the streetcar I returned to the crusade. Cicero was still heralding the Day of the Lord, but he’d finished with the felt board and it now leaned against the chair. The cross still bridged the great gulf, but the golden crown and the black stick figure had both slid to the ground and the grey slush.
II
Experience has proved the toad to be endowed with valuable qualities.
If you run a stick through three toads, and, after having dried them in the sun, apply them to any pestilent tumour, they draw out all the poison, and the malady will disappear.
Martin Luther
1
January 26, 1979
Finally, out of the Infirmary! (Worst flu ever. A week’s way too long for little but cups of pasty Tang and National Geographics with all the breasts blacked out. (I know they mean well, but it makes me wonder if the reason our Dining Hall breakfast eggs are always scrambled or hard-boiled is that they don’t trust us with easy-overs and sunny-sides up.)
But that’s okay; at least I’m beginning to trust myself. Every night about 8, when one of the nurses would come around to offer talcum-powdered backrubs, I just said a polite “Thanks, but no thanks.” Of course they were only doing their jobs, and I know they were totally innocent, but the prospect of some female contact — particularly if Inka Ebbers was on duty — excited the other guys so much that I thought it prudent to be a humble witness of restraint. (Praise God, it’s been nearly four weeks since I abused myself!)
I shared a room with Chester Babbs. He joked he has no problem avoiding pre-marital sex, because he doesn’t plan to marry.
Chester’s funny, but he’s definitely on my prayer list for February.
January 28
Amazing service this morning. Pastor Barstowe preached. First time I’ve heard him, and best sermon I’ve ever heard on Leviticus 10. (I wonder: how often have I offered strange fire like Nadab and Abihu?) He had three alliterated points with three subpoints each and went on for an hour and a half. He must be my grandmother’s age. (God, that I might have a half portion of his blessing!)
Sat down front with Delbert. He likes to be “in the line of conviction.” Every time I’ve sat with him he’s wound up weeping by the end of the service. He sniffles quietly and doesn’t really make a scene, but next time I’ll suggest we move back a few rows.
January 31
Langdon’s World Religions class isn’t precisely what I’d hoped for. He’s a godly man for sure, and all his years on the mission field make for some gripping anecdotes, but I guess I was expecting to learn something. Can’t blame him, though. For a guy with only a high school diploma, and that by correspondence, he’s done OK for himself. (In Jesus’ name, I rebuke the spirit of sarcasm!)
Today he mentioned that when he was in the Philippines he learned to smell demons. I can’t say it surprised me to learn they smell pretty bad. Now, I’m sure, a few people’ll be self-conscious whenever they pass Langdon in the hall. (“Aren’t you glad you wash in the blood of the Lamb? Don’t. you wish everybody did?”)
Can’t believe I just wrote that. Maybe I’m still a little sick. Not that that’s an excuse. God forgive me, anyway
February 2
Dreamt about the Rapture last night. It happened during high school gym. Mr De Soto had gathered the class around the tram-poline to watch me demonstrate a double back flip which he knew I couldn’t make. The trumpet sounded while I was stalling, taking gentle warm-up bounces. When I was about to pass through the ceiling and into glory I glanced down, and De Soto called out sharply that he’d have to mark me absent. I remember how relieved I was. I knew that flip would have killed me.
February 5
Miss Faulkner finally passed around a sign-up sheet for her long-promised second semester dinner parties. I’m going in a couple of weeks — the first slot available for guys. I know Chester and Tibo signed up for that night, too. Not sure who the fourth is. Chester’s pretty excited. Says she’s supposed to be the best cook on faculty. I don’t care if she serves beans on toast. (Blah (I guess I do!) She’s the most interesting person here. Where was she before her conversion? University of Alabama? Georgia? Somewhere down there for something like a dozen years, and now another ten or so at Overcomer.
In the eyes of the world our faculty and graduates must look singularly unequipped to prosper. Handicapped, even, from ever earning living wages. To think, Faulkner abandoned a tenure and her colleague’s respect so she could impoverish herself for Christ’s sake at a non-accredited Bible College. Now that’s a testimony!
If she’s still teaching Greek next year, I think I’ll take it. If not, then it’s on to Principles of Chalk Art.
February 6
Morning chapel sure was wild.
I’ve known since last Wednesday that Dean Blier was scheduled to address only the freshmen guys today. Now I know I haven’t been imagining all those sophomores snickering at us.
Before Blier told us the text of his message he demanded that we all take notes. Then he asked us to turn to Proverbs 6:25 (“Lust not after her beauty in thine heart; neither let her take thee with her eyelids.”) and calmly announced he was going to speak about “the spilling of seed.” Ouch. “I thank God He spared me,” he added quickly and with much emotion. (I really should pray tonight for the Lord to help my attitude towards the Dean.)
Basically, he’s not for it. Neither am I, but even though it’s been a month and a half since I last touched myself with lewd intent it’s not as if I haven’t wanted to. Sure, I wouldn’t accept a backrub, but I’ve committed masturbation many times in my heart.
The girls, it seems, heard a devotional study about etiquette. (I guess they’re just not challenged like us guys in the sexual realm.) At lunch Wendy Weibe asked me about our chapel. “Pretty much the same,” I said.
It’s not like I believe in situation ethics, but I thought a little lie was called for there.
February 8
Letter today from Mother. Nanny’s coming home! She’s leaving England in the Spring, God willing, and will probably take my old room. I’m not sure why the change of plans — the details were kind of vague, and Mom didn’t seem completely thrilled about it — but as for me, it’s an answer to prayer. I haven’t seen her since my conversion. Sure hope she’ll be able to notice a difference in me. I want to be a good witness
Allan and Mark were handing out liqueur-filled chocolates during Life of Elisha. I didn’t take one, but passed them to someone who did. Does that make me a better person? Or just as guilty as them?
