Non-Believer Former Members of the Worldwide Church of God

California

I was born into the Worldwide Church of God in Pasadena, California. My maternal great-grandfather was the first to be brainwashed by Armstrong. He listened to Herbert W. Armstrong on the radio from his farm in Hastings, Nebraska around the late 1940s or early 1950s.

My late father began listening to Armstong as a high school student and when he left high school in 1953 he gave up a scholarship at Oklahoma State to attend Ambassador College in Pasadena. My paternal great-grandfather told him he would pay his tuition anywhere in the country if he would not go to Ambassador. My father didn’t listen.

My mother was from Hacienda Heights, California. Her father was a marine, often away and abusive to the family. She was the eldest of nine children. After high school she moved to Pasadena and got a job as a secretary. A friend introduced her to WCG. Eventually all her younger siblings became tormented children of WCG at the hands of my father.

My mom was shy and had low self-esteem. She didn’t consider herself pretty. In fact, by age 21, she had only been on one date with a boy when she met my father who was ten-years her senior.

My parents met in the Pasadena church choir. My father was attracted to her by her voice. My mom says he was popular at church and that some female members made disparaging comments to her because they felt him to be above her. I think her low self esteem caused her to be sucked into the cult.

My earliest memories revolve around the church and its doctrines. I didn’t know any of my relatives that were not involved in the church as they were called; ‘the world’ and we were ‘the gentiles.’ Later, when my parents left the church I didn’t see relatives who were still in the church because we were cut off from them.

All our friends were church members, too. I remember fondly, the feast (although most of the time was spent in service: AM/ PM or both!). Mom had to work extra hard to save the money so we could go. I seem to remember my parent’s a first, second and third tithe. We were poor because my father thought the world was going to end in 1975 so he saw no need to work although my mom had to take typing and babysitting jobs at home. In fact, my mom would give money to the church and my dad would come in the house and say things like, “Good thing I found these beans in the garage.” Well, to us, beans weren’t so bad because at least our tummies would be full. I remember being hungry a lot. I also remember envying kids who were allowed to eat normal food. We grew up on the 1970s style tasteless natural food found in Mr. Scarborough’s Pasadena store: carob instead of chocolate, matzo crackers; homemade granola; bread; brown rice and plain yogurt. Not that this in and of itself is wrong but to absolutely never be allowed a piece of chocolate, a soda, regular cereal or white bread was ridiculous. Worse we were afraid that if we disobeyed we’d be thrown in the Lake of Fire.

My mom sewed our clothes when she could afford material but usually they came from Goodwill and the rich church members donations.

When the world didn’t end my father became angry. My parents’ fighting escalated. Mom was fighting back instead of simply submitting to the beatings. I remember ministers coming over only now there was shouting and my father telling them that they “shafted” him. My mom was crying a lot.

My parents showed me pictures of ‘The House for God’ and told me that the church took their money to make a theatre and that the place we loved with the paper soap and purple carpet isn’t God’s House anymore. God didn’t need a house because my parent’s announced that “There is no God” and we could now celebrate the “Pagan holidays.” We could even eat pork sausage and hot dogs like all the other kids and wouldn’t be beat for it. We could have friends from the “world,” people that we once believed would be left behind or burn in the “lake of fire.”

So all those years that I was spanked for every little transgression was for nothing! Not sweeping every little bit of flour off the floor before dark when the “days of unleavened bread” would begin. And drinking water on a fasting day (it was supposed to be for adults but at age 6 I was supposedly old enough) were no longer crimes punishable by repeated lashes and I was promised I wouldn’t be thrown into the lake of fire. Yes, that big lake I can’t remember not being afraid of suddenly doesn’t exist! My father never did stop the daily spankings and beatings. That part of WCG we kept in the family. He was more frightening than the lake of fire.

When my parents left the church or were kicked out (I don’t know which) my best friends couldn’t be my friends anymore: the Dexter’s; the Davies; the Coopers; the Scarborough’s; the Standers; the Brazils… all gone. Later some people who also left the church became our friends again but it was never the same.

My cousin Sherry grew up in the Big Sandy church. Poor thing says she learned to fight because kids liked to beat up on WCG kids.

After we left the church I had nightmares that God was going to stab me in the back with a big knife. I think that came from a drawing on one of the scary Bible books we read as children. Strangely, there were a lot of books we weren’t allowed to read as children because they were considered … I don’t remember the word at the moment, but something akin to evil.

I miss the friends, the holy days and the feasts which turned out to be the only family vacations we had for the remainder of our childhood.

I never did make close friends as an adult when I ventured out on my own and into other churches. It just didn’t feel the same. I think that bond that cult members have is stronger than in traditional churches.

My childhood was traumatizing. I didn’t get immunizations like other children and had them done myself when I was 31 years old. Ministers would come to our house and anoint us when we were ill. My mom had to birth her four daughters at home and my dad never allowed her medical care. She almost died once.

My experience in the cult as a child made me feel different from other kids. I wasn’t allowed to participate at Christmas time and of course other kids found that strange. It made me different and it’s not good to be so different when you’re growing up in the then nearly homogenous Pasadena.

I learned a lot later about what really went on in the church. You see, my father, started working for Herbert W. Armstrong during college. He began as his chauffeur and then moved up to be his “right hand man.” Apparently, my father complained of ministers having sex with female students and cheating on their wives. He was one to complain because he sexually abused me and my sisters all our childhood. Of course, later I heard that happened to a lot of other kids in WCG.

I have one uncle who is still in the church. He says that the American economy is going to collapse within the next two years; we are going to have a race war and no place will be safe. I feel scared again…

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 31st, 2007 at 11:15 pm and is filed under Personal Story. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site. Your comments must be approved by the moderator before they will appear.