CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 6

“Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.

Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.

You will forget the shame of your youth

And remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.

For your Maker is your husband –

The Lord Almighty is his name –

The Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer;

He is called the God of all the earth.

The Lord will bring you back

As if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit –

A wife who married young, only to be rejected,”

says your God.

“For a brief moment I abandoned you,

But with deep compassion I will bring you back.

In a surge of anger I hid my face from you for a moment,

But with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you.”

says the Lord your Redeemer.

Isaiah 54.4-8

Even as a teenager, I had made two enduring and unwavering resolutions concerning my life.  The first was that I would never, under any circumstances, commit suicide.  My eldest brother had committed suicide when he was eighteen and I was only six.  Our family had been torn apart by this tragedy. Although we loved him and understood the pressures which had caused his desperate act, I many times felt it was selfish in the extreme.  The burden of guilt it place on our family was eventually the primary cause for the break-up of my parents’ marriage.

My second resolution was that I would never, under any circumstances, divorce – with two provisions:   First, I wouldn’t stand for adultery and secondly, I wouldn’t tolerate physical abuse; apart from that I would never consider divorce, but stay  true to my marriage vows no matter the cost.  Having suffered the childhood traumas of divorced parents, I was not prepared to allow any of my offspring to endure such great emotional upheaval if it could possibly be avoided.  So, for me, divorce was never an option to be considered.  This left me with a fierce determination to see my marriage succeed and to make all the necessary sacrifices to that end.

                                                                                                                     

When searching for a life partner, I firmly resolved to find a man who demonstrated the potential for being a good father.  I reasoned that if I could find a man with the ability to be an excellent father, then I would, at the same time, have found myself a good husband.  I believed that this was a sound approach and at the age of 19 I had found my man.  Robin was 21 and I was 20 when we married, in 1971.  My resolutions of suicide and divorce have never been an issue, nor were they really put to the test, because I have always been content in my marriage.

By the time January, 1993 had arrived, however, life had moulded and changed both of us quite considerably from the starry eyed youngsters we were back then.  In the preceding three years, Robin became totally preoccupied with work.  I’ve never for one second believed this was due to ego or self-glorification.  Rather, like me, he was so desirous of contributing towards an improved South Africa, he became totally absorbed with all his efforts.  Often, unwittingly, to the exclusion of his family.

I believe this commitment to the upliftment of those less fortunate than ourselves, had its roots back in the UK from 1972  to 1975, when Robin obtained his Honours degree in the School of Social Studies at the University of East Anglia in Norwich.  Even though I did not attend university myself, that experience provided us both with an academically sound basis for all we have subsequently involved ourselves with – not to mention the development of our own marriage and mutual understanding.

Now, here in January, 1993, just at the beginning of our ministry, Robin had already suffered a nervous collapse twice in two years, due to overwork.  He had this amazing ability to continue working for 20 hours a day (often more), over a period of many consecutive months.  He would become ill with skin rashes and all kinds of psychosomatic symptoms.  We would often fight about the finances.  He would accuse me of overspending on the household, and I would become angry with him for investing all our money on what I saw as “hair brained” schemes.  We couldn’t seem to see eye to eye on anything concerning the purse.

Nevertheless, by God’s grace, we did manage to survive one way or another without being carried off by the bailiff.  We were merely a little misguided and lacking in wisdom.  Our motivation was not one of selfish ambition.  We wanted to help, and give and care.  Whenever Robin and I tried to sit down and discuss these problems amicably, we would end up fighting, blaming each other and finally reaching a deadlock.

So we continued, with all these irons in the fire.  Ministries, small businesses, normal work, the family and last but by no means least, our duties in the church.  By January, 1993 I once again perceived Robin to be showing signs of an approaching nervous breakdown.  I also realised that this time he was heading for very serious trouble.  He was constantly hyperactive.  He lost a great deal of weight and was running and running and running.  On the rare occasion when he took time to sit down, he would instantly fall asleep.  Sometimes even as he was eating his meals, or having his bath.  Most times while he was trying to hold down a conversation with me.  He would always fall asleep in church.

I became worried in the extreme.  At night he would thrash about and sweat and cry out in his sleep.  He was even ‘cycling’ in his sleep.  I’d often have to wake him because his legs were cycling, even in a horizontal position!  It was no good talking to him though, he simply kept saying:  “I just want to get this one project off the ground.  Just this last thing.  If it works, we can be set up for life.”  There was nothing I could do, except observe and despair.

In my unhappiness, I spent long hours with the Lord.  Often I’d resignedly sit there, crying and bemoaning this sad state of affairs.  I would beseech the Lord to intervene and to put our lives back on track again.  It seemed as if we were heading for a disaster, and I had no idea how to change direction.  I often considered speaking to one of the pastors, but never got that far for fear that they would label Robin with one of their derogatory labels, or misinterpret my concerns and imagine Robin and I had a bad marriage, penalising us accordingly.

Moreover, I became intensely fearful that the church would notice that Robin was beginning to act rather ‘strangely’.  His teachings were a little weird, lacking cohesion a lot of the time.  He had bags under his eyes and scratched himself incessantly, so that at times he would bleed.  His weight loss was quite obvious; he fell asleep in every service and, worst of all, he had absolutely no memory whatsoever.  That meant he was continually forgetting meetings, messages, dates and arrangements.  I prayed and prayed that God would not let any of our pastors notice until he was well again.  I knew they would not have patience with him if they were to discover he was having a problem; being a District Leader and all.

In January, 1993 our much loved and kindly Zone Pastor, Jack Lake, had just retired.  There were only three District Leaders from whom they could choose a pastor to represent the South.  Robin, John Sullivan and Henry Irons.  Robin was never in the race because, firstly, he did not feel called to the five-fold ministry, except perhaps when it came to TLC sometime in the distant future.  Secondly, there was no way our large family could survive on a junior pastor’s salary.

The hot favourite for this position had historically been John Sullivan.  Sadly, however, John and just suffered a marriage break-up and was therefore disqualified.  Robin and I were very distressed about this.  John and Margie Sullivan had been dear friends of ours for many years.  We had witnessed their crumbling marriage and had tried what little we could to help keep it together.  Once again, though, the church was totally remiss in providing any counselling or help in order to preserve that relationship.

When the final bomb-shell hit and the divorce proceedings were underway, everybody suddenly gasped in surprise.  Evidently they never noticed there was a problem.  Margie left the church and John tried to hang on as best he could.  But he was severely disciplined and denied ministry of any description.  John took this very badly because he had been deeply involved in ministry up to that point.  He had basically been Pastor Jack’s right hand man.  Now he was cut right down to the quick.

Today I feel it is ironic that John and I should have spent hours in discussion about his disillusionment with the church and desire to resign.  I would try any manner of means to keep him in the church, fearful that his spiritual life would be severely impacted if he were to leave.  Especially considering that he had been so heavily involved in ministry up to that point, which incidentally, had become the very bone of contention which led to the marriage difficulties.  I did succeed in keeping John focussed for a couple of months, in spite of Lyn Fulford, the senior pastor in charge of Home Fellowships, frustrating all my finest efforts by continually discouraging John from staying in the church.  I never for a moment could have dreamed that in less than a year my own family would have received the left foot of fellowship as well.

Pastor Jack’s replacement was, therefore, Henry Irons by default.  Unfortunately, many church members in the Southern Suburbs did not hold Henry in the same high esteem as they did Pastor Jack.  Consequently, we were more than a little concerned about this appointment.

From the beginning, Henry Irons was one of the least helpful people I have ever met.  I don’t say this with any amount of either pleasure or malice.  It’s not my normal style to make character assassinations, but this story would not be complete without being open and honest about his contribution towards our downfall in the church.

Our association with Henry Irons went back many years.  My first unfavourable experience with him was at a Home Fellowship Leaders’ Gathering, where he openly admitted to not allowing black people in his Home Fellowship, because ‘they only came for the tea and the cake’.  This might seem a terribly petty thing to mention.  The point is, Henry had characterised himself with those type of petty remarks and incidents.  I don’t want to single out any more of them at this juncture because as my story progresses, clarity will come.  Suffice to say, we had much experience with him, and many of us did not feel he was shepherd material.

Most ministries specifically dealing with black people that his predecessor, Pastor Jack Lake, had developed were abruptly ended when Henry Irons took over.  Any which managed to survive a little longer, were discouraged at every turn. Finances and provisions donated by the church were soon discontinued, making ministry impossible.  This included the Walkerville ministry.

Early in the year of 1993, we had our first Leaders’ Meeting at the church.  That was, without a doubt, the earliest rude awakening I had concerning the fact that things were no longer kosher in our church.  First of all, Pastor Joe Peter went to great lengths to explain that two of the senior pastors had been axed.

One was the dean of the Bible School, Vic Mundy, who was married and had an affair with the wife of a friend.  Obviously, nobody would condone such behaviour; but what I found distasteful and hypocritical was the apparent surprise of all the pastors.  Even students in the Bible School were aware of the hanky panky going on as long ago as two years previously.  Also, the fact that Pastor Ray had at first tried his best to cover up the whole scandal until Vic Mundy openly refused to co-operate and mend his ways.

I wasn’t about to judge the situation.  Adultery is a serious offence in the church, by God’s decree.  But I pitied Vic Mundy.  In spite of the fact that he had caused his own downfall, I imagined that it should be terribly traumatic to change from hero to villain overnight.  I did not think the pleasure of his sin could have adequately compensated for all that he had lost.

The other person to get the chop was Pastor Robert Bruun, and this came as a terrible shock to me.  The reason given was his “inability to cope with stress”.  It turned my blood to water, to think that a man of his calibre, who had been with the church for so long, and in such a high position, could be simply axed and discarded.  His crime?  An inability to cope with stress!  It seemed to me to be ungodly and lacking compassion, given the extenuating circumstances prevailing in his personal life, which had inadvertently come to my attention through TLC.  I knew then, that my fears of exposing Robin’s stress related problems were not unfounded.  I was incredibly relieved that I had had the wisdom to keep my mouth shut concerning this delicate issue.

At this particular meeting, Robin did his usual embarrassing trick of sleeping throughout the entire session.  During Joe Peter’s address, I caught sight of Henry Irons who, having noticed that Robin was sleeping, had poked his wife, Amalia, in the ribs in order to bring this great iniquity to her attention.  He spent the rest of the meeting shaking his head, sniggering and sneering.  Evidently he was delighted that he had caught my eye and he knew I was aware of his supposed ‘displeasure’.  Petty?  Yes!  Nevertheless, the incident gave me an ominous premonition.  I sensed, somehow, that our days were numbered.  If not as members of the church, then at least in leadership.

In February, a representative of an organisation called ISM came to my home on a Wednesday evening, and presented TLC with a beautiful computer to aid us with our fundraising endeavours.  The home cell, as well as Henry and Amalia were invited to this presentation.  At almost the same time, Lotus South Africa donated all the packages of Lotus SmartSuite to the ministry.  This included a word processing package.

The computer and software was a tremendous boon and I immediately set about taking addresses out of the “Who’s Who” Directory onto disk with the help of Jane, my niece.  Next, I composed a fundraising letter and sent it off to all the addresses.  Many nights were spent with the whole family sitting around the dining room table, stuffing and licking envelopes.  We all found it very exciting, sending out all the letters and then in a week or two visiting the post box daily to see the response.  It was a bit like fishing, I thought!  A harvest of letters came pouring in, offering support.  In a short while I was able to open a bank account and gained a little confidence regarding my fundraising abilities.

John Miller, the Bible School lecturer, resigned, and became a pastor in the church.  He had been my mentor regarding TLC, and he thought it would be beneficial if I visited the AFM (Apostolic Faith Mission) Orphanage.  My best friend from Bible School, Sheryl Jackson, worked at the AFM Church in Randburg.  She made it possible for us to see Prof. Mostert.  The girls and I, and Ingrid Smith went to visit him at the orphanage.

Johan Mostert was quite wonderful.  Together with his wife, Andrea, they went to great pains to show us around the orphanage in detail.  They spent a good two hours with us.  We loved them very much.  I was enormously impressed with this lovely, godly couple.  They plied us with books, pamphlets and all kinds of information necessary for our education concerning ministry to the orphans.  We found them tender hearted and helpful, offering us any future assistance we may need.

Very soon after our visit to the AFM Orphanage, Ingrid Smith informed me that she could no longer survive on a social worker’s salary and was leaving the profession to join a bank.  Naturally, I was sad and deflated about this, but we decided that God would certainly provide us with another social worker in due course.

We worked hard, establishing contacts and relationships.  I already had a pretty good picture of the black orphanages.  We were also very familiar with Cotlands and St. Mary’s Children’s Home, which are, in my opinion, satisfactory places as orphanages go, although they remain institutions in the final analysis.

We set up meetings and visited people like Princess Alice, Home for Unwed Mothers, other White children’s homes and SOS Villages.  Robin found time to accompany me to Princess Alice.  We spoke to two ladies, one Marionke Manais and the other’s name I don’t recall.  We told them that we were very interested in adopting two black babies ourselves.  We also made the big mistake of sharing with them our larger vision of a TLC community.  We sensed strongly during this interview that they weren’t interested in entertaining our proposal of adopting two black babies.  We never discovered what their justification was.  People like this don’t have the courtesy to be straight with you.  They told us to fill in forms, write a letter and send a photograph of the whole family; which we did, but to no avail.  We never received a response to these at all.  Not even to this day.

I had sympathy with the pitiful couples who longed to have their lives filled with a baby and who received this type of treatment.  I have five children of my own and I believe with all my heart I have proved myself to be a good mother.  I am also a good mother to Jimmy.  We have fostered children all our married life.  Children of relatives and family.  For many years we were foster parents for St. Mary’s Children’s Home when Mrs. Green was still in charge there, and later, Thelma Cohen.  We had an excellent relationship with both of them.

Yet, somehow, the representatives in Johannesburg Child Welfare had the power to get even me to look in the mirror and say, “Well, Thea, maybe you aren’t capable of being a foster parent.”  How much more will that inferiority be built into a person who has never had the opportunity of testing their own parental skills?  I realise, and they will always say, that they cannot be too careful.  But if the orphanages are bulging with children and families like mine are pushed away without proper investigation, then they are being too careful; in fact they are being downright neglectful.

We visited companies and people who would be interested in supporting us once we were more established.  I contacted a close friend, Mark Kaplan of Micor Shipping who immediately gave us his unqualified support and encouragement.  It was a very exciting time, marred only by the fact that we could see no way of physically receiving a couple of babies to start our ministry with.

Life was a little hectic on the personal front, as well.  My mother has always been very demanding of my time and emotional energy.  She’s suffered from chronic depression for as long as I can remember.  This seems to become worse and worse with the passage of time and trying to help her cope is a very time consuming occupation.  In addition to this, Trusy’s condition was beginning to deteriorate rapidly, although she believed with all her heart that she would be healed and I respected that and went along with her.

Robin was very abruptly made redundant after 17 years of employment at the end of March.  We were convinced that this was a case of unfair dismissal but Robin was not inclined to take the matter to the Industrial Court because it would have made too much of a demand on his time.

To others it appeared that he didn’t react badly to his dismissal, but I knew him well enough to know it was a bitter blow for him.  Ever the hero, though, he put on a brave smile and simply continued with all his irons in the fire.  He started building up his own manufacturing company, producing household products.  He was also continuing his computer consulting interests in association with my two brothers, Etsko and Jerry in Schuitema Associates, to which end he held three agency agreements which had to be developed.

I became more and more anxious about Robin, because he was now rushing around so frenetically he no longer seemed completely in touch with reality.  It was a peculiar behavioural phenomenon to observe.  He seemed to be a person living in another dimension.  Another time-zone.  It was literally as if he was speeded up and couldn’t slow down.  Even his voice had a pitch that was reminiscent of a slightly speeded up film.  Everything he did was bordering on frenzied.  He was no longer just running; he was dashing.  It was impossible to keep track of either his movements or his intentions for they were changing so rapidly.

When he left his employer, he lost his company car and had to borrow a very unreliable vehicle which did not enhance his productivity during the day.  On Saturday the car broke down while he was out delivering fabric softener.  It was a day when he was due to attend a District Leaders’ meeting at Henry Irons’ house.  I didn’t know where he was, or if he had, in fact, simply forgotten about the meeting.  By 3 pm however, I became anxious because he was in the habit of driving into Soweto and violence was rife at the time.

When the telephone rang, I felt sure it would be Robin calling to put my mind at rest.  It wasn’t Robin, however, it was Henry Irons asking what had happened to Robin.  I explained the situation, but he was in his normal non-negotiable mood.  He let me know in no uncertain terms that he didn’t believe me.  That Robin wasn’t going to play the fool with him, like he had played the fool with Pastor Jack.  He said decisions had been taken at this meeting which Robin would not be happy about.  It was his own fault, because he didn’t bother to attend.  He said Robin should call him back as soon as he could.  Then he slammed the ‘phone down.

Robin arrived home about twenty minutes later, looking exhausted and beaten, with grease up to his elbows and bloodshot eyeballs from lack of sleep.  I would have preferred not to bother him, but felt it advisable that he should call Henry as soon as possible.

However, I did give him a warning about Henry’s mood and mildly suggested that he consider temporarily suspending his duties as District Leader until he had more time available to do the position justice.

I know today, that the very idea of relinquishing his position was deeply painful for him.  But at that moment he was so tired and the thought of dealing with Henry’s trivia was clearly too much.  So he ‘phoned him and offered to hand in his resignation at church on Sunday, much to Henry’s obvious delight.

The decision which was taken at the meeting which Robin was not supposed to like was one of opening another home cell just around the corner from mine.  I knew exactly what that decision meant and the motivation behind it.  Firstly, Robin would lose his District Leadership and, with a new home cell in my area, my own home cell was destined for closure.  It was obvious to me, because there were many areas a little further afield where a home-cell was desperately needed and none opened, and yet now they had two in our direct area, within a couple of blocks from each other.  I made a quality decision there and then that I was not going to capitulate as easily as Henry hoped.

We were beginning to be invited to different churches, particularly to ladies’ meetings, to share our vision.  The experience was wonderful and we were received with much love and affection.  From time to time we would get a little persecuted because some people didn’t relish the idea of white people raising black babies.  At one church meeting in Krugersdorp, a lady was rather sharp with me.  I had opened the meeting to the floor for questions and she was immediately on the attack and very irately asked:

“If you are white and these kids are black, I’d like to know who they are supposed to date when they get older?”

She completely floored me, not only by the question but by her attitude.  Fortunately, my niece, Jane, who is by nature rather forthright, jumped to her feet and told the lady that God could certainly be trusted to provide suitable partners for his children.  The lady held her peace after that.

I persisted in enquiring from Henry about publicising TLC within the home fellowships and making it a project in the South, in accordance with the discussion we had had with Alan McCauley.  Pastor Jack had delegated the whole matter to Henry before he retired.  My efforts achieved nothing; he just kept dodging the issue.  He said there were other ministries presenting to the home fellowships and he did not want to overload them.  In due time, he would let me know when we would be able to do this.  That’s where it stayed, month after month.  He clearly had no intention of being moved one inch to help our ministry.

Not that any of this surprised me though, because I knew Henry.  I was well acquainted with his stalling tactics.  His ability to say ‘no’ without actually saying ‘no’.  But  the others, Joanna, Warren, Pippa and Jane were beginning to feel a little cheated that we were receiving all this favour from other churches, particularly the traditional churches, and yet our own home church was all but ignoring our existence.  I didn’t think that it was an indication of the church’s disinterest, but merely that Henry was blocking our access because of his personal prejudices.

In casual conversation at one point, I made it clear to Henry that I would prefer it if I was not forced into the necessity of taking the matter over his head, to Pastor Ray!  He laughed at this and stated that there was no way I could get to see even a senior pastor without his permission, let along Pastor Ray!  He made it clear that as a Zone Pastor he had the power to stop me.  I wasn’t unduly alarmed by this.  I felt I had a sufficiently good relationship with many of the pastors to enable me to gain access, when the need arose.

Also, there was the matter of Peter Watkins’ prophecy.  This had clearly stated that our own church would let us down, initially.  On the positive side, however, other churches would rally around us.  This was already happening and I resigned myself to the fact that it was all in accordance with God’s will.  There was no need to panic.  God was in control.  I could not have dreamed of the proportions this was going to take, though.  If I had, I certainly would have panicked.

Joanna was in First Year Bible College.  She had just completed her B.Sc. the year before and wanted to give the Lord a year of her life before she started in on a career.  Warren was in the army and due to complete his training in July.  The two were engaged on Joanna’s 21^st birthday, on the 24^th April.

Warren was very infatuated with the whole idea of TLC.  He was always blessing us with inspiring ideas for the ministry.  Activities for the children.  Innovative building structures.  We would dream together for hours and hours.  These children were going to be so blessed!

Indeed, I felt blessed.  Even though my church was taking a back seat, I felt that once the babies arrived and things started to move (even without Rhema’s help) and we became a rip-roaring success in all the things God planned to do for our little babies, then they would see, then they would believe and then they would get involved.  I wasn’t proud!  I was going to afford them that opportunity, even if they didn’t believe to begin with.