I Rescued My Husband from a Modern Day Jezebel
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I grew up a country girl in Meridian, Mississippi. So when I realized my life’s ambition of marrying the man of my dreams and moving with him to the big city of Dallas, Texas, I thought I had arrived.
I wasn’t prepared for the pressures that big city living and our new situation there would create.
Jim worked as a preacher. More specifically, he served as the young adult pastor of a successful Dallas megachurch.
Jim put in long hours at the church. And I found it intimidating to be a pastor’s wife in such a tight knit community. The congregation seemed very focused on me. And I learned later this is to be expected in such a highly visible position.
I soon became concerned that my every word and action were being scrutinized.
The Pressure of Fitting In
On one occasion, I cracked a slightly inappropriate joke at a women’s study group and was told this was not the kind of example a pastor’s wife should be setting.
On another, an older female member of the congregation came up to me following one of my husband’s sermons and suggested that perhaps my skirt was a bit too short!
The level of preoccupation with what I said and even what I wore unnerved me.
Jim, of course, was always supportive. But I sensed even in our private moments he wished I would make a greater effort to meet expectations.
Matters soon took a decidedly worse turn when a younger female member of the congregation began making obvious overtures towards my husband.
Enter Jezebel
It started when she began hanging around to ask my husband questions after a few of his sermons.
Then she started showing up in one of his weekly Bible study classes. She seemed only a few years younger than I but had the long brown hair and dark eyes I know my husband prefers.
She soon began volunteering as an assistant in the class. And though Jim assured me the relationship was innocent, I became increasingly concerned.
One night when he was an hour late getting home from one of these events, I became suspicious and drove to the church. I crept up to a lighted window and there I saw them – my loving husband and this younger woman (let’s call her Cassie) in a deep and seemingly intimate conversation.
I felt crushed. I wanted to burst into the room demanding explanations, but instead I turned and stumbled back to the car.
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Betrayed
I felt the tears streaming down my face. All the way home my cheeks felt hot – even with the air-conditioner cranked to maximum.
I soon realized what I was feeling was not the sweltering heat of a summer night in June. Instead the sensation turned out to be the sting of betrayal by a man I considered my soulmate.
When Jim finally arrived home, I lost all ability to hide how I felt. I told him what I had seen and demanded to know what was going on between him and Cassie.
He became evasive and annoyed but eventually shot back that what I witnessed was only his efforts to counsel a troubled member of the congregation – a young woman in a spiritual crisis.
Cassie – he said – came to the church from a difficult childhood and a life of drug addiction.
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Suspicions Remain
Lately, she began to fall in with old associates and old habits and feared backsliding after turning her life around.
I remained suspicious. Other members of the congregation told me similar stories about this young woman. But I couldn’t fight the growing suspicion that my husband was falling under her spell.
That night I lay awake in bed as my husband snored beside me. I remembered again my life on that little farm outside Meridian, Mississippi and the lessons I learned there.
“Men are no good two timing galoots,” my Memaw used to tell me. “They’re fools around other women and the only thing you can do is to focus on holdin’ on to your man by any means necessary.”
I kept thinking about my Memaw’s words all the next day. I did love Jim. But holding on to him would take effort. Even if I had to protect him from himself.
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My Great Idea
Then suddenly I came up with a great idea. The church was putting on a new musical called The Book of Kings in a few weeks.
I knew the lady in charge of the production and asked her if I could borrow one of the costumes for just a few days.
That night when my husband arrived home, he got quite a surprise! As he walked in the front door, I stood there waiting – wearing the costume of Jezebel from the church play.
The costume designer had created an outfit that amply displayed my – ahem – assets including a loosely fitting blouse with plunging neckline and bare midriff and loose fitting pants tapered at the ankles but tight in the waist and butt.
As soon as Jim’s eyes locked on me one eyebrow raised.
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“Well, well. What’s this?” he asked.
“I asked them to model one of the costumes from the church play,” I replied. “But when I saw myself in the mirror, I felt quite guilty.”
“I can see why,” Jim said, moving closer and smiling.
“I guess I’m the one who needs counseling tonight.” I said, smiling back.
I won’t get into the details of what happened later that night. Suffice it to say I don’t really worry much about my husband these days. He spends a lot more of his time at home with me and a lot less time with Cassie.
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