“The Church eras idea is Armstrong’s Mayan Calendar. It ends at Laodecia and it ends in death. Herbert was shrewd enough to make sure anything that came after him would be suspect and poisoned in the minds of his followers. Herbert Armstrong is the son of a bitch that created that idea. Herbert was so narcissistic he had to steal the thunder from those that would came after him.”

Bamboo_Bends on AW

Russ has mentioned on HMA that he’s closing up shop, and removing all of his content here (if anyone finding this blog after the fact wants the resultant gaps in any of our conversations filled in, email me).

To that end, with regards to the subject line of this post, I am putting all remaining material on ISA, as well as my earlier blog, the Purple Hymnal, under Creative Commons License. I am still getting a scattered email from the PH, and from remarks made by commenters here, I still feel strongly that we are a small piece of the puzzle of websites (including the better-known and more well-established ones like The Painful Truth and Ambassador Watch),that exist to help people in processing their exit from the church.

I also hope that ISA and the PH can provide a counterpoint; where PT and AW provide cold, hard facts, I would like to think that my posts will continue to provide catharsis, for some lonely child of the church, sitting up late at night after having read through most of the PT and AW. Or for some staunch ex-believer who finally realizes, “Maybe growing up in that church wasn’t as rosy as I thought it was.” Russ and I always seemed to be good counterpoints for one another in our posts (it wasn’t intentional on my part, but maybe that was why he invited me along for the ride, in the first place), and it’s my hope that someone stumbling on to these archives, or even the archives of the PH, will find the same catharsis that I did, in writing it all out.

As for our disparate reactions to the past, and moving on from it, I can honestly say I was never angry. OK, maybe I was self-righteously angry, after the changes first hit. I was also the one praying hard for “God” to correct “His Church”, so there’s that. I was considered a freak from another world when I was a child, but I can’t muster any anger about that because, in the first place, I would likely have been considered a freak regardless. Secondly, through it all, at least I remained faithful. Faithful to what is another can of worms entirely, but that’s not where I’m going with this post.

Yes, we were the closest thing to Christian supremacists that existed in advance of the Neo-Nazi movement. Yes, the church was a giant ponzi scheme designed to make one man, and one man only, rich beyond his wildest dreams (it worked). Yes, we were anti-Semitic in the extreme (The Jews got their own calendar wrong? Bitch, please.) and to frost that particularly toxic cake, we co-opted some of their rituals and all of their holy days, to boot.

And yet. And still. In a world where I was never accepted as “standard” or “like everyone else” or “normal”, I had the sense (even though it was misguided, as the deacons and their wives, to the very last one of them, all believed I was demon-possessed) that I was still OK.

Yeah yeah I was a precocious little shit, and more self-righteous than any child deserves to be. Also I was generally clueless about the world and religion as a whole. I expected Armageddon and Petra and a returned Kingdom of God before I was grown. (If I had stayed in one of the splinters, at the age I am now, I would seriously be starting to question.) But there were things my childhood taught me, things I never would have gained, if I did not have exactly the life I had, up to this very moment.

I learned perseverance in the face of opposition. I learned self-discipline (maybe at too early an age, but whatever). I learned self-worth, even if it was only a delusion. Not even a delusion shared by my fellow church-members, at that! I learned to take whatever life decided to throw at me, no matter how good, bad, or indifferent. I learned (the hard way) the cause-and-effect of black-and-white belief systems. I learned that I would not (and will not) be struck down by the hand of God if I talk about the church to the worldly or unconverted. (Still working on that with my family. Best let sleeping dogs lie sometimes.)

Am I angry about my past? No. Was I ever? Not really, since I didn’t get as bad a ride of it as others have. (More psychological, than physical, in my case.) I can’t even work up a righteous enough anger at the fact that it’s continuing, because the Armstrongist universe seems to be undergoing a geometrically exponential entropy, as time in this universe wears on. Soon, not soon enough or all too soon, the bubble will close completely. No one will remember the church or even the telecast or the PT, except those few survivors who were members.

Have I changed as a result of my two years on this and the other blogs and forums? I don’t know. I honestly don’t think I have. Changed, I mean. I haven’t done a 180 from where I stood two years ago. Also, in many respects, I think the church got it right, with regards to professing Christianity. Although I disagree with them that it’s evil or that makes the RCC the great whore of babylon. I also don’t believe in the church’s version of god either. I keep the Solstices under the guise of their Christianized celebrations (my family doesn’t ask and I don’t tell), but I was never, I am not now, and I never will be a Christian. I’m certainly OK with that, even though others are not.

Of all the emotions that I have worked through in the past couple years, the one that has been coming most to the forefront lately is wistfulness. I’m certainly not nostalgic, because there’s no way in hell I would go back to the church, supposing the Apocalypse really did happen, trumpets and vials and Wormwood and everything, live on TV. If I wake up after I’m dead, you can bet your bottom dollar I’m coming up in the Third Resurrection, and doing a swan dive into the Lake of Fire. Laughing all the way down. And you know what? I’m OK with that.

I am no longer focused on the future. I’m focused on my personal future, yes, and I’m coming to terms with that as I and my family members grow older and the world moves further around the wheel of time. I’m no longer waiting for a promised Kingdom that’s never going to come. I make my own life, such as it is, and I make what I can out of all that I have.

And yet. And still. When I lived a sheltered, blindered life, with my loudly-proclaimed black-and-white beliefs, things were so much simpler. I knew how my life was going to go, I knew how the world was going to end (and begin again with “new heavens and a new earth”). I knew the Bible (jigsaw) and I knew I was one of the chosen elect (sheep). I had an answer for every question of church doctrine, even though we were never questioned, because we never proselytized.

In a twisted, roundabout way, even though what I believed was hateful and vile and racist and misogynistic and bizarre, and even though I was always, always, always, treated like a second-class citizen in the church because I and my family were pariahs, when I believed, I was happy. That’s what I’m wistful for today. That sense of self-confidence, no matter how poisoned the source, that let me walk out into the world with my head held high. I certainly don’t have that anymore, for obvious reasons.

I’m lucky, and I’m thankful, that Joseph Tkach Sr., told me my church was false. It just added one more church to the list of religions that I already knew to be false. I would not be where I am today, if that sermon had never been given. I would never have been introduced to my extended family. I probably never would have had a career. I certainly would not have gotten any higher education, regardless of the spotty bit I have managed, on my own.

I would still be parking my butt in a rented union hall every Sabbath, singing the same old songs, and playing the same old waiting game. I would be happy, yes, but I would be clueless. Naive. Self-righteous. Puffed up. Oh so very certain that I was loved by God “anyway” and that I would be “healed” when Kingdom Come.

I don’t want happiness, at that high a price, but a part of me misses being happy. A part of me always will.

I know, I know, I’m moving on right? Well, I’m trying to, but this background research paper on the church by a journalist for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation is a fitting coda, I think. (Thanks to Gavin for the tip.)

I’ve progressed through a lot of emotions, over the last couple of years, as I have finally come to terms with what my childhood meant and resulted in for me. I freely admit, there are moments when I still regress, back to a comfortable and safe reaction. I’m trying to recognize that when I do it, and at least minimize the effects, if not necessarily eliminate them.

I have definitely reached a point where I can now accept that the church is an integral part of my past, and that it has shaped everything that I am. Whether or not that has negative or positive effects, here in the present however, is entirely my doing.

But read Scott Lupo’s paper. It is a good, neutral, and thorough overview of life lived, in a parallel universe, whose wormhole is shrinking closed, ever-so-slowly.

Soon, my friends, we will live entirely in a universe where there are, at best, a handful of small Church of God congregations (I include Junior’s fiefdom in this.) We will be the last survivors of an age that truly never was.

A bittersweet victory, to be certain, but one that provides a cautionary parable. We, alone, can stand outside of the control of other closed, high-demand groups, and say, “Wait, this doesn’t look good.” We have been here before, and we know what to watch for. We can be sentinels, based on our pasts, warning of petty prophets and false Armageddons, into the future.

Read Scott Lupo’s paper. It is a better coda to this site, than even I could provide.

Hey, it’s Russ again. I guess Aggie wants a break, and who can blame him/her? So, I’ll be minding the store. Expect no new posts until he/she’s ready to post again. I’ll be moderating comments and keeping the lights on, but expect no new posts for the near future.

So, I guess I’ll take this time to ask just one question of the readers of this site. I am considering removing my posts from the past (not Aggie’s), or at least making them unavailable. It’s a tricky proposition, it’s not about hiding the past at all, but it’s not where I am anymore and while I’m sure it serves a purpose, I’m not sure I want to keep them there. So what do you all think? Value, or not worth it? Or would it make more sense to just compress them up somewhere and make them available to those who really need it?

Things in my life that I am grateful for:

1. I have a well-paying job that I like that does not appear to be endangered (at this moment) by the fluctuating economy.

2. I own my own home, which is in a small community, where I am surrounded by family and friends.

3. My family loves me. Unconditionally. There are no “if onlys”, no rules or regulations or unrealistic expectations required for them to love me, nor do they place undue demands upon me to meet any such expectations.

4. I love my family deeply in return, in the same way.

5. All of my physical needs and requirements are met, even far exceeded, by my current level of income and chosen lifestyle. I have access to a vast wealth of resources that keeps me emotionally and physically grounded.

6. My intellectual and spiritual needs (which I believe are one and the same) are constantly being challenged, expanded, and I am free to explore them as I will, with absolutely and completely unfettered abandon.

7. I am not angry, nor am I bitter, about my past in the church. I never was either of those things, actually. The way things ended, just left me very, very confused.

I’m not confused anymore. And, looking back over the many and varied years of my life, I’ve got to say, it wasn’t all that bad. Sure, my life would have been different, if my family had not been involved in a toxic religion. But they were, and I was a true believer moreso than they even were, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. No amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth is going to change the past.

And really, why would I want to change the past? For better or worse, my past has made me everything that I am, or strive to be: Compassionate towards others, passionate about seeking justice for those who have been and are still being wronged, easily adaptable to change, ambitious, strong, and resilient, with a high level of perseverance, even in the face of adversities that would reduce others to quivering heaps of Jell-O.

I might have had those character traits regardless of whether or not I was born and raised in the church (the old nature versus nurture debate), but they might not have been expressed quite as strongly as they have been, if I had not lived exactly the life I have lived, up to this very moment.

And you know what? I AM free. I may not have had any lightning bolt epiphanies, I may not have created a personal god for myself, I may not have had that thunderstruck “moment of joy” others speak of — but I HAVE changed, in the twelve-plus years since I’ve exited the church. Not all at once, not in one fell swoop, but in tiny measures. A step at a time.

I am trying, and succeeding slowly, to not have unreasonable expectations. Things no longer have to be perfect, before they are just “OK”. And even if things are not OK, then it’s time to hunker down and practice those survival skills I’ve honed so well.

I have lived more places, in this country, than the average citizen may ever get to see, in a single lifetime. All of these places and people and events, even though I was “in the world but not of the world”, have shaped me into who I am today.

I don’t need any delirious, unreasonable, hysterical “joy”. Those kinds of highs are almost always accompanied by crashes. Sitting, and breathing, and getting through each day. Each morning brings another day, sometimes better, sometimes worse. This, alone, is consistent, for whatever fleeting amount of time I have left in this all-too-short average human lifespan.

I no longer feel pressured, nor tormented, nor do I feel any kind of “tug”, yea or nay, from Pascal’s Wager. I am by no means in some nirvana, blissed-out stoner state. But I have reached an equanimity with it all. ALL of it. It could be maturity, it could just be dog-tired, bone-deep weariness, but the pendulum has stopped swinging now. Things are not ALL good or ALL bad, with no resting state in between.

The world is hardly under any kind of devil’s dominion. Everything is a riot of colour, and sometimes, during the quiet and uneventful moments, things drift into a calming shade of grey. Fortunately never for too long. Everything in moderation, too much of anything can be toxic, etcetera, etcetera.

I have achieved, and am continuing to pursue, many of my major goals in life. I have done this, despite circumstances being aligned in such a way that I would have had perfect justification, in simply giving up.

I’m tenacious like that, for better or for worse. A stubborn streak left-over from the days when I clung to my toxic theology? Perhaps. I have dispensed with the theology, and can sometimes still be bull-headed (especially when I’m wrong), but for the most part, it has otherwise served me well, and I hope it will continue to do so.

I am constantly moving forward, even when it seems (to myself or others) that I am standing still.

“The teacher said to them, ‘When they ask you, what is the evidence of the Pleroma in you?’ Say to them, ‘It is motion and rest.’”

Motion and rest. Each has their uses. Each would be nothing without the other.

Am I deliriously happy, suffused with joy, over the moon with hysterical delight? No. But I’m not that type of person, anyway (and that really IS nature, not nurture).

Am I grateful for all the things I have done and seen and experienced, and all the places I have been in my life, good bad, or indifferent? Yeah, actually, I am.

What I have outlined above may not meet anyone else’s criteria for happiness. It doesn’t matter. After all, it is my happiness, not someone else’s, nor should I let it be defined or pre-judged, by other people with different perspectives and experiences.

Happiness is as happiness does. I think it’s time I got out a little more, and started practicing more of that motion, as opposed to rest.

Hat tip to Gavin, for pointing out PZ Myers going after UCG for their Google ads.

It says it takes two to four weeks to ship. As soon as I get mine, I’ll open up a thread here with the same title as the book, and we shall all join in a gleeful public evisceration of their crappy little booklet. If you’ve got a blog, put a critical dissection of the book there and send me the link, and I’ll add it to the post. We’ll give them publicity, all right, but it will be the harshest, nastiest, meanest publicity possible — we will do everything we can to make sure that when someone googles their organization or their booklet, all that comes back is a mountain of snarling contempt.

It’ll be fun.

You got that right!

My GOD Teddy let an ex-member’s comment through!!

Where’s Weinland?? That really IS a sign of the Apocalypse!!

The observant (Hah!) and non-observant alike will note, Teddy let Robert’s comment through ONLY in order for Teddy to be able to deliver an old-school ministerial smackdown, albeit with new school trinitarianism preaching.

The more things “change”, the more they stay the same…….

I notice Junior never refers to stories like THIS in his victim-blaming, half-assed “appy olly oggies”. Oh, but that’s right, it was Worldwide that did that shit, Junior’s church is bright and shiny new and NOT WORLDWIDE.

Pull the other one, Junior, it’s got fucking bells on.

If any of those tithe-sucking, cruise-taking, jet-setting fat bastards still in charge of WCG/GCI/PT/ORM’s “assets” (read, criminally misappropriated funds) had REALLY found the Jebus they’re STILL beating their poor deluded sheeples about the head with to try and convert them (best of luck with that Junior, if the local congregation here is any indication, you’re not even CLOSE), they would refer to this video BY NAME, and ADMIT that this is the way the church was — and they would apologize for THAT.

Instead of making some “Well, we TRIED,” whining little prayer pledge for dollars from the deluded.

Fuck you Junior. Talk to me when you’ve got even a scintilla of remorse for what your father and his idol put us all through.

We are the children of the church.

Part 1

Given the whitewashing of Basil Wolverton’s indoctrination materials, for those who can’t stomach the thought of reading through the material again, below the cut I present 87 excerpts, from all six volumes of The Bible Story. Not quite as text-free as Mont’s little money-maker for GCI, one gets more of a sense of the context and thoroughness of the thought-reform engendered by these books, with the captions included. Something “The Wolverton Bible” conveniently left out. Possibly because it would have gotten a “hard R” rating, otherwise.

On books that were distributed to families with pre-school children.

more…

Given the whitewashing of Basil Wolverton’s indoctrination materials, for those who can’t stomach the thought of reading through the material again, below the cut I present 87 excerpts, from all six volumes of The Bible Story. Not quite as text-free as Mont’s little money-maker for GCI, one gets more of a sense of the context and thoroughness of the thought-reform engendered by these books, with the captions included. Something “The Wolverton Bible” conveniently left out. Possibly because it would have gotten a “hard R” rating, otherwise.

On books that were distributed to families with pre-school children.

more…