She was sad when her daughter went to North Carolina, but she knew if she’d gone to Florida it would’ve meant the end of Suzanne’s marriage. Suzanne had grown up without a father, and she didn’t want her children to suffer that fate.
Wanda recalled the first time she heard Jane Whaley’s name. A month or so after the Coopers settled in, Wanda sent nine-year-old Lena a pair of shiny white ankle boots. Soon after, during a church service, Jane criticized Suzanne for letting her daughter wear “go-go boots” to church.
“Parents, God cares what we wear and what we allow our children to wear,” Whaley said. “We’ve got to mind how our children are dressed.”
Embarrassed, Suzanne called her mother after the service and told her what had happened.
“The preacher stopped the church service to tell you that Lena wasn’t dressed right?” Wanda asked.
“Yes. I don’t know what to think,” her daughter said. “They’re just a fun pair of little-girl shoes.”
“Goodness, I don’t think I would want to go to a church where they tell you how you can dress your kids,” Wanda said.
Suzanne was quiet for a moment. “Well, it’s not that bad,” she said softly. “I just didn’t expect it. But maybe they are too grown-up a look for a little girl. Jane was probably right.”
Wanda had come to North Carolina to cuddle the new baby, but while she was in town she decided to see Jane Whaley for herself.
The Sunday service was weirder than Wanda could have imagined. In the sanctuary there were no windows, no natural light. No pews. The wall-to-wall burgundy carpet was covered in rows of stackable chairs. Five steps led up to a stage with a big arrangement of artificial flowers. A lectern—Jane’s pulpit—stood in the middle, surrounded by drab white walls. Ornate bronze chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
The congregation was striking. Everyone was dressed in suits, ties, dresses, and heels, like they were attending a wedding or a funeral. Back in Ocala, many churchgoers wore jeans. The preachers Wanda knew didn’t care what people wore, as long as they showed up on Sunday morning.
Recorded music filled the room, and at the crescendo, Jane Whaley swept to the pulpit like a movie star at a premiere. Whaley looked the part, Wanda thought, with that white St. John Knits dress and a tailored jacket, a thick gold necklace, and bracelets on each wrist. Her fingers sparkled with diamonds.
She stepped to the pulpit, and the service took a surreal turn, a strange mix of Home Shopping Network and televangelist Tammy Faye Bakker. The glamorous preacher pulled a pair of ladies’ shoes from behind the lectern and lifted them up to show the congregation.
“God is speaking to us today,” she shouted. “Who has it in their heart that these belong to you?”
A woman raised her hand. “I feel led to have those shoes,” she said.
What the hell? Wanda thought.
Whaley presented another pair of shoes, which were quickly claimed by another congregant. Then a belt, and a blouse. Wanda scratched her head. Is this church, or an auction?
Whaley and Brooke Covington, her most trusted confidante, loved shopping for bargains at discount clothing stores. They often brought their booty to church services and “shared the blessings” with the community, Suzanne explained later.
When her shopping bag was empty, Whaley opened with a Bible verse and began to preach. But to Wanda, it was more of a public shaming than a sermon. One after the other, Whaley singled out her followers, using Scripture to describe the sin in their lives. When time came for the offering, the plate was sent around the church three times.
Wanda felt a chill creep down her spine. There is evil in this room, she thought.
When the service ended, Jane Whaley’s followers fawned over her, but Whaley often didn’t return their kindness. She was cruel, lashing out at some of them, scolding others. Wanda had seen enough.
That night she sat down with Suzanne.
“Do y’all know God or do you just know this woman?” Wanda asked. “I mean, what is going on in this church?”
“What do you mean, Mom?” Suzanne asked.
“Well, y’all treat Jane like she is some kind of star. Some kind of prophet. I mean, what is all that stuff about God telling people to buy a pair of shoes? It’s crazy.”
“Oh, Mom, Jane wants us to have nice things—maybe we’d never be able to afford a pair of shoes like that, or we’d never buy them for ourselves. This way, we can have nice things, and support the ministry, too. Try to understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Help me to understand.”
“If you stayed here longer, you would get it. It just hasn’t been put on your heart yet what the church is trying to do. The church is saving people’s lives. We have a prison ministry. We visit nursing homes. We help drug addicts and alcoholics.”
“That’s fine, Suzanne, but I get a bad feeling about Jane. It’s like she wants to control everybody.”
“Well, look how great the kids are doing,” Suzanne said. “They’re getting a great education. And most important, they are learning to be godly people.”
Wanda pressed on. “Maybe, Suzanne, but there’s just something about this place that isn’t right. What do you really know about this woman? What do you really know about this place?”
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” she said. She stood up abruptly and went to her room.
Wanda had a hard time sleeping that night. She blamed Rick for getting her daughter and grandchildren into this mess. Back in 1982, Wanda had spent a month in Honolulu after Suzanne gave birth to Jeffrey, her first child. She remembered being jolted awake in the mornings by the sound of Rick casting the devil out of the house. Her new son-in-law had bought into a doctrine of devils and deliverance long before he joined Word of Faith Fellowship.
“I command you, Satan!” he’d shouted. “Get out of this house, in the name of Jesus!”
Religious drama was nothing new in Wanda’s part of America, and it had never done her much harm. She believed in God, but she’d never been one to pound on a Bible.
When Wanda had her own family, she let her girls go to church when they wanted. At one point a church bus came and picked them up every week, but as they got older, they lost interest. It never bothered Wanda.
She had her own relationship with the Lord. She saw God all around her, in the kindness of strangers and the beauty of nature. She could look up to the sky and think, That’s God’s ceiling right there. Thank You, Lord. The created world was God’s church. Staring at the ocean, she could feel God in her bones. A relationship with the Almighty was a gentle, personal thing, Wanda thought, and faith was not something that should be rammed down anyone’s throat.