Isn't Christianity a Cult?

 My previous post dealt with cults but some folks could claim that Christianity is one. After all, one man originated it. This isn't the case for Christianity, as I explain below.

Christ fulfilled Old Testament prophecies. Being of the lineage of King David and born of a virgin, he fulfilled many messianic prophecies.

Jesus also perfectly fulfilled the law of Moses, the only one to do so. The Pharisees tried to dig up dirt on Christ but they couldn't find a single thing which would disqualify him from being the long-sought saviour.

Jesus often referred to the Old Testament. Never once did he disparage or misquote those scriptures. Instead, he said that they spoke of him.

Neither did Jesus write a book. Mohammed, Joseph Smith, and others have claimed to have had special revelations but their writings were flawed.

Though Christ instituted holy communion and baptism for Christians, the moral code of the Old Testament is a part of the Christian faith.

Two writers of the New Testament wrote eyewitness accounts of Christ's life, death, and resurrection. Had they made it up, they would never have kept to their story in the face of execution and torture.

Cults refute many basic tenets of the faith they originated from. Apart from ceremonies which were types and shadows of Christ's work on Earth, the New Testament upholds the Old Testament.

Many people don't understand this difference. This is why I wrote How I Was Razed. Be sure to check out this glorious story of God's providential guidance.

In my next post, I'll deal with why the four gospel accounts differ. Atheists think it proves they aren't true.

How Do Cults Twist Scriptures?

 As I've blogged before, there's a proper way to read the Bible. When we take culture, history, and genre of each book into account, we won't go wrong.

Unfortunately for many new Christians, they don't know the difference between studying the Bible and twisting it to fit one's own ideas. This is why cults seek out new believers since they're easy to fool.

Here's one of the most-often-twisted verses:

(Matthew 18:18 KJV)  Verily I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

Charismatic preachers and deliverance ministries take this to mean that we have the power to bind and loose demons. That's completely wrong. Look at the context and you'll see that Jesus was speaking about disciplining errant believers. Nothing in that verse even hints at demons.

Some fools have even taken the following verse to mean that they should cut off limbs that "offend" them:

(Mat 5:30 KJV)  And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.

Christ used that as a graphic metaphor to say that whatever lures us into sin should be shunned. Sadly for some, they took the verse literally instead of literately.

I was one of those naive seekers who ended up in a cult. Nobody taught me how to read the Bible correctly. Check out my account of finding out the truth in How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. You'll easily see  that the false teacher taught me complete rubbish.

In my next blog post, I'll explain how cults get away with misleading people.

HOW THE TRUST THIEF STOLE MY CONFIDENCE

One trait  of mine is that I'm too trusting. I have the nasty habit, if you want to call it that, of believing folks and giving them the benefit of the doubt. This has led me into many situations where wicked people abused my trusting nature.

When I was in public school, other children would try to steal things from me to see if I'd notice. I've also had them deny that my possessions had been taken by them. I was fortunate whenever teachers caught the thieves with my things.

Even my parents betrayed my trust. I didn't realize that I'd be stuck in a boarding school for months at a stretch when Mom told me I'd be going to a new school in Vancouver. I had no idea that British Columbia's west coast was five-hundred miles away and I don't remember being told how long I'd be there.

An even worse abuse of my trust happened a few years after I gave my life over to Christ. Having no discernment skills, I ended up in a cultic house church. They taught me many blasphemous doctrines and claimed they were advanced truths which few churches knew.

The worst abuse was the constant nagging by elders to keep my faith up so I'd be healed of my poor vision. Many people laid hands on me and prayed in tongues during the fifteen years I attended that pseudo-church, yet my vision only grew worse.

It was that lie which angered me so much that I rejected God for nine years. I finally came to realize that what those people taught me about God was absolutely wrong. He doesn't set impossible faith goals for us to reach, Neither is he limited by our doubts.

I see now that the Devil uses ignorant Christians to shipwreck the faith of people such as myself. I was so eager to be healed but those cruel congregants condemned me for lacking faith, having hidden sin, lusting for sight, and having ancestral sin blocking my healing. In truth, I did my best to believe but the Lord decided to work through my disability for his glory. John 9:3 is now my life verse because I know the real character of the Heavenly Father.

I called my most recent book
How I Was Razed because those tools of Satan razed me but God raised me out of that iniquitous cult. Read more about this glorious testimony at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Powell's Books.

YOU'VE LEFT THE GROUP, NOW WHAT?

Do you feel embarrassed because you were in a cult? Please don't feel that way. Many otherwise-clear-thinking individuals have been fooled by false claims. Often times, what was initially a friendly group becomes a spiritual and even physical trap.

Realizing the need, some caring ex-cult members have set up groups designed to be a safe place for former members to belong to. Because most Christian churches still lack the insight and compassion to help those who were spiritually abused, various groups are taking up the slack.

The Cult FAQ site is one of many which provide excellent resources. Links on the main page take seekers of emotional and spiritual help to sites providing everything they need to know. I wish I had access to these resources when I left the aberrant house church that abused my trusting nature for more than fifteen years.

As for the types of cults which people have been trapped in, the Cult Watch site is loaded with information. This resource is good for exiting members but it also helps relatives of those caught in abusive organizations.

The Cult Help site also contains an extensive list of cult reviews and information on various "isms." A dash of humor is also added by the site owner to lighten things up. In addition to Christian cults, various types of political, psychological, and eastern cults are listed.

Some of these online groups specialize in particular cults. The Exit and Support Group Network assists as well as supports exiters of the Worldwide Church of God, or any related controlling splinter group or offshoot.  This site helps those who have suffered spiritual, psychological and financial abuse as well as exploitation by these pseudo-churches.

A Google search for "ex-cult support will bring up many more links to helpful pages. Some are for particular individuals while others help with those who have left any abusive and controlling group. As with anything in life, check these organizations out before taking their advice.

What a shame that nobody mentored me when I gave my life to Christ in 1969. Had somebody done so, I most likely wouldn't have fallen for the blatant blasphemy preached at a house church. Nevertheless, I wrote my memoir of how I was deceived and how God led me out of the cultic mindset. How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity is available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers.

I also have set up a group on Linked In called Ex-Christian-Cult Member Support. Anybody who has been snared in deceptive organizations and wishes to talk about their experiences is welcome to join.

SCIENTOLOGY: A MANUFACTURED RELIGION

Have you ever wondered what Scientology was about? Doubtless many of us have been approached by well-dressed people offering us "free" personality tests. The procedure seems all right at first but it leads to bondage.

I was nearly sucked into the bogus beliefs of Scientology in 1987. A friend thought that the pseudo-science of Dianetics would cure me of my depression. It didn't do so. In fact, I found the bulky book by L. Ron. Hubbard to be so tedious that I only read a few pages.

Some folks might argue that I was biased by my bad experience of this false belief system. A woman named Tory Magoo was part of that cult. She suffered horrific persecution when she left the group, as you can hear in her YouTube videos.

More to the point, Lawrence Wright's Going Clear book exposes Scientology for what it truly is. Though I haven't read this book, I'd like to get a Kindle copy soon. From what I heard from Tory, I can well understand why this group pressures members who start asking questions.

Cults have many things in common. One factor is that they seek to control their members. The elders at the house church I belonged to certainly tried to stop me from partaking in supposedly satanic activities such as listening to rock music and talking on the CB radio. My long hair and bell-bottom jeans also offended them.

Another thing cults do is offer some form of empowerment and "secret knowledge" to their new members. That bate appeals to the fleshly nature of people. Once they're hooked, the ugly side of cultic bondage comes out.

Acceptance is another need which cults prey upon. At first, the members are all smiles and hugs. Once the victim is well and truly trapped, the leaders pressure them to devote their lives to the group.

Though I wasn't forced to donate to the cult I was in, I became so captivated by its teacher that I gave the church large donations and many hours of my time. Rarely was I commended for this by the elders. In the end, it was their perennial criticism that drove me out of their congregation.

I wrote extensively about that house church in my newly-published memoir, How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. Please check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers.

WASTED YEARS NEVER GO TO WASTE

"I wish I'd never wasted so many years in a cult." Many former members, myself included, mourn the time lost to pseudo churches and movements which end up controlling us. Thanks to the Lord's providence, these supposedly lost years aren't wasted as we had assumed.

Forty-two years ago, I became captivated with the doctrines of a cultic house church leader. His teachings about aliens, teleportation, the pre-Adamic world, and other unbiblical doctrines appealed to my need to feel significant. Consequently, I didn't think the church was strange or blasphemous, even when Brother Herald (not his real name) said that God became deformed by a nuclear war in heaven. Blinded by pride, my belonging to an "advanced" church seemed like the will of Christ.

As the years passed, I became increasingly frustrated. No matter how much I worked up my faith, my eyes never became healed from my poor vision. Worse yet, elders criticized me for lacking faith, having ancestral sins, lusting for sight, and having unconfessed sin. This perennial criticism built up in me a root of bitterness, another fault which the leaders chided me for. One day, I had heard enough. The elderly woman in whose home the church met criticized me from the pulpit. I stormed out of there and turned my back on God for nine years.

When I came to my senses, I realized that God wasn't at fault. It was the wicked elders of that errant house church who created in me unrealistic expectations. In Fact, I learned from Bible passages such as Exodus 4:11 and John 9:3 that my poor vision wasn't the fault of my parents or myself but that the works of God should be manifest in me. This realization gave me immense joy since I wasn't being punished for supposedly lacking faith.

As I grew in the knowledge of God and his Word, I noticed that I knew my scriptures much better than the average Christian. All those times of Bible reading, misguided as I was by heretical teaching, had planted God's Word in my mind.

Now my passion is to proclaim the truth to other lost lambs who fell for the same sort of lies I once did. I wrote How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity to show that there is hope for recovery from the damage cultists do. It's available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers.

Others have had the victorious experience of being led to the truth. One stirring story is told by Jan Groenveld. Visit Cult Awareness and Information Library to hear a thirty-five minute audio recording of Jan's testimony.

HOW TO TRAP NAIVE CHRISTIANS

C.S. Lewis once wrote a fictional book of letters from one demon to another called The Screwtape Letters. The senior demon gave the junior devil instructions on how to deceive non-believers and shipwreck the faith of those who became Christians. If Jack, as he liked to be called, had the time and inclination, he might have also written a parody on how to trap Christians.

Every type of device for catching creatures needs some sort of bate to lure the unsuspecting animal to it.  Food that the creature likes is placed inside the gadget so that moving the treat will hold whatever disturbed it. Fish hooks are a sort of trap as well because the barbs dig into the creature's mouth. Likewise, live traps prevent the animal from escaping. Whichever method is used, the end result is the same.

Cults operate on much the same principle as animal traps. Instead of delicious food, they offer acceptance for the lonely and "advanced knowledge" for seekers of truth. At first, the new members don't realize the peril they're in. The organization gives them what they crave without letting on that the leaders have evil intension's for them.

Then the time comes to lay down the rules and regulations which new recruits are expected to obey without question. By this time, the follower is more than willing to comply. After all, the "exalted leader" or "anointed teacher" knows much more about the spiritual disciplines than the novices.

The trapped believers eventually run into problems with one or another of the cult's dogmas. Such people are taken aside and lectured by elders in the group. If the underlings comply, the elders keep an eye on what those people do until they feel sure that all rebelliousness is gone from their minds.

The trouble really starts when the disillusioned followers persist in questioning doctrines or the actions of the leader and his elders. Such people are taken into meeting rooms and the elders use psychological force to gain the compliance of the unruly members. If the unwanted behaviour persists, the rebels are punished in some way.

The last weapon cults have is disfellowship. The members have become so dependent upon the closed circle of the cult that the outside world looks terrifying. Only the strong-minded or extremely disaffected individuals break away and start a new life in the real world.

I went through most of these stages at a house church I once attended. As a warning to others, I wrote my newly-published memoir called How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. Please check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm.

DID I WASTE MORE THAN FIFTEEN YEARS?

I've blogged often about my time at a cultic house church and how I learned many blasphemous doctrines. But were those years really wasted? After considerable thought, I believe they weren't lost after all. Here's why I think so.

Pastor Steve Wells at South Main Baptist Church preached on 1 Philippians 1:12 a few Sundays ago which reads, "Now it is my purpose to make clear to you, brothers, that the cause of the good news has been helped by my experiences;" Though the apostle Paul was in prison, those circumstances actually helped spread the message of salvation through faith in Jesus Christ.

As I listened to Pastor Steve preach, I realized that I have actually benefited from being in that misguided congregation.  During those years, I had taken a correspondence Bible study course and read my King James Version from cover to cover. Though I learned wrong doctrines, I became familiar with Bible books and where they were located. I even memorized some verses, though I did so to prove Brother Herald's warped theology to others.

When I turned my back on God for nine years and studied evolution, I gained a better understanding of the theory. It seemed fairer to me than Christianity because nobody could be faulted for genetic defects. The cult members believed that ancestral sin was transmitted from parents to children instead of everybody being responsible for their own transgressions. Now I know that the opposite is true.

When I repented of my prodigal behaviour toward God's love for me, I eagerly relearned the essential doctrines of the faith. Though years passed while I slowly learned how wrong Brother Herald was, I realized that many other naive believers were in the same condition I once was.

In 2008, I decided to write a memoir of my time at the house church and how the heavenly Father led me out of its spiritual grip. I set to work in March of that year and completed the manuscript four years later. During that time, I researched various cults as well as how they deceive eager truth seekers. I also took great pains to make sure I wasn't writing anything that was blasphemous or misleading. Additionally, I double-checked what I wrote to see if it squared with what I remember teaching others and what I staunchly believed in back then. I also listened to various Christian radio shows to learn the extent of evolution's consequences. By the final edit, I knew I could stand behind my book's contents.

I wrote extensively about that house church and listed its doctrines in How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. Please check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm.

WHY IS DISCIPLESHIP IMPORTANT?

Christians consider proclaiming the gospel to be a vital part of their faith, and rightly so. Yet there is another aspect that must be addressed, namely discipleship. One of the last things Christ said in Matthew 28:20b was, "Teaching them (disciples) to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.... " Therefore, making disciples is just as important as proclaiming the good news of salvation.

What a pity that so many new believers are left to seek spiritual nourishment from whichever source presents it. From the research I've done and my own experience, I discovered that cults attract mainly seekers of truth. Hardened atheists and devotees to various religions have no use for cults as they are secure in their own beliefs. New Christians, as I was in the early seventies, have no discernment skills so they fall for any lie that masquerades as truth.

In my case, I had given my life to Christ at a vacation Bible school held in the basement of my sister's friend's mother's home. I went there expecting the usual stories and treats that I'd had at the Lutheran church. But Mrs. Blacklock taught something I'd never heard before. She said that everybody was headed for hell but those who accepted Jesus into their hearts and asked forgiveness of their sins would be saved from that terrible fate. I pondered this new teaching for five days, then decided to surrender myself to the Lord.

I don't blame Mrs. Blacklock for not personally inviting me to her church but I wish she had. As far as I know, nobody came to my family's home to invite Diane and I. Mom doesn't remember either. When I was sent back to Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind in September, I returned to the same Anglican church I had attended for the previous five years.

I became spiritually hungry during the summer of 1970 but nobody had told me why church attendance was important. Consequently, I sought spiritual nourishment from radio preachers. Most of them spoke of basic things which I had already learned but one voice stood out among the rest. When I heard The World Tomorrow, I became captivated with Garner Ted Armstrong's persuasive doctrines and analysis of world news events. This was so different from the "Jesus loves me" preaching I'd heard that I faithfully followed his program.

Then a friend invited me to his house church in November of 1971. Far from the usual Bible study topics, the lay minister spoke of the same sort of things Armstrong preached. I became so captivated by Brother Herald that I joined what I thought of as Thee Church.

As I attended the Wednesday evening meetings, I soaked up everything Brother Herald taught as if it was gospel. Here was somebody who refused to paddle around in the shallow end of the scriptural pool. My desire to know more about God was satiated by his biblical interpretations and I saw no danger in what I learned.

I realize now that Thee Church was a cult and that Brother Herald set himself up as God's mouthpiece. Had I been mentored in apologetics, I would have spotted Brother Herald for the blasphemer he was.

This is why I wrote How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. People need to know the truth so they can spot a counterfeit gospel immediately. Read more about this testimony of God's providential guidance at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Virtual Bookworm Publishers.

CAN OUR WORDS REALLY KILL WEEDS?

Believe it or not, I was once taught at the house church I attended long ago that I could curse weeds and they'd die off. Sister Roberta, not her real name, told me that a former member once cursed a garden for growing cabbages since she hated them. Like the superstitious fool that I was then, I believed her.


The next afternoon, when I returned home from work, I decided to use that weed-killing technique on my own garden. I held my left hand over the garden, the hand supposedly used for curses, and rebuked the dandelions and other weeds in the name of Jesus. I commanded them and their kind never to grow in that garden again.


As the days passed, I noticed new weeds popping up in my garden. It was actually the property of the landlord but his upstairs tenants weren't interested in using it. I felt frustrated. Praying one evening, I asked Jesus why the weeds were still growing. I had worked up my faith, yet nothing happened. I used Jesus' name but nothing changed. I even used the correct hand.


Thirty years later, I realize how abysmally foolish I had been. God is sovereign and Jesus' name isn't some sort of magic wand that will make whatever we want happen. The shame of my deception still persists today. Nobody in their right mind would swagger into the office of a president or prime minister of their land and order them to do things. Neither would any sane person stride into the throne room of a queen or king and treat that ruler like a slave. Yet many sincere Christians are led astray by charismatic TV preachers. Worse yet, they give money that could spread the gospel and feed the poor to those greedy false shepherds.


I wrote extensively about that house church in my newly-published memoir, How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity.  Please check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm.

WHAT EXACTLY IS A CULT.

The problem with English is that words keep changing their meanings. For example, "suffer" used to mean "allow" four centuries ago. Likewise, "gay" used to mean "happy" or "cheerful" a mere fifty years ago.

The meaning of "cult" also has changed. We use it in one way to describe a following of a popular entertainer or film star. It has also taken on a sinister meaning, particularly after the deaths of nine-hundred people in Jonestown, Guyana.

In the category of religious cults, two types exist. The sociological cult is one in which a leader runs the lives of his followers. In a theological cult, the leader only dictates the religious practices and ideas of his flock. Jim Jone's ill-fated cult was an example of the sociological kind. The Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons are examples of the latter. Sociological groups often isolate themselves from the rest of the world. Theological cults let their members live in society but they must eschew the activities that the leader determines are sinful.

In my recently-published paperback, How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity, I described my involvement in a theological cult. Like other aberrant groups, this church believed it had a teacher who received revelations from heaven. All other churches only had fragments of the truth but we supposedly had it all. In a theological cult, such as the one I joined, learning "advanced truth" was what kept us attending the meetings.

Not surprisingly, cult members never think of themselves as being in a cult. I know that I would have hotly denied back then that Thee Church, as I called it, was cultic. As far as I was concerned, all the other denominations were ignorant of the advanced truths that we learned. Any attempt to correct me met with stiff resistance, as when a woman tried to evangelize me at the CNIB smoke stand where I worked. Now I realize that I was the deluded one, not her.

So how did I break free from Thee Church? The elders' continual condemnation of my supposedly weak faith and criticisms about my non-church activities built up a seething anger in me. One Sunday, a woman condemned me from the pulpit, without mentioning my name of course. I stormed out of the house as soon as the meeting was over and never attended another of their services.

All this and more is laid out in my newly published memoir, How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. Please check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm.

FUNERAL OF A FALSE PROPHET.

Devotion is laudable but not to a liar and blasphemer. As I related in How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity, Brother Herald's death hit me hard. Here's an excerpt from my upcoming memoir that shows just how I felt when I heard the news of his passing.

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As I lay on the couch after supper the next evening, listening to a New Testament cassette, the phone rang. I fought a stab of abdominal pain as I staggered to the phone in the kitchen.

"I have some bad news to tell you," Sister Eileen said without preamble. "Brother Herald passed away today."

I felt like somebody trapped in a plummeting elevator. "What are we going to do now that he's gone?"

"I don't know." She sounded as bewildered as I felt. "We'll carry on somehow."

"I feel kind of lost, you know?"

"I do too. I've known Brother Herald all my life and now he's gone."

"Who'll teach us now?"

"We still have all his teachings which Mother transcribed. God might also give one of us a prophetic ministry."

"I hope so."

Following a prolonged silence, I remembered to ask, "When's the funeral?"

"I'll let you know. I don't know at the moment."

During the service in the chapel of the funeral home three days later, Sister Roberta sang a hymn as she stood in front of the assembled mourners. During one verse, her voice shook with emotion.

I likewise struggled to keep my own tears back while she sang. The fact that our special teacher would no longer pass on revelations to us struck home.

Following the service, we gathered at the cemetery. As per Brother Herald's instructions, the funeral home covered his coffin with a regulation-sized Union Jack. Once we assembled, the chaplain said a final prayer. Then the attendants lowered our leader's remains into the hole as we filed out of the cemetery.

At Brother Herald's home, a considerable crowd of mourners gathered for a mid-afternoon backyard lunch. All of the church members attended, as did our deceased minister's two sons. Even Emmo and Bessie, who hadn't come to Thee Church for several years, made an appearance. I engaged some of the folks in small talk, but my mind remained occupied with the loss of our remarkable teacher.

During subsequent mid week meetings, Sister Roberta allowed no one to sit in Brother Herald's chair. "In case his spirit comes to the meetings, we must keep it ready for him," she warned us. Throughout my remaining years at Thee Church, this peculiar custom continued.

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God willing, I should have How I Was Razed in print in print and e-book form by the end of this year. As for my previous paperbacks, please click on the Bruce Atchison's books link for information about them

THE CRUEL SHEPHERD.

We should expect every representative of Jesus Christ to speak the truth about all matters. Furthermore, we believe they should have our best interest at heart in whatever they say and do.

Such isn't always the case in houses of worship today. I once attended a home-based church led by a lay preacher who had delusions of grandeur. In my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, I wrote the following account of the cruellest thing he said about me. Even worse, he spoke it behind my back at a meeting that I missed due to work. I borrowed a recording of it from the church and heard his outrageous diagnosis of my poor sight.

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The minute I arrived home, I threaded the tape on the machine. I enjoyed the recording until I heard Sister Roberta ask, "Why isn't Bruce being healed? We've prayed faithfully for him, but he still has poor sight."

Brother Herald drew a long breath, then explained, "The reason God hasn't given him full sight is because he lusts after it."

I gasped as if he had kicked me in the crotch.

"But can you blame him?" Brother Herald continued as his voice became choked with emotion. "To see his young playmates running around and not being able to join them when he was a child - it's no wonder he wants sight so badly."

Then he opened the scriptures to James 4:1 and read. "From whence come wars and fightings among you? Come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members? Ye lust, and have not: ye kill, and desire to have, and cannot obtain: ye fight and war, yet ye have not, because ye ask not. Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts."

His follow-up statements wounded me even deeper. "There is also generational sin in his ancestry. I will not mention the scarlet lady, but we know God punishes those who hate him to the third and fourth generation. It has been revealed to me that this is a generational sin but I have put a stop to it. His children will not be affected by this curse."

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

BEWARE OF HYPOCRISY.

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to find fault with others while ignoring your own? Like it or not, we all tend to excuse failures in our own beliefs and conduct. Like using a mirror to check if our faces are dirty, all of us need to objectively examine ourselves with unflinching honesty. The best mirror I know of is The Holy Bible.

From How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity, here's how hearing of the phony profession of my brother offended me while I was guilty of the same thing

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While Linda and I strolled toward Diane's house one evening after eating at a fast food restaurant, I vented my frustrations regarding my lack of success in bringing people to the Lord. "It's too bad Roy doesn't want to come to church anymore," I complained. "He just wouldn't let the Spirit take over his tongue."

"Did you know that he just went there to learn Brother Herald's secrets?" she replied.

"Really?"

"Yes. He told me he liked knowing things that other people didn't."

"That's no reason to attend a church. We're blessed with an anointed teacher from God. Roy's supposed to be learning the teachings so he can help others who want to advance spiritually."

"I know, but that's what he told me. He also didn't like being ganged up on by Sister Roberta and the rest of you guys."

The closer we approached Diane's house, the greater my anger grew. Roy had always acted like a steadfast believer while in my presence and at church. I believed those occasions when I caught him swearing and saying how he loved Lucifer had been exceptions. The metaphorical scales fell from my eyes as I understood at last he had always been putting on an act so he would receive praise from us.

Because of my blind devotion to Brother Herald, I failed to recognize then that I also attended in order to learn his pseudo-secrets.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

HOW TO TELL IF A PROPHET IS A PHONY.

Many TV preachers claim to know what will happen in the future. How can a person tell if those prognosticators are right or wrong? The Bible states that if what they predict doesn't come to pass, those prophets have spoken presumptuously and we need not fear them. In fact, one passage even calls for false prophets to be stoned to death.

Though I didn't know it at the time, I whole-heartedly believed the predictions of a false prophet. In my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, I wrote about this man's many prognostications. None of them came to pass as he predicted they would. Here is one outrageous example of his phony prophecies.

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In addition to receiving revelations, prophesying, and teaching, Brother Herald claimed he received divine messages in dreams. "A great earthquake will cause Vancouver Island to sink on the thirtieth of June," he declared one Wednesday. "I dreamt that I was sitting at my kitchen table with The Edmonton Journal in my hand. Across the front page were the words, 'VANCOUVER ISLAND SUNK!' in large type. It was dated June the thirtieth. I tried to read the year but it was smudged. God didn't permit me to read it because he doesn't want me to reveal the entire date. People would use the information to place bets and enrich themselves if they knew it."

Though I understood God's need to withhold the year from us, I still frowned. "It would be fun to tell the sceptics what was going to happen and then to say, 'I told you so,' when it did," I mused as he taught.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

THE MARK OF THE BEAST.

What is this "mark of the beast" that so many preachers talk about? It comes from Revelation 13:16-17 which reads, "And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name." The host of The Bible Answer Man radio program, Hank Hanegraaff, recently explained that this mark was a metaphor of character, not some sort of RFID chip or tattoo as many teachers claim. This interpretation makes logical sense as John's letter, which is the last book of the Bible, was written to seven first-century churches. It has no prophetic relationship to twenty-first century believers, with the exception of Christ's return. In my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, I wrote about the erroneous explanation that the minister of the house church gave us and how it frightened me in May of 1974. ----------------------------------------------------------------- As with that explanation, I accepted everything else which Brother Herald taught as gospel. During one Bible study in Revelation, he informed us about the mark of the beast beginning its advance. "My son, Brian, was approached by some promoters of the mark at his job in Fort McMurray," he began. "They wanted him to sell their tattoo banking machines for them." He opened his Bible as he continued, "It says in Revelation, chapter thirteen, verse sixteen, that no man may buy or sell unless he has the mark in his hand or forehead. These machines tattoo a person's right hand with numbers which glow in ultraviolet light. It's pretty hard to misplace your hand, whereas credit cards are easily lost or stolen." While we absorbed that, he continued, "Brian informed me about this and I told him it was nothing less than the mark. He told those men never to come back with their satanic machines or he'd bust their faces." A chill of fear shot through me. "Will it come to Edmonton soon?" I asked. "I believe it will, and it will come quickly," Brother Herald replied. The chain stores will soon own every aspect of food supply. The banks already want people to use the MasterCharge cards so it will condition them to accept the mark. This is why we must save up food for the day when we can't buy it in the stores." ----------------------------------------------------------------- How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

WOLVES DISGUISED AS SHEPHERDS.

How cruel can people be? In my life, I've had certain individuals say many hurtful things to my face or behind my back. One of the cruellest lies came from a man who I once trusted with all my heart to tell me the truth. In my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, I recalled the evening in May of 1974 when i asked the minister of the cultic house church I attended why I was born with poor sight. Below is his heartless and unbiblical explanation. ----------------------------------------------------------------- This most recent failure of my faith nagged at me day after day. When Brother Herald invited our questions at the end of the next mid week Bible study, I burst out, "Why did I have to be born with bad eyesight?" He drew a deep breath and explained, "God gave you a choice of where you would be born, but going through the birth canal erased your memory. This is why we don't remember our pre-birth existence. God showed you the two choices you had and this one seemed better to you. We all were given an opportunity to be born in a different family." "You mean I could have been born somewhere else?" "Yes, and perhaps in another time. You chose to be here in this age. You could have been born with sight, but in a different country and time. You could have been one of those starving Third World babies we read about which die in the bondage of their religion. You could have been one of those Muhammadans in the Middle East. Your sight wouldn't help you to be saved, you know." ----------------------------------------------------------------- How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

STIGMATA: DIVINE SIGN OR FAKERY.

One of the most curious mysteries in Christendom is the stigmata. Throughout the centuries, a variety of oddball people claimed to have had the marks of Christ's crucifixion appear on their hands, forehead, and sometimes their feet. A few have even claimed to have the spear wound of Christ in their side.

Forty years ago, I was in a cultic house church where the minister, who I call Brother Herald, claimed to have the stigmata. Back then, I was an awestruck new believer with no discernment skills. Because of that, I accepted whatever this charismatic leader and his elder taught me. Now I know from proper exegesis of Scripture that this man was a liar and a fraud.

From my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, here is an excerpt that tells of my introduction to what I now believe was a false sign.

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Meanwhile, an incident on Good Friday strengthened my faith in Brother Herald. As proof of his being a teacher of God through divine election, according to Sister Roberta, he suffered from the stigmata.

As Sister Eileen, her mother, and I sat waiting at the card table, I asked them, "Where's Brother Herald? I thought I just heard his voice."

"He's in his room," Sister Roberta explained. "Don't disturb him. He has the stigmata."

"What's that?"

"It's a special burden of God which only a few exalted people get. Brother Herald bears the wounds of Christ in his body every Good Friday. He bleeds a lot sometimes and he doesn't want to be seen."

"Why?"

"It might be too disturbing for people."

Then she opened her Bible and read to me the passage from Galatians 6:17. "From henceforth let no man trouble me: for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus."

She looked up at me and cautioned, "He's in a lot of pain so he doesn't want you disturbing him with questions."

Sister Roberta's rebuke smarted but I held my peace. After all, I still knew little of the faith whereas both she and Brother Herald seemed well-educated in its particulars.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

BLESSED ASSURANCE IN A TIME OF SORROW.

Have you ever met somebody who continually treated you as a problem person, liable to mess up everything? I had the misfortune of meeting just such a character. This woman, who I refer to as Sister Roberta, was a thorn in my side for more than fifteen years.

From my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, here's an excerpt about how I comforted a grieving grandmother in spite of Sister Roberta's profound misgivings.

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One Wednesday evening, Sister Eileen and her mother seemed preoccupied. As we sat in the sanctuary, awaiting Brother Herald, I asked, "Is something going on?"

Both women looked away from me as if they felt embarrassed. Then Sister Roberta broke the silence. "Little Closius died a few days ago. Linda was bathing him and when she left the bathroom to get a bar of soap, he slipped beneath the water."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I mumbled.

"We're having the funeral here on Saturday afternoon. You can come if you wish but don't ask any foolish questions, all right? I don't want Linda to start crying because of your impertinent questions. The last thing grieving people need is for somebody to ask about how it happened."

Around a dozen people attended the funeral for Jay's year-old son.

"If only I had brought the soap in first," Linda kept repeating to herself. "Why did God have to allow this?"

Words failed me as I shuffled my feet and gazed at the floor. Every answer that came to mind sounded trite.

After Sister Roberta served communion and gave a brief eulogy, she allowed the congregants, two or three at a time, to view Closius' body in Brother Herald's room. This inner sanctum interested me more than paying my last respects as Sister Roberta had always forbidden me to see it. A double-sized bed had been placed in the far corner. Next to it stood a varnished wooden chair and writing desk with a lamp on it. I noticed with some surprise that the small room had no windows in its pale blue walls.

Doing my duty, I glanced at the small, brown casket on the centre of the bed before I walked out of the room.

Linda's mother wept as she followed me out from Brother Herald's room. "Poor baby. I'll never see him again," she sobbed.

"You'll be able to see him again in the resurrection when Christ returns," I blurted.

Instead of upsetting her, as I feared, she exclaimed, "Oh yes, I'd forgotten about that. Thanks for reminding me."

I smiled, realizing that I comforted her with the eternal aspect of our lives.

While the congregation disbursed and Sister Roberta Gave several people driving directions to the cemetery, I asked her, "Can I come too?"

"No," she ordered, "You will stay here with us. Only the family members can attend the burial. You'll just get in the way anyhow."

In spite of this snub, I remained loyal to Thee Church and the supposed truth I learned there.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.

ONE STRANGE RETREAT.

Imagine staying on an isolated island off the west coast of America for five days. Imagine some authority figure ordering you not to use any sort of cologne, makeup, or similar cosmetic product. Imagine not being allowed to smoke, drink, or eat your fill of whatever you liked. Imagine not being permitted to talk to the other camp inmates except during supervised meetings. Imagine having to jog a mile along a gravel road first thing each morning before eating a meagre breakfast of oatmeal. Imagine having no coffee to drink either.

It certainly sounds like some sort of mind control cult or religious commune. In actual fact, it was a self-improvement retreat that my Amway sponsor and I went on in February of 1984. Having previously attended the week-long introductory seminar, we felt eager to learn more about human psychology and how it would improve our businesses.

The Pursuit of Excellence organization, sponsor of the seminars, rented a campground on Orcas Island in the state of Washington during February of 1984. Our isolation from the haste and pressure of society was meant to help us focus on the lessons.

As I wrote in my upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, both of us had qualms about this strange place once we arrived there. My Christian convictions immediately posed a problem. How could I pray aloud without breaking the "no talking" ground rule? I decided to petition the Lord during the periods when we were sent into the forest to meditate. I whispered my prayers, all the while glancing around for any spies who would report me to the facilitator of the retreat.

After working on their lessons, performing their relaxation exercises, and obeying their restrictions that week, all twenty-plus of us participants cheered the arrival of the school bus that would soon take us back to the ferry. Though Orcas Island was lovely and I enjoyed the solitude, returning home to my routine felt wonderful.

I've expressed my love of solitude in my previous memoirs, both of which are displayed on the left hand side of this page. Details about them are available by clicking my books link. You're also welcome to contact me directly for more information.