Journal 2006

In the news this week: the head of a national Christian organization falls from grace after preaching about moral failure. I’ve been thinking about how preachers (okay, I’ll make it personal—how I) tend to protest too much or preach the loudest about the very thing I struggle with.

This reminds me of the time Scott and I were staying at a hotel in North Carolina when the fire alarm screamed in the middle of the night. Scott took his time getting out the door. He wanted to get dressed first, go to the bathroom, and find his wallet. He said he saw no smoke and felt no heat, so he wasn’t worried.

I, on the other hand, panicked and urged him to flee immediately. I had visions of us perishing in the fire together if I waited for him, thus leaving our children to fend for themselves as orphans. It was a double-bind: follow my husband’s lead and die together or follow my instincts and run? My choice was to leave without him and let him come at his leisure. But as I descended the third flight of stairs, guilt set in that I had abandoned him, and I slowed my pace. Why wasn’t he catching up to me? Did he have a heart attack? Did his bad knees give way? Did he need my assistance?

What I didn’t know was that we had each chosen a different stairway to descend. In the end, we both got to safety—even though there was no danger from a fire. It was a false alarm.

If I had to do it over again, I think I’d wait for Scott. In fact, the next time it happened, this time in Chattanooga, we took our time and went down together (yup, another false alarm).

So how does this story relate to the fallen preacher? We all need transparency and accountability in our struggles. We’re safer when we do life together.

A 2025 Update. As I read back over this entry, I admit I’m not sure about my conclusion in this double bind. Was I really safer waiting for Scott? I don’t know, but I do know it felt less stressful to stay together.