Slide Show

I wonder if The Way will ever really acknowledge its underbelly?
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2001, Thanksgiving.
I think that was the date. I'll have to find my notes some day.

In one of the luxurious ballrooms at the Wyndham Anatole Hotel in Dallas, Texas, I sat in my metal chair with the padded seat watching the big screen. Lights were low as the slide show blended from one scene into the next, displaying the history of The Way, this ministry which I loved dearly. This ministry which had gone through the fire, having survived tumultuous years of unrest and loss, and was now emerging stronger, more mature, more compassionate, more open.

At least that was my hope for The Way. I wanted it to thrive. I wanted it to get back to the freedom I had experienced when I first got involved in 1977. We seemed to be on the right track now, a road toward healing.

The Anatole's walls were graced with artwork - large canvases with ornate frames. Large sculptures and statues caught my attention as I walked the echoing marble floors. Elegant. Rich. Cultivated. Exquisite. I recall two baby-grand pianos in two different large open public corridors; anyone could sit down to play a tune. Couches and rich upholstered furniture were had by passers-by as the black and whites harmonized and as sky entered the galleries through tall windows.

I felt wealthy in this hotel. I enjoyed the indulgence. At the time I thought, The Ministry always does things right.

~*~

I'd run into some folks at this Advanced Class Graduate gathering. Two of those folk being Vera and Vicki. At least I think I saw Vicki at this 2001 gathering and not at the one in 1997. Both these women had my respect and love. They were open, honest, down-to-earth. We could talk about most anything.

I knew Vicki from the mid -1990s when she and her husband served as Way Corps in North Carolina. Our children used to play together while Vicki and I would hang out and chat. Vicki's family had moved to Wisconsin after their year in North Carolina. It was good to see her again.

Vera and I chanced upon each other in the spacious Anatole mezzanine. Our eyes met; there was a spontaneous deep connection and understanding. We didn't have to talk of the years of trial; we had lived them. I stated with deep gratitude how good it was to see her, that so many of the old faces had left the Ministry. "We're still here Vera." She nodded in agreement, resonating the same indebtedness for the Ministry, for God, for faithfulness. Vera had been one of my roommates back in the early 1980s when we were in-residence in the Way Corps at Emporia, Kansas She and her husband now lived in Florida, having moved back there in the latter 1990s after living some years in North Carolina.

~*~

I sat in my padded metal chair along with five hundred other saints in the elegant ballroom sitting on their padded metal chairs awaiting the slide show, an overview of The Way, 1942 through 2001. Lights low, pictures began to roll across the screen. I don't recall any music being played with the slides, but there was narration. It seems Rosalie narrated. Rev. Rosalie Rivenbark, the third President of The Way International, with her thick accent from Eastern North Carolina. I was proud we had a woman president. And she was from my home state. North Carolina had a rich Way history. Some of the first Way leaders from the 1960s came from East Carolina University.

Nostalgia arose within me as I watched the slides merge one into another. Uncle Harry. Dr. Wierwille. Mrs. Wierwille. Headquarters. Rome City. Emporia. Howard Allen. Saints still living; others who had died and were awaiting Jesus Christ's return. I would see them again.

I felt sadness for the faces not shown: those who had deserted the Ministry, those who had turned their backs on the men and women who taught them the Word, those who accused The Way and Doctor of evil. Out of pride they had fallen, starting their own ministries, robbing saints from the Household. The Ministry was always diligent to not show slides in which the tripped-out leaders were depicted. There was no profit in bringing up those negatives from the past.

I waited and watched, listening to the narration, wondering how Craig Martindales's almost-eighteen-year, now tainted, tenure would be presented. Craig had served as the second president of The Way from October, 1982, through April, 2000. He had shamed The Way's name by his adulterous actions which had led to a lawsuit. The Ministry lost thousands of followers under his leadership, and that was before the lawsuit.

Only two slides were shown to acknowledge Craig. Both were from Craig;s 1982 installation as the second President of The Way. Neither photo showed Craig's face, but rather the back of his head and body.

One photo was of Doctor pouring the anointing oil over Craig as Craig knelt in front of Doctor. Doctor's hands stroked the oil across Craig's hair. My eyes momentarily landed upon Doctor's elderly gentle face. The other slide was of Doctor placing the mantel around Craig's shoulders, again from the angle depicting the back of Craig's body, not the front.

I was immediately taken back to that 1982 inauguration and installation. In my mind's eye I saw Doctor's gentle smile and eyes full of pride as he gazed upon Craig, like Craig was his own son. Their was a hint of sadness though, in Doctor's eyes. A hint of concern about the unknown future of The Way. After all this was Doctor's life's blood; he had given all for the Ministry, for the Word, for God and God's people. As Doctor stroked Craig's locks and placed the mantel over Craig's shoulders, his hands seemed nervous; perhaps they were.

The narration to the two slides caught my attention bringing me back to the present. "The Rev. L. Craig Martindale was inaugurated as the 2nd president of The Way in 1982, and served in that capacity for eighteen years, resigning in 2000."

I felt a lump in my throat. That's it? I thought. All those years in two slides and a sentence? My heart hurt. My stomach contorted.

I immediately arrested my thoughts and inner responses, renewing my mind to the Word. Well, I guess that is the best way to handle it, the most loving way. Forgetting the past and reaching forth to those things which are before. The love of God covers a multitude of sins.
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