By Ferne Carter Chapman

Tacoma, Washington

Herein lies the mystery of it all! Why, I wondered had I not met Edna Miriam Lister when she was at the "peak" of her ministry in Cleveland, Ohio? My navy shipmates and I dined monthly, at the Statler Hotel, downtown Cleveland, walked past the Cleveland Plain Dealer office daily, went to the opera several times, to the Cleveland Stadium, directly outside the gate of the U.S. Coast Guard base, "Captain of the Port," and cavorted around the downtown Cleveland area for well over a year. I then joined the masses who celebrated V-J day, the end of World War II, in the streets of Cleveland.

What I did not know then seems quite logical now. It was not yet "the appointed time." "For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succored thee: behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation" (II Corinthians, 6:2). It took a while to figure that out.

As it so happened, I was not only mustered out of the U.S. Coast Guard Women’s Reserve, but was married, and a mother of two teenage children. Every conceivable stumbling block had been not only permitted by God, but were God-provided. In some ways, it seems so long ago that I actually caught my first glimpse of Edna Lister, yet in other ways, it seems like yesterday.

To look at the outer circumstances of the meeting, it began with an invitation to a church luncheon, by Darcea Scheisl, who was a member of Truth Temple. Apprehension began to set in as I caught sight of the old church. It was situated in the heart of the Hill Top area of Tacoma. By all appearances, it was a candidate for demolition and the wrecking ball. We descended the stairs to the lower level of the church. There was no need to close the door – the force of autumn wind gusted, and fiercely slammed the door behind us – an announcement anyone could have done without.

When I saw the scene before me, I thought, this must be how Elijah felt when he hid at the brook of Cherith. It was a conglomerate of poverty-line participants from all walks of life. Inside, several elderly ladies, wearing full-cover aprons, were engaged in the "Martha work" (kitchen details), while others gathered around a long table cutting and stitching a colorful array of pot- holders and aprons. A few, it appeared, were street wanderers who came for food and shelter. The group turned out to be an assortment of seekers, some proponents of "healing arts" and the use of colored lights, stones, and the like. All, like myself, gathered to be bathed in her Light.

Until that time, according to my estimation, I was the subject and the predicate of my own life. Beyond the shock of the scene, and the many tables, I saw her.

She was seated calmly against the far wall, near the platform. She definitely stood out from the crowd. She appeared to be about five feet, four inches tall. Her hair was turning from a warm brown to shimmering gray about the temples. Her masterful hazel-blue eyes seemed to look nowhere, yet everywhere. She was composed, elegant, and appealing. She was dressed in a light-colored dress cut to simple lines, which enhanced her small frame. A large square lime-green cocktail handkerchief, caught by one corner in her jade Tree-of-Life ring, draped to one side of her lap. She had a pleasant and refined appearance. She appeared to be genuinely sensible, and a woman of mysterious Substance. (Especially, thought I, in comparison to the overall view of the group gathered here).

Above her head was a small painting of "The Gleaners" (Naomi and Ruth were depicted as gleaners of grain in the fields of Boaz). The lady seemed not to notice either the commotion going on around her, or the continuous banging of the door as more guests arrived.

Soon, as was the custom, we adjourned to the library, which they dubbed The Prayer Room. Six or seven of us entered the room along with Edna Lister. We sat in a semicircle around the room. Edna Miriam gave the devotional. When she offered prayer, I was certain the "clouds had parted." A new dimension opened at that precise moment. I peeked an eye open to see if she were actually a real person. Much to my astonishment, she was looking directly into my eyes. Her eloquent and startling prayer, with its steely strength of purpose had aroused the roots of my soul. It was like striking one match in a book of matches, and all exploded into flame. Her purpose was to light a fire under everyone present (some to register immediately, still others, to register at their "appointed time").

The ever-so-simple luncheon was served. Then they opened the program with the hymn, "Nearer My God to Thee." When the speaker stepped to the podium, her opening statement was: "That puts us right back where we started in the beginning." The message was the Real Creation Story. Never had I heard such a history, either inside, or outside the church. It was electrifying. All I knew about the Kingdom at that point, was the Adam and Eve story, as related in orthodox teachings, and of course Mamma’s philosophy concerning wet fabric. "This fabric," she would say, "can stretch from here to kingdom come."

The program ended, but the speaker was not finished with me yet. She issued an invitation for me to have an individual counseling session with her. This was to take place at the Winthrop Hotel on Broadway and 9th, Tacoma, Washington. I began to realize, at that session, how the "woman at the well" must have felt, when Jesus told her everything she’d ever done. Not quite all things I had done, but enough that allowed me to know that this was not a vague guessing game. She further related the relationship between my father and me, and truths about his recent transition.

She also stated, "There will be no leaving the " church." At that time, my husband Jack and I worked in two churches. One, in which I was the Adult Sunday School teacher (a class in which the students appeared to know more than the teacher), and we were involved in helping a young minister feed the homeless, furnish the downtown mission with appliances and furniture, and generally being of assistance where we could. Her message concerning the young minister caused my eyes to blink in amazement, "He lives in fear due to crystallized soul substance. Let Jack take the fore with him, not in discussing religion, but just being his friend. Your role is Silence and serving as the conduit for the Father to pour through the Power, to bring him back in balance, and to melt and dissolve his fears."

The messages became greater as I grew (hopefully in stature). Service at Truth Temple was laborious. It came close to being the Twelve Labors of Hercules.

My "Prime Time" with Edna Lister extended over only a few contacts, including both personal and audience participation. I remember her saying that downtown Tacoma was cleansed of evil, and she and the Father were now working up the hill to the worst area. That was difficult for me to take in, since I was still working from appearance, not remembering that "Faith is the evidence of things not seen."

The story of Truth Temple shows that Edna Miriam Lister followed the precise pattern of Jesus: She was the Light that called the poor the weak, the lame and downtrodden to a higher place in the Kingdom than they could, by themselves, attain. She, like Jesus taught how holiness may be attained, and when it is lost, how it may again be attained again. She consulted no other authority or oracle, but simply stated, "Thus saith the Lord." She paved the road into the Kingdom of Heaven for me and for "all who would hear." She is the genuine "Leaven" for All Heaven and Earth.