In the Land of Believers by Gina Welch

Author:Gina Welch
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781429944717
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

COMMUNITY INTEREST GROUPS WERE canceled Wednesday evening, and the church gathered in the sanctuary for a prayer service. Ushers handed out prayer sheets at the door—long lists of names of ministries, servicemen, missionaries, the sick, and the bereaved, and at the very top of the list, the names of the surviving members of the Falwell clan.

A pastor who looked like Elmer Fudd vivified and aged forty years brought the church to order, releasing the ushers to take a collection. He said that if they didn’t take a collection tonight, Dr. Falwell would send thunder and rain from heaven. It was already raining, and anemic laughter wafted up from the congregation like a thin trail of smoke.

The corpulent choir director sang “I Am Not Ashamed,” and then pastors took turns leading the congregation in prayer for each of Dr. Falwell’s surviving next of kin. The Elmer Fudd pastor led the prayers, talking about the first time he saw Macel in church. He remembered what she wore: a black velveteen dress with white lace trim. He took notice of her, he said with a smile. But Macel married Jerry and this pastor met his own wife. He now prayed to God that Macel would be lifted up to Him. A picture of Dr. Falwell and his widow glowed on the big screens.

Another pastor led a prayer for Jerry Jr. and his children, and referred to “JJ,” the new Liberty University chancellor. We prayed with a different leader for Dr. Falwell’s daughter, Jeanne, a doctor in Richmond whom Falwell always referred to as his “only perfect child.”

Ray Fletcher took the pulpit to pray for his best friend, Jonathan Falwell, who was expected to be named the new senior pastor at Thomas Road. Ray remembered when he started working security for Dr. Falwell many years before and he first met Jonathan, who was thirteen at the time. Ray traveled with Dr. Falwell and also worked at the Falwell residence. He remembered Dr. Falwell pointing to his redheaded teenage boy and saying, “That one’s your responsibility—watch over him.” Ray said he could now tell the story about bear hunting with Jonathan in Alaska, or flipping a golf cart at Ivy Hills, or choose one of any number of embarrassing chestnuts, but Jonathan was going to be senior pastor now, and Ray didn’t care to lose his job.

Two more pastors prayed, one for Liberty University and one for the church. Finally, the man who baptized me, Old Ray, closed us in prayer. He and his wife had been with the church for twenty-eight years, he said, and he came to the church because of Dr. Falwell’s heartbeat—getting people saved. That is still our work, he told us, and we must continue on.

I pondered Old Ray’s claim to know Dr. Falwell’s heartbeat. News commentators were already speculating on the sincerity of Falwell’s Christianity, the possibility that he was just a huge hypocrite, a con man. A friend of mine said she was surprised he wasn’t found dead on top of some hooker.

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