We don’t live in a communist country do we? And yet we’ve lived that
existence, haven’t we? We know what it’s like to tell our consciences, and our
intuition, and our very own good common sense, to shut up and take a back seat to the
wisdom of a stranger claiming spiritual leadership. We know what it’s like to live
with the knowledge that we too gave the same words of rebuke to others who left the
assembly ten or twenty times before we ourselves heard the words in our own ears, in
our own heads, and then had to start from scratch to learn again the good common
sense that God had given us.
Are we bitter? I’m not. I’m grateful. I’m free and I know what my freedom
means. I know that I am not a zero, not ‘just a sinner’ but a worthwhile human being
with gifts and appetites and feelings and joys and thoughts that need not be
suppressed or endorsed by spiritual superiors in order to enjoy them myself.
Seven years is nothing now that it’s passed and still, I cried. “It’s like
somebody died.” I said crying, when I heard that many assemblies all over the US and
most in Canada had closed their doors. Why? Because there was something in me,
no matter what I experienced, that wanted it to be true - George and being in the
centre of God’s will in the assembly. It brought back the memories of that far away
dream, of being married to a leading brother somewhere, of raising Godly children
and knowing the ‘protection’ of the assembly against the evil of the last days.
I remember too, fully expecting to be struck dead by lightning when I left the
Lord, to find my end in a brutal accident or go stark raving mad. But it didn’t happen.
None of it: fears or dreams. I didn’t go nuts. I got a life. I started dealing with those
low self esteem issues, finding out that worse fates could have befallen me than a
controlling religious group - notice how I try really hard not to say cult. And I’m still
healing, like I said.
Strange as it may seem, my children are my best teachers when it comes to
love and acceptance. It seems that they were born knowing they were loved, that they
are precious. And through loving them, and watching them thrive in my loving hands,
I’ve learned what a loving, worthwhile and important person I am. In contrast, that
the assembly either employed leaders that hid abuse or else brutally abused their
wives and children and each other, does not surprise me in the least. A regime can not
hold the control of thought that this one did over its members without also having a
reason for that control to exist - something to hide, secrets to protect. The most
‘godly sister’ I knew never dealt with me in kindness. She very carefully scared me to
death. Before her, I always felt hopeless.
I applaud the courage of Bill and Joyce, of Judy and Rachel. Though I’ve
never met you, I know you. You’re not different from me. I stand with you and
validate your experience and your stories with my own: amen. It’s true Joyce. What
you say is true. Good for you Rachel and Judy, you didn’t let the enemy crush you.
You stood up for the oppressed and the broken: yourself. That’s got to be worth
something. That’s got to let you sleep at night, no matter how your conscience is
riddled with scars and regrets.
And still I am left, very much like my grandmother at the end of the second
world war, looking for her kin. I wonder about the missing, those I’ve lost contact
with over the years: Flora Campbell, who was totally abandoned by the saints in
Ottawa and to whom the Ottawa saints owe so much more. Of all people, Flora served
and was honest and humble and thoughtful to those she knew. Still, she was the least
considered by those in leadership. The last time I saw Flora she didn’t look like she’d
live long. Armand and Nancy Cossette - how do you sleep at night?
What’s become of Darrel Bright - the man with whom I was hauled up on the
rug before the leading brothers and shamed again and again because we talked on the
phone too much. Because he passed me a note once in a meeting. Though we never
even touched once, I felt like such a whore when the brothers were done with us. I
thought I’d die. Darrel - have you found the girl of your dreams yet? I wish you well.
Where are Nancy and Bill (?) from Omaha?
Mary and Chris Burgess who, like many, had to flee to be married and whose
wedding invitation was never read to the saints in Ottawa. People in Ottawa were
treated like trash when they didn’t conform to George’s plan. We lost touch Mary,
where and how are you?
Rose Doonan, who married a brother from the U.S. - and of whom Tim
Geftakys said (to me) not many years ago: that sister has a lot to learn. Rose, have
you quit trying to measure up to his standards? Eileen, her little sister who once
exhorted me until I collapsed against a wall - I forgive you - do you know yet that you
need my forgiveness? What has happened to all of these people? Where are you?
Are you well? Have you learned to separate George’s talk from your own? Have you
learned to think with the good sense God gave you? Somehow, when we parted ways,
leaving the assembly, the saints forgot we were people. We were a label to be
shunned until we repented. I think that’s so sad.
To everyone who’s still surviving the pain - however well intentioned - that
we inflicted on one another in George’s cause - that great testimony to Jesus: forgive
yourself. Enjoy your freedom. The war may not be over, but there is freedom. Cry
if you need to, rejoice if you can. Hug yourself if there’s no one there to do that for
you. I send my love.
Those wishing to respond, please do:
crocusqueen@hotmail.comSincerely Delila R. Hesketh (nee Jahn)
