“Line up against the wall,” our father directs. We are trembling. “We need to talk to you about a very serious matter. You are here to witness the punishment. Esther, do you want to explain what happened?”
“Well, I discovered some money was missing from my purse. I didn’t know who had taken it, until the candy kiosk owner outside the school said that Mary had bought some candy from him. I asked Mary about it, and she denied it.” Mommy Esther is wringing her hands. “So, I looked in her room and found the candy wrappers under her mattress.” She winds up with a sad and angry expression.
“So,” my father booms, “Mary not only stole money”—we gasp in shock—“She bought candy”—the forbidden white sugar we are not allowed to touch—“And then to make matters far worse, she lied about it! Repeatedly.”
I am shocked to my bones. This is an extensive litany of crimes. How could she do such things? Or think she could get away with it all? Of course, she must be punished.
My father has read us Grandpa’s instructions on spanking many times, and he follows them to the letter:
Disciplining a child is hard work. Spanking & lecturing & punishing & keeping up with a child & catching him in everything he’s done wrong is hard work.
You can’t let them get away with a thing; otherwise, you’ll end up with a spoiled child who thinks he can get away with murder!
The Bible says spare not the child for his crying. Remember when child-training the Chastening. A child not only has to love you, but he’s also got to be controlled through fear, he has to fear you & not be allowed to get away with anything.
“Mary, come here,” our father bellows.
Mary walks out from my parents’ room, where she had been awaiting punishment. My siblings and I are practically holding our breath. No one has done something this bad before.
Mary steps into the room, shaking.
“Come here, Mary,” our father repeats solemnly. I can see she wants to run away with all her might, but she walks slowly forward to the center of the room, where he is waiting next to a stool. In his right hand is the dreaded Rod of God.
“Pull your pants down and lean over the stool.”
Mary starts to cry. “I’m so, so sorry,” she pleads. “I’ll never do it again, I promise, I promise, I promise.”
The adults’ faces are impassive. She has broken the law; she will be punished. “No, you won’t, because you will never forget this spanking. Bend over.”
With shaking hands, she drops her shorts and panties. She can’t escape. She leans over the stool and grips the legs with knuckles gone white.
“I’m going to give you one hundred swats, and you are going to count them.”
We gasp in horror. No one has ever gotten one hundred swats from our father. Ten or twenty for horrible crimes like lying or breaking something. But Mary’s crimes are compounded: disobedience, stealing money, buying candy, lying, and lying about lying. He calculates twenty swats for each crime and adds them up to one hundred matter-of-factly.
Thwack! I jerk at the first swat.
Mary yells.
“Count!” my father commands.
“One,” her teary voice escapes.
Thwack.
“Two.”
Thwack.
Mary screams, and her hands automatically reach behind to cover her bottom.
“Move your hands,” our father barks. “If they get in the way, I might accidently break them.”
Mary whimpers as she grips the stool again.
“Three.”
Thwack.
Mary’s cries are getting louder and louder.
“Be quiet!” he thunders. “Screaming just shows your rebellion has not been chastised out of you! If you keep screaming, you get more.”
Mary gulps, trying to hold back the screams. How can she not scream? I watch, wide-eyed with terror, as the paddle comes down again and again, and we methodically count. Even more frightening is my inability to control my emotions. I’m horrified to realize I want to laugh hysterically. I cover my mouth, trying desperately to hold in this laugh that is trying to tear its way out of me.
This is not funny. I’m not happy. I’m desperately scared. If anyone sees me, I’ll be on the chopping block next. So, you think that’s funny, do you? I can hear my father’s scream in my head.
This is wrong. Something is wrong. Mommy Esther, who is usually passive, starts squirming. At fifty swats, Mommy Ruthie tries to speak. “Maybe that’s enough. I’m sure she’s learned her lesson.”
“No. I said one hundred, and she will get one hundred,” he says, his lips pulled back in a parody of a grin as he continues relentlessly.
I look down at the stool legs, which shake with every blow. I dare not look away. There is the faintest veiled threat; one wrong look or sound, even a leg scratch, and I could be next. The air vibrates with anger. “This is for all of you to learn from Mary’s mistakes.”
My father is exhausted after the hundred swats. Mary hangs limp, whimpering, snot and drool dripping from her face, stretching to the red-tiled floor.
He gives her a hug. “This is for your own good. ‘Whom the Lord loves, He rebukes and chastens.’ Hebrews 12:6.”
Mommy Esther grabs Mary and hurries her into the bedroom to take care of her and put her to bed. We all stand still, frozen.
“I want you kids to remember that. Now, go to bed.”
For the first time in my memory, we go to bed in absolute silence. No one daring to speak. But we all are a little nicer to Mary for the next few weeks. We are also a little in awe of her surviving that spanking. It can hurt to sit down for a few days after even ten swats. Our father might be slight, but he is a strong man.
We’ve learned our lesson for now. Money is not for us. It belongs to God, and woe be to any kid who takes some.
6
Heavenly Houris
Family members from the entire Asia Pacific area—Macau, Hong Kong, even a few from the Philippines and Japan—are gathering in Hac Sa for a General Area Fellowship, or GAF. It’s a week of prayer, fellowship, and sharing. Three years after the RNR, Grandpa began the Fellowship Revolution, having decided the disciples’ independence had gone far enough. He created more Home Rules, fellowship requirements for local and regional Home gatherings, and a stratified leadership structure.
Local Area Fellowships (LAF) are monthly gatherings of just the Homes in your local area; in our case that’s about thirty Family members living in Macau, but we might have a GAF only once or twice a year. It’s a special occasion! Our Fellowships are getting bigger as more members arrive to help pioneer the region and new Chinese disciples join.