Bitter Contradiction
People are complicated and we have just scratched the surface.
Lois Lane1 is an angry, ungrateful, mean, and hateful woman. Her insistent accusation is about the people from her home church she claims betrayed her, took away her home, stole her money, dumped her off at Jenni-Lynn Assisted Living, and forgot about her.
Her friends do visit, but they are subjugated to rants of hatred, complaints, and accusations.
Lois wants to go to her home church, but instead of enjoying the comfort of fellowship, she will stand up during the service and make accusations against the church about their alleged betrayals. They stopped stopped bringing her to church.
Better to dwell in the wilderness than with a contentious and angry woman.
~ Pro 21:19 NKJV ~
I met Lois through Helping to Introduce God Ministries (HIM). HIM visits Jenni-Lynn two Sundays per month to hold worship services, give a short message, and minister to the residents in song and prayer. Gospel Bold partnered with HIM to support their efforts and to minister to the residents.
I did not want to be her audience, but I was always in her line of sight. Who wants to listen to that bitterness? Besides, Lois carries a consistent fecal aroma that makes for an unpleasant conversation. You would think avoiding someone in a walker is easy, but she zeroed in on me like there was a target on my back. She grabbed my attention every time. I never had a chance.
I know what you are thinking. How unloving is that to write off Lois? Like the other residents, I avoided her, but if I am to reach out to our forgotten neighbors, I must be willing to get into the thick of it. I must walk the talk and embrace the marginalized. I must get myself out of the way so that Jesus can minister to Lois and others like her through me.
Something was about to change.
HIM rang in the New Year by celebrating with the residents on New Year’s Eve day. Afterward, Lois and the wafting fecal aroma found me again. She handed me a small photo album binder designed with colorful flowers on the cover and said, “I want someone to write a song.”
I reluctantly took the binder and opened it. Where there should have been pictures, there were 4x6 pieces of paper with poems typed on each page. Inside the cover were these words:
These writings are dedicated in loving memory to my husband, Clark2.
Especially I thank God, who, for some reason gave me this special gift of writing.
Thank you to all who believed in me and encouraged me to finally assemble my writings, and a special thanks to Marvel, for the compiling and typing of this collection.
Now, I was intrigued. On the same page with the dedication to her late husband, Lois also wrote this short poetic prayer.
Lord, you are the author, But the pen is my hand. Why you have chose me to write I don't understand.
Is Lois a sister-in-Christ? As I read the poems from the comfort of my favorite chair, I realized there was much more to her story that I was avoiding. I realized there was something, and someone beautiful, hiding behind the scowl and smell that could pen such beautiful words.
Poets write from their hearts about events they either observe or experience. Their poems serve as rhythmic biographies about their life experiences. Lois is not any different.
Her spoken, callous words are vastly different from her tender, thoughtful written words. Her poems revealed a compassionate heart. In print, it appeared she loved Jesus and was born again. She loved and cherished the people in her life — friends, family, church members. There was a short essay about her home church she attended for twenty-five years when it was written3.
It was time to visit Lois.
She was napping. The hefty lunch of ribs put her into a comfortable food coma. Sitting in my Jeep, thinking about what to do next, I thumbed through her book and carefully read the essay about her church titled My Church. The church named in the essay is Congaree Presbyterian Church, and it was a mere three miles from Jenni-Lynn. (Cue the Mission Impossible theme music.)
I knew what to do and sped out from Jenni-Lynn’s parking lot to the church.
I had to investigate. Was her church as callous as she claimed? Were they aware of her miserable circumstances? Are they evil betrayers and thieves? I needed answers.
I was happy to see the many cars parked around the church when I arrived, a good sign it was opened. It was exactly as she described it:
It is not the most ornate church in Cayce, and a far cry from the largest in size or congregation. But, I feel a reverence and warmth when I open the big heavy door. The dark, rich, red carpet and the pews of a light brown, maybe a dark blonde in color, welcome me to my earthly, spiritual home.
Six open-beam arches meet above me as hands folded in prayer. Brick walls have encased in them the stained windows representing church heritage and symbols of my my Christian faith.
- My Church (excerpt)
With all the cars parked outside, I hoped a service was afoot.
I followed the signs directing me toward the church office in the adjacent fellowship hall. A dozen people were standing around talking inside. An event had ended shortly before my arrival — a funeral. Perfect timing, right?
But I persisted by wandering around to figure out who I should approach. Preferably someone friendly and not crying. In the kitchen was a group of ladies packing away food and cleaning up. I peeked inside and got the attention of a short, stout woman. She asked, “Can I help you?” and told me her name was Carolynn.
“Yes. Do you know Lois?” With a reluctant sigh she said, “Oh, I know Lois.” Her face betrayed her thoughts with a look that said, “What now?” This was going to be interesting. As we talked, Patty and Pat joined in the conversation. These women were the betrayers who conspired to ruin Lois’s life and took everything away from her.
The cordial church ladies grew up together in the church from the age of ten or twelve. They have known each other for over forty years. All have known Lois for over thirty years.
They shared the challenges and frustrations of their contentious friend. All agreed that Lois has always been difficult — bitter, angry, ungrateful, resentful — despite their sacrificial efforts to always help her, such as picking her up for church. She never learned to drive, and someone faithfully picked her up every Sunday and took her home afterward for thirty years.
I have described where I worship with my church family. Describing my personal love of them would take another lifetime.
- My Church (excerpt)
The church ladies were filling important parts of Lois’s story. I presumed the bitterness was something recent and possibly due to the onset of neurological conditions4. But she has been bitter for decades. Still, it did not make any sense. She was two very different people. The person on the outside had a nasty disposition, and the poet on the inside was beautiful, kind, and loving. So it seemed.
As the kind church ladies shared stories about her, I learned she had reasons to be bitter and resentful.
Her first husband, David, left her for another woman in the church, but it gets worse. Unbelievably, instead of leaving the church, David and the other woman continued to attend the same church as Lois. Talk about rubbing salt into the wound. It would be almost comical if it were not so wrong and painful for Lois. Did they think there was a possibility for reconciliation? Or that everyone gets along? Or that the church approved?
Shouting bouts often happened in front of the congregants. Enough was enough. The pastor finally told David to leave the church. Later, and against all counsel by the pastor, church elders, and friends, Lois resigned her parental rights to David and the other woman. They had no idea why Lois would do such a thing.
It seemed the resignation of her parental rights made her daughter feel rejected by her mom. They were estranged for fifteen years before they reconciled.
We finally go together after all this time. The barrier is now broken, Brought down by hugs and tears; I waited for this miracle That took fifteen years.
- My Daughter, February 28, 1996 (excerpt)
Lois remarried. The church ladies said she was married to Clark Lane for a short time. They were unsure how long but explained that it was a good time for Lois. She was different, pleasant, and happy.
There is a poem where the words appear to be about her husband.
Big strong shoulders, gentle touch. Lifting me up when I am down, Changing my smile from a frown.
- My Best Friend (excerpt)
It looked like Lois and Clark were deeply in love.
The bitter, contentious woman was fated to return. Clark died from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), also known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. He died sometime before 1998, and she never remarried.
So what happened? Lois is a bitter contradiction of ugliness on the outside and beauty on the inside. There is no indication she is angry with God. Her poems express a deep love for Christ and the Church and a sound grasp of essential doctrine. She loved her friends, yet there was hatred, but how could that be?
Those things which proceed out of the mouth come from the heart, and they defile a man. If someone says, "I love God," and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen? 1Jo 4:20 NKJV
~ Mat 15:18 NKJV; 1Jo 4:20 NKJV ~
People are complicated, and we have just scratched the surface of Lois, but it is enough to understand where the roots of her bitterness are planted. There are other reasons for the bitterness because the roots were already there before joining the church. What was her childhood like? I hope to find out.
Congaree Presbyterian Church and her friends did not betray her. The church did not steal her money. Someone in the church manages her finances, and another manages her healthcare. They did not take her home. Her home was dilapidated, and she left the stove on several times. Other incidents showed that she was endangering herself. It was unsafe to leave her home alone. They placed her in assisted living and sold the home.
The bitterness, whatever the cause, is a symptom of something deeper. We should not judge, condemn, or write Lois off because of the bitterness that expresses itself in the most unfriendly ways toward others. But we cannot assume she is saved because of her beautiful poetry that seems to say otherwise. Biblically, the truth of Scripture provides a clear answer.
I want to help her break the bitterness. I want Lois to express on the outside the words and love from her poetry that lives inside of her. Only time, which she has little of, will tell.
Not her real name.
Not his real name.
His Hands, My Pen was published in July 1998 by Larrick Publishing, Columbia, SC.
I am not a doctor. The state of her mind is an observation but it could also be a sign of prescribed medicine to control her difficult behavior.