WHEN MY HUSBAND AND I bought a new home two years ago, it seemed like just the right step—more space, an office where I could work at home, and finally, a long-desired guest room. Also, we could reduce the amount of driving we needed to do and save on gas. Our intention was to purchase the new home contingent on selling the former one, but the bank's mortgage agent convinced us that we could rent our former home and still afford to buy the new one. So we went along with the plan.
The agent asked us to fill out a rental agreement contract for the first home, to show that we had rented it. When we told him that we hadn't rented it successfully, he advised us to fill out the form anyway, making up a fictitious name. When we protested, he said this was an accepted practice and was the only way for us to qualify for the loan. When I reiterated that I was uncomfortable with this idea, he convinced me that it was only a formality. A realtor we knew said she had seen it done often as well.
By this time we were already significantly into the paperwork of the transaction, so I rationalized that this was obviously a new code of business practice and that I was being prudish for being so uncomfortable over such a small matter. As a student of Christian Science, I normally pray about important decisions. In retrospect, I see that I was being led to pray deeply—but I didn't. Instead of turning humbly to God for direction, human arguments persuaded me that the ends of having the new house justified the means. We submitted the form using a fictitious name—and we got the loan and the new home.
