do.  I’ll consider your admonition before I do such a thing though.  I’m just the guy who’s brave enough to do it.”

            “It’s your neck.  Do what you want,” he said.

            My next words may have gone too far for John.  “I have imagined myself living here.  It would be so easy to be taken care of.  Everything here is just provided - work, possessions, church etc..  But freedom; that does not exist here.  The freedom of thought is even suppressed.  Isn’t the reason for being here to escape the New World Order?    What of those who are witnessing and dying horrible deaths for the Name of Christ while I would sit here care free?  That would always be on my mind after a time.  There’s too much work to do out there.  How do you stay in touch with the world out there?   Can you say that after a long time out of touch in here that you can survive out there?”

            “I think there would be no problem for me.  But I can see the others having great difficulty,” John said.

            “Have you been on the farm the whole time you’ve been here?”

            “Pretty much. “

            “A lot has happened in four years that you may not be prepared for.  Rents have sky rocketed and wages are down.  Work is hard to find for anyone now.  If it was 1986 I might be inclined to believe you, but 1994 is a different world.  In just these eight years the government controls on personal income and liberty have become unbearable.  If you have to go back into the main stream, you’re in for a shocker.  What happens if this place falls apart?  Will Stair guarantee you all a smooth transition back?”

            “Brother Stair won’t just turn us out without helping us.  He helped people who’ve left us before!”

            It was time to leave John alone.  I may have frightened him with such stark truth after his so long being here.  My hope is to make him rethink where he is.  At that I said good night to John, knowing all very well that everything I spoke would in some way reach Dave’s ears before the end of the day tomorrow!

            God be praised, Amen.

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