Part XI :: The Most Wonderful Time of the Fear
Up in the hills, winter was fast approaching, and with that came the holiday that Christians salivate over, Christmas. The stress around the house was the highest, and the comments about “the war on Christmas” was in full force. Another issue was now at play. Freddy was sick. He sat limply on his throne, a swivel chair perched directly in front of the computer and next to the family television set. He would swirl himself from checking his Facebook and e-mail to shout angrily at the politicians on TV who were in league with the Jesuits. Stephen sat on the couch and watched the same news segment, commenting that “all media is owned by the Jesuits.”
Then why are you watching it? I wondered. If you truly believed that the media was Jesuit-owned, would you spend your time watching it? To me, this was the kind of cognitive dissonance that was rife in the church and made me truly start to wonder if the people actually believed what was peddled.*
*Note: It was stated over and over that in order to go to Heaven, one must be perfect. Part of attaining perfection meant eating a perfect diet. Many of Countryside’s finest enjoyed the same foods from time to time that the rest of the world enjoyed. Muffins and doughnuts were still eaten, even though such foods may bar one from eternity with Jesus. Disney was owned by a Jesuit organization and brainwashed children, yet some members still watched Disney movies. If Mickey Mouse was holding you back from celestial bliss, why would you give in?
A popular talent show was playing on television. Freddy would sometimes swivel his chair around to take a look at the various contestants doing extraordinary feats. After getting sufficiently bored with an act, he would turn his attention back to the computer. A lot of time was spent proclaiming his version of Christianity on Facebook and antagonizing his daughters. One had recently left Mormonism due to the extremism and was now an atheist. Freddy believed that he could win her back to the “truth” by constantly telling her she was wrong.
Some of the feats done by the performers were truly awe-inspiring and
unexplainable by the average viewer. These feats confused and perplexed those who showed a desire to know everything. One thing that those who are drawn to
Gnosticism* really hate is not knowing the secrets of something. “You realize that Satan is helping them, right? They sold their souls for such power,” Stephen would hiss.
*Note: The Ellen White cults, including Countryside, seek after a form of Gnosticism. It is believed that there is secret knowledge that can be discerned through the writings of Ellen White that tell the future. These writings contain information that the majority of mankind either ignores or is ignorant to. Moreover, Countryside claimed to have more of this “truth” than the Seventh-day Adventists, who in turn had more than the rest of the world.
Where had the so-called “joy of the Lord” gone? If life is not comprised of any joy, what is the point of living? If God put us in a world of beauty and gave us things to be thankful for, why was it good to fret, complain, and carry a general disdain for life? Even the Deer Park church, which was not perfect, was full of members with a zest for life and who could let their guard down every once in a while and have fun. It was as if many (but not all) of the CountryCult members lacked any humanity and went through life with a stick up their bums. Things like feeding the hungry or visiting the sick were not discussed. While I disagree with helping others out of the hope that they believe like you, I feel that it brings a sense of happiness to help other people out. While many other churches were taking advantage of the holiday season by serving soup, clothing the naked, and tending the sick, Countryside remained content with sending Bill Hughes’
books to Africa. The fruit of this religious lifestyle was seen clearly. An angry old man, his stepson, and an all-consuming pall of darkness. What happened?
It was not always this way. I thought back to years ago. My mind took me to a
more innocent time when religion was not so militant. Where there was a form of
happiness around this season. Where laughter had yet to be replaced with a form of so-called holiness. Where Jesus talked more about Jesuits. I do not sugarcoat the fact that I hated this period of life, and I wanted to get the hell out of this place.
“I think he is on YouTube too much!” The words of Albert’s wife repeated in my head, yet YouTube was Albert’s own personal El Dorado. During the sermons, we would see images that looked like they were taken right out of Alex Jones’ videos. “It’s not good for him.” They were replayed in the home, in case we did not understand their importance. This was the present truth that was vital for us to know. If it's not good for Albert, why is he bringing it to church? I wondered. Why don’t you put your foot down and say “enough?”
I wondered why these women stood by and watched their families fall into darkness. Did they try to speak up? Did they try to talk some sense into their husbands?
The Bible says something along the lines of “you shall know them by their fruit.”
What is their fruit?
More Bill Hughes books being sent to Africa.
I thought back to a song we used to sing in our church on the reservation.
With Jesus in the family, happy happy home.
“Jay Inslee is an idiot!” Freddy stammered. “An idiot!”
Happy happy home, happy happy home.
“Jesuits invented Islam. Have you read the Jesuit oath?”
With Jesus in the family…
“Look at this,” Stephen said, handing me a pamphlet:
The Jesuit Oath
“I do further promise and declare that I will, when opportunity presents, make and
wage relentless war, secretly and openly, against all heretics, Protestants and Freemasons, as I am directed to do, to extirpate them from the face of the whole earth; and that I will spare neither age, sex nor condition, and that will hang, burn, waste, boil, flay, strangle, and bury alive these infamous heretics; rip up the stomachs and wombs of their women, and crush their infants' heads against the walls in order to annihilate their execrable race. That when the same cannot be done openly I will secretly use the poisonous cup, the strangulation cord, the steel of the poniard, or the leaden bullet, regardless of the honour, rank, dignity or authority of the persons, whatever may be their condition in life, either public or private, as I at any time may be directed so to do by any agents of the Pope or Superior of the Brotherhood of the Holy Father of the Society of Jesus. In
confirmation of which I hereby dedicate my life, soul, and all corporal powers, and with the dagger which I now receive I will subscribe my name written in my blood in testimony thereof; and should I prove false, or weaken in my determination, may my brethren and fellow soldiers of the militia of the Pope cut off my hands and feet and my throat from ear to ear, my belly be opened and sulphur burned therein with all the punishment that can be inflicted upon me on earth, and my soul shall be tortured by demons in eternal hell forever.”
A simple search stated that this was an obvious conspiracy theory. The oath had been made up by a forger. Yet, there was no talking anyone out of their beliefs. To state
otherwise made you a Jesuit, too. Either you were against the Jesuits or you
sympathized with them.
Does this somehow bring you closer to Jesus?
Another conspiracy theory.
Day by day, and in each passing moment, I watched Freddy’s health continue to plummet. With the decline of health, his anger continued to grow. It was a catch-22. Anger as a result of the barrage of conspiracy coupled with the anger of getting older and being sick compounded the sickness. I thought back to how some of the extremist Adventist branches eschewed medicine. I was thankful that Freddy and Darla did not go to this extreme.
I watched, horrified, as Freddy paced around the house, consumed with anger. Sometimes he appeared to be in a state of confusion, as if he was not all there. I began to withdraw to the back bedroom more and more. If I found myself in his crosshairs, the barrage of attacks could begin. It could be eating too fast, letting my daughter play on the iPad too much, or spending too much time working. Who knew? It could be the fact that he was not happy about us leaving again. Maybe we were not taking the all-important religion seriously enough. It could be something like not having the pot lid on all the way to boil or washing the dishes just like he did. Perfection meant doing everything just right— even the most mundane tasks.
I wondered why I came back for so long. Four months was too long to stay here. I could have stayed in the Republic of Georgia and worked as an English teacher. I could have been paid. Now I was spending money to be with family and earning very little. With the snow packed roads on the mountain, there was no way to go anywhere or escape. The only place was the bedroom, and when I was back there too long, I heard about that, too. The ray of sunlight was the fact that we had planned to go to India for a while and make our way to Ukraine after. Soon we would be away from this and I just knew I wasn’t going to go back, right? Right?!?!
Being indoctrinated into a strange religion does things with your minds. I used to think that I was smart enough to know better. As I write this, I realize that I was not. I had read books about cults, was educated about this type of thing, and thought myself discerning. But, in the end, I was drawn in. I was going, week after week, and although I knew it was wrong, and although I knew it was hurtful, I still kept going. No, I never believed, but it became a part of me. As much as I like to think otherwise, I know that there were ideas that I did buy into, and those ideas were the ones that echoed Ellen White’s writings. That was the common bond that I held with Countrycult, because at the time I fully believed Ellen White and virtually all of her writings were inspired. Christmas came. No man or cult can hold back the greatest holiday in the Christian tradition. To celebrate the birth of Christ, we made our way to the Deer Park church. Our daughter would be in a Christmas program. We invited the rest of the family, hoping that the environment of the old church would help them snap out of the other way of thinking and let them see that things on the outside were not so bad. These were not Jesuits, just regular people worshiping God on the holiday. Darla, Freddy, and Stephen agreed to accompany us, and we all gathered to watch our daughter sing on stage.
To make it more festive, each person was given a little LED candle to hold as the church went dark. As the children sang, we held our candles. Yet, I could not help but notice that something was bothering Stephen. I ignored it and took in the scene of my little girl and the joy that she felt in church. If only others could feel such innocent joy. If only church was more about loving God and less of being right, being perfect, and worrying about the end of the world. What if church was more about the idea that God loves you, and that He is always with you? For a while, those were the things that mattered.
We returned home after. I hoped that everyone would be in good spirits. After all, what is better than seeing the joy of children around Christmas?
“Jesuits use candles,” Stephen hissed.
My heart sank.
But what about the candles spoken about in revelation? Aren’t candles just a beautiful way to make light? Does everything have to be connected to the Jesuits?
Silence had long been my way, and my way it remained. I listened to Stephen tell us why the Deer Park church had erred by using candles, and how that was proof that they had Jesuits in their ranks.
As we packed our belongings to head off to India, we continued to hear about the candles. Stephen had created a document to explain how candles
were a Jesuit tradition and why those who have the truth should not be using them. My wife had had enough and politely declined to take the information. I was proud of her. It had to end somewhere. This was too much.
Leaving eastern Washington for India was strange but truly wonderful. I felt no sadness in departing. I had never wanted to leave somewhere as bad as I wanted to leave there. And I told myself I would never, ever go back and live amongst that again.
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