Getting Fired Taught Me a Frightening Lesson

I got fired about fifteen years ago for a lack of integrity as a Christian. At least that was the charge leveled at me, though I received no concrete examples of poor behavior, nor could I think of any. I was a single mom of four girls and worked as instructor at the local state university as my main occupation.  In the mornings, in exchange for tuition for all four girls, I taught two hours of junior and senior English at a local private Christian school.  Right away I noticed that tension pervaded the school.  The principal seemed gracious, but the vice principal, who I will call Janine, was a very intense woman.  She seemed athletic, always spoke in ringing accents, and was put together from her highlighted short hair to her matching outfits.

We met for prayer before school each morning.  We didn’t spend much of the fifteen minutes in prayer.  Janine always had what she seemed to view as a life lesson for us.  I remember one time she seemed offended by a young man at her church who wore one of those long key chains on his belt and had a tattoo.  It was disrespectful to God, she said.  I wondered at the time if God really had a dress code.  If He did, He sure didn’t communicate it to any of the churches I attended growing up in California.  But this was Kentucky, so I simply accepted it as a cultural expectation.

A mother of one of the students at the school became ill with cancer.  It became apparent that she was going to die quickly.  Her cancer quickly became an obsession with Janine.  I did not witness Janine’s behavior towards the mother, but the rumors were that she was convinced that the woman had cancer due to unconfessed sin in her life.  I dismissed those rumors as ridiculous.  People get cancer.  Kids get cancer.  The why is not for us to know or judge.

I bonded affectionately with my little English classes.  The students quickly warmed to me, and I really enjoyed leading them through the curriculum I was given.  They warned me that I was too nice to be at that school, that all the nice teachers did not last past one semester.  They expressed almost a hatred for Janine.  I discouraged discussion of the topic, but privately, I worried about the hostility on the part of the students.

Towards the end of what would be my only semester there, Janine was waxing eloquent on the topic of cancer.  It was the first time I heard her address the subject.  I held my tongue.

  “Where is the glory of God in someone dying of cancer?” she asked in what I had come to call her preacher’s voice.  

At that moment there was only her daughter and me in the room for prayer.  She looked at me very intensely after asking that unanswerable question.  I did not say anything. I was tempted to make the suggestion we go to Louisville Children’s Hospital so she could explain to the children there what they had done to deserve cancer.  I felt such revulsion in my spirit at that moment.  I am sure she could read it in my face, though I remained silent.

The next day, I was informed that I would no longer be teaching at that school, but that my children could remain for free. I did not take advantage of that offer but moved them immediately. I was given no concrete reason except that God had told Janine that I lacked integrity as a Christian.

Years later I would recognize this as spiritual abuse, but at the time, I was devastated and humiliated. 

I went to gather my things downstairs.  My students knew immediately what had happened and started to complain bitterly about the vice principal.  Still numb, I sat them down, and we prayed earnestly for the school, for Janine, for the lady with cancer.  I asked them to forgive Janine, and they did.  They repented for their bitter words towards her.  I thought the story ended there at the time.

That summer, I received a call from one of the parents.  Moved by our prayers over the school as relayed by his daughter, he wanted me to know the latest news.  The school, he informed me, went completely bankrupt unexpectedly.  The pastors in the area came to the school and offered to take over on the condition that Janine left the premises immediately.  I admit to a certain pleasure at that piece of information. Again, I was pretty sure the story ended there.

Several years later, I was living back in California, but had returned to Kentucky for a visit.  At a large Fourth of July gathering, I was having some small talk with a lady I had just met.  After a few minutes, we realized we had both taught at that school.  She remembered the vice principal and had some run-ins with her.  I told her my story.  She looked at me for a moment and then asked if I knew that Janine had died nearly two years previously of cancer.  It took a moment for me to respond.

I came to the realization that while Janine was persecuting that poor mother whose body was eaten up with cancer, she herself probably had a cancerous tumor and did not know it.

I suppose I learned several lessons from this story.  I learned that Pharisees could be dangerous, for that is how I came to think of Janine.  I avoid making pronouncements, because making big statements is often a way to appear foolish.  But mostly, I learned that the way of humility keeps us safe.  Was Janine’s cancer some grand karma?  I try not to ask unanswerable questions like that.  But I do know that while Janine was judging her sister in Christ, God was indeed aware that Janine had cancer.  I do not believe that He took any pleasure in the fact, knowing His love for all men and women who are called to His purposes. I don’t believe God gives people cancer to punish them.

It is rare, I believe, to see a story resolve thus in real life.  Most of the time, our dramas do not come full circle but peter out gradually, leaving us without an ending.  I can’t help but be grateful that the Lord removed me from what clearly had the potential to become abusive.  The warning, however, to be gracious, avoid judgment, and walk humbly has stayed with me since.

Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.  Luke 6:37