MOODY BIBLE INSTITUTE - A SECRET SHAME
But
whoever shall occasion the fall of one of these little ones who believeth
in me, it would be better for him to have a millstone hung round his
neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Jesus: Matthew 18:6
WARNING:
If you are chickenhearted about reading accounts of childhood sexual
molestation by preachers, not to mention idiot so-called Faith Healers
who let their children die, you should go back to the hen house now and
squeeze out a couple of more eggs. You gotta be good for something.
Among others, this is the
brutal story of what was done to me by a preacher from the Moody Bible
Institute. Naming names, I take no prisoners. I have asked the Moody
Bible Institute many times to apologize for my unholy treatment at the
hands of one of their representatives, one Irwin Moon, and they refuse
to answer me. And, they must know all about OLD MOONIE.
With all due respect, I am sure The Moody
Bible Institute is populated by mostly good folks who would
never hurt a child. Good for them. The reason I am angry as hell from
this experience is: a pedophile like Irwin Moon, onetime preacher of theirs, statistically,
molests on average 300 kids before they are caught, if
ever. Therefore I believe there is a great likelihood that this
unconscionable man did unto to others what he did unto me, in the most egregious manner possible, that is, while he was praying to Jesus to save our child souls,
thus throwing some of us into lifelong spiritual, mental and emotional
nightmares of unbridled fear and loathing. Self-hatred is a bitch.
Nearing age 70 now, I still suffer Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, a
lifelong crippling affliction. When the Catholic abuse scandal was
happening I could not turn on the television or read the newspaper.
When Benidict was made Pope, abuse victims showed up with signs of
protest ––– as the current Pope is one of the loving "Fathers" that moved priests from
town to town to continue their molestations, in full knowledge of
what he was doing. Omerta is worse for priests than it is for mobsters
and cops. The protesters that day were spat on by some Christians as they stood near the massive turnout for his
Ordination. Yes, SPAT on! Their ignorance, coupled with
"blind love" and no concern for TRUTH and it's consequences.
There is nothing in the world that will keep us in ignorance longer
than contempt prior to investigation.
To experience the
fantastic help I got finally, at age 55, as a survivor of childhood
rape: go here, to Parents United. If anyone can help you, these folks truly have the
massive experience to do so.
My
experience means there are NO DOUBT hundreds of grown men all over the
country today who were molested by Irwin Moon, preacher for the Moody
Bible Institute. I post this then,
for US, those who could not heal, for healing together in the face of those who hide the truth
because they are weasel-hearted, afraid of their own
shadows. To Hell with those in the Moody Bible Institute who hid
this disaster of a
man, who keep Irwin Moon's story of GREATNESS online to this day,
claiming he was a super educator and preacher. They remain silent,
therefore complicit in his crimes, not allowing others who need it, and
want it, to have part of the healing they need. Shame, shame, on those
who knew, and know, and do not
speak up or take down that awful web-story about Irwin Moon's great
love of
teaching and "bringing people to Christ". In the light of what he did, it's all bullshit.
If Life Is A Gift,
Where Do I Go To Exchange It?
© 2009 Dave Archer / All Rights Reserved
When
I was around ten, a minister named Irwin Moon, from the
Moody Bible Institute put on a weird science show in the Fremont Movie
Theater in my hometown of San Luis Obispo.
Weird indeed.
Among
other devices, Moon had a large Tesla coil that produced amazing
displays of high voltage electricity arcing through the air, i.e. "and
God created the heavens and the earth!".
(note: I do not think
this had anything to do with my later profession as an "electric
painter," using a machine almost identical to his, still, it is at least worthy of mention, and could have well
been a subconscious motivation, to regain control of my life ...
stranger things have happened. Who knows ... )
His
show was all pretty corny. Still, I was a kid. I loved it. "And God
created LIGHT!", and Moon held out a fluorescent tube, lighting it
simply from the amount of radio frequency electricity in the air near the
coil. "And God said, let there be fluorescent lighting tubes, and
there was
fluorescent lighting tubes". Actually, fluorscent lights were invented
by Nikola Tesla around the turn of the century, not God.
After
the show Moon invited people to accept Jesus as their personal savior,
offering anyone who wanted salvation to join him, one at a time, behind
the velvet curtains that led to the exit. Thinking back, that was indeed
suspect right there. Why not save us in the main theater? No, Moon
wanted kid behind that curtain. The "crowd" was sparse --- only about
ten people. I joined him, not realizing, the other folks were leaving.
I was fairly miserable at a deep level, unspoken, untold, completely
secret., mostly unconscious. I felt my previous molestations were my fault and was riddled with shame. That's what
molesters want kids to think. "Don't
tell, you'll get in BIG trouble". Or, "it's all your fault because you
are so good looking I couldn't help myself. Get out of my sight you
little bastard". Or, "Don't tell or I know where you live and will kill your mother". Nice huh.
In
the dimly lit passageway behind the curtain the creep had a card
table set up with some very small booklets, around two inches square.
We
sat flanking the table in folding chairs, backs against the wall,
therefore, turning our heads to speak. I remember him asking if I
attended church. We talked a bit. Mainly, was I ready, right then, to
give my life to Jesus? When I said yes, (which is odd when I think back
on it now, because I did go to church with mom) anyway, the guy got up
from his chair, came around the table, then knelt before me, as if to
pray. He then placed his hands on my knees and started squeezing a bit,
which I instantly sensed as, "off". Then, while he was praying to the
Lord for my soul, ("Jesus, this young boy is coming before you today, to give his life to you"), his hands started creeping up my legs like two
tarantulas, finally fondling my crotch. After a few minutes,
thinking Jesus would hate me, I leaped like a kangaroo through the
curtains, and up an empty aisle as fast as I could go, convinced I was going to straight to Hell. You see, Moon's
fondling felt "good" --- therefore, "I" must be all BAD, through and
through.
This
worm then actually jogged after me
up the aisle that day, "... please David, here, I want you to have
this". When I turned to take it, his face was as red as the small Jesus
booklet he
handed me. I have never forgotten that FACE. Mom saw the booklet later
and asked about it. I
told her about the "neat" science show and the Moody Bible guy's
electric
preaching, leaving out his, "laying on of hands". In the 40's and 50's
we NEVER told. When I was a young boy there were a lot of men in my
hometown after me. Their crimes drove me to extreme
neuroses, self-hatred, shame, suicidal binge drinking, drugs,
prostitution, and bloody horrendous psychotic breaks from which I
barely recovered. Every psychiatrist, psychologist and healer I ever
worked with later told me it was a miracle I lived through it.
Every friend throughout my life, when they really got to know me,
turned to me at one point and said, "David, you should be dead". That
they had rarely heard a story as awful as mine. One psychiatrist handed
my
check back and said, "I can't help you. From the way you tell your
story, you seem to me to have "intergrated" this better than most". Not
hardly. He missed PTSD!
It also drove me into art. Ah, the rub.
I
still have good days, and bad days. Bipolar to the core, a crabapple
tree at times, my life has been a combination of HELL, and sweet, yet tough healing. No
more silence. Our molesters tell us: "don't tell" so here and now I break all
silence at the level of public confession. I will no longer hold it in my
guts and get more ulcers.
Molestation marked me with a psychic "jumpersticker" on my back.
I was also molested by Gilbert Brown, the
owner of Brown's Music Store on Higuera Street in downtown San Luis
Obispo.
The
same store where my mother bought me a plastic recorder
called a "Tonette" for grammar school music class, and later, a
ukulele. Brown was in his mid-thirties with two daughters, and sang in
the Episcopal church choir. I was around twelve, in store that
day
collecting LP's (Teresa Brewer, Circus Band Music, Bullfight music, and
other odd
records) with money earned from my "Telegram Tribune" paper route.
There
were a couple of small listening booths in the back of the store.
There, Brown always insisted that he handle all records and adjust the
volume of the demo machine. There were no doors on the booths, control
knobs were crotch level. Whenever Brown reached to adjust the controls
he would rub the back of his hand on my genitals, saying, "Do you like
it
louder ... like that ... or even a little louder?," pushing into me.
Then he said, "follow me," leading me into the back
storeroom. Confused and mentally ill by then, I followed. He tried this
with a
couple of my young friends too,
but they took off. Gil Brown did not know or care about my background,
or that I was in dire need of professional help. To him I was just
another opportunity, another likely prospect the right age. My side was
a frightening compulsion, I know now, absolutely rooted in, coercive
sex abuse from an older boy in the neighborhood named Fred Muff,
ongoing by then, for
two years. He lives in Atascadero now, a family man, yet I wonder and
always will, did he continue? Gilbert Brown to me was a scary "old" man
with a spooky
smell. I didn't like him, and certainly was not "attracted" to him. It
was 1953. Us kids were still playing kick-the-can in the street.
Television was so new we only got one channel on a twelve inch screen.
I was showing "Andy Panda" cartoons on a 16 mm projector in my bedroom.
I was a School Safety Patrol stool-pigeon. The popular TV show was
Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts. Tickets to the Saturday matinee at the
Elmo Theater cost twelve cents each --- including a cowboy movie, a
Flash Gordon serial, and 20 cartoons.
After some dreadful "fooling around" as he called it, when I was leaving the store, Brown said, "See you next time!" I
jumped on my bike and rode to my favorite hiding place, a pepper tree
in a vacant lot not far from our home at 644 Mountain View street. And there I sat, boy next door,
down, dirty, confused, vowing never to go back. Such was the terrible compulsion however, I did. One day I was sitting in
my tree again, so filled with shame, that later at dinner (because my
brother was gone for some reason) I actually told my parents, of course, leaving
out the gory details. This was major. We never told, ever.
"He what!?" dad shouted.
"I was in
the record booth and he pushed his hand against me, down there ... you
know. He acts like he's going to adjust the volume, then he does it, to other boys too".
"Are you sure he's not just accidentally brushing against you?"
"He does it on purpose Dad, with other boys too".
After
a silence dad's Norse fiord-thunder voice began rumbeling like Eric the
Red after ten mugs of mead. He grumbled, "I've got a
mind to go down to that store in the morning and rake that son of a
bitch over the counter about seventeen times!" If my father had
acted on that legitimate impulse and raked Brown over the counter about
seventeen times, my life might have turned out differently. I can't
say. Perhaps not. I was already pretty far gone. We live with the
wounds we are dealt in life, and we heal as best we can. "Now,
Palmer, you could get in a lot of trouble doing something like that
..." said mom, the Goddess of Domestic Neutrality. A few days
went by, nothing more was mentioned about it. I asked mom, "Did dad
ever go to Brown's Music Store?"
"No,
but your father did talk to the police. Remember, he knows them all because he used
to work there during the war. We found out Brown was kicked out of the
Boy Scouts for the same thing. The police said they are keeping an eye
on him."
It
must have been the eye with the pirate patch. More
likely, the one they sat on. To Hell with those cops. Shame, shame on
them.
I've detested cops and other so-called "authorities" ever since that
experience. When any "authority figure" enters any room I happen to be
in, I
stagger for the door. I don't want to hear a word they say. Bill
O'Reilly on FOXNews is the only commentator in America to steadily,
with much outrage, call the cards on judges who release pedophiles with
a slap on the wrist. I love him for that. Every time he does it, which
is often, I glow with satisfaction that the victims are not forgotten.
These judges he goes after are letting go men who have molested 20
boys, or girls, have no remorse, except that they ACT out in court, and
still, some maggot-brained judge, let's them go. Unbelievable.
To
be fair, of course, not all authorities are bad. Indeed, many are
nothing less than heroic. I know, understand and fully appreciate this.
Still, I 'm out the door. Because the cops did nothing until 300
more hometown boys
were molested. Brown still lives in San Luis Obispo, (could be in the
abyss now, with that millstone Jesus spoke of ... good) where for
decades he
has sung in the Episcopal Church choir. As part of my therapy once, a
psychologist had me write to him, asking for an apology, which of
course, I never received. I did talk with a woman in his minister's
office on the telephone one day. She informed me that "they" were all
aware
of the problem and he wasn't allowed to be near children. She also
informed me that Brown had done time in prison
for molestation. Then she then added, "It's a disease you know,"
a
comment that sets my teeth grinding. Hell no, it is not a
disease, no matter how much it might seem like it, or how Politically
Correct it is today to spout such unthinking, unreasoned bullcrap, to
never speak up about ANYTHING anymore, that is the deal. "Oh dear, I can't say that".
Yes, you can. Watch me. Learn. Yet, people driven by PC tend to
categorize it such.
illness is cancer, H1N1, diabetes, etc. Hey, child rape is no mental illness
either. It's a conscious
choice. A moral problem, an unholy crime, like yanking the wings off a
sparrow. ILLNESS and MORALITY have been terribly confused by 12
Step Programs over the years. In AA the most important thing alcoholics do is
take a, "fearless and thorough MORAL inventory of themselves", then make amends for their specific
actions,
not their "disease", well, some do. In fact, well meaning people,
trying
to relieve
the stigma of substance abuse, not to mention overeating, gambling,
debt problems, to name but a few, have muddied cultural waters so
badly by now, that even the most ghastly crime is often granted some
sort of "illness" component, seized upon by defense attorneys and used
like a mystic fog machine. "I ask the jury to remember, when Irwin Moon
committed each of his 300 acts, keep this paramount in your considerations,
the man was in the grips of bipolar
disorder". Hey, I have bipolar disorder! I know all about it, and
defense lawyers know all about it too and are completely complicit in
the lie.
In
art class in my 1958 junior year
of high school, my table-mate had a somewhat hard, yet beautiful face,
set off with long, wavy, black hair. She spoke in husky breaths, in a
cigarette voice that fascinated me. I remember she sat at the table
some days in a cramped position, allowing for catnaps while holding her
pencil, as if working. I wish I recalled her name. It is on the tip of
my tongue. Someday, I might. She was off kilter, with quick glances,
(my eyes only), over what was said in class sometimes. My
mystery girl was sort of gothic actually, in a time when absolutely no
one was. Well, there was the Olive family who painted their two story
Victorian black. All black. Well, and they also wore black too. All of
them, all black. Hum. The Olive's were intriguing for the conservative
'50's, that's for sure. After high school I knew Stanley Olive as a
wonderful artist, when I studied with Phil Paradise. I am not sure the girl
graduated. Her picture (as I
remember her at least) is not present in my high school annuals.
One
afternoon my seat-mate did a watercolor on white paper of what seemed to be a
potato against an oval background tinted yellow. "What do you call it?"
I asked.
Flipping over the paper, on the back she had written:
"my life is a turd
floating on a sea of yellow,
won't someone come along
and flush me down forever and ever?"
This,
in the magical '50's so many swoon over today. Hey, it was just more
hidden back then. Like the Victorian age when people acted
"straitlaced" in public, then at home, ripped into such
expressions of sexuality, as S&M, not to mention group sex,
homosexuality, and every other wild ride imaginable. Talk about a home
schooling course in Kraft Ebbing. Not to mention Alfred Kinsey, who
actually allowed pedophiles to perform sex on children, in a
"scientific atmosphere" to gain information on infant orgasm, etc. This
was a man who circumcised himself in a bathtub for the S&M pleasure
it afforded. Just Google it, or read the book by Dr. Judith Reisman, Kinsey, Crimes & Consequences.
It just astonishes me to remember that radioactive
"poem" my seat-mate wrote, but I never forgot, because I think I knew
what she meant. And don't get me wrong, I was not a morose kid at all.
I smiled and laughed a lot. She did too, joking around and all. Which I
know today, was partly how we hid our pain. And certainly, none of this
was conscious of the consequences. I only see those in retrospect.
One
of the things I find most interesting about the 50's was the iceberg of
subtext we floated on in our quiet, conservative town of San Luis
Obispo, California. I mean, what the holy hell was going on in that
girl's home? How did she
fare later in life? With a lifetime of survival knowledge under
my belt now, if you don't believe my story, just shut the "F" up
and sit down and listen until you HEAR the unhealed crying in the
wilderness. Molested people feel taboo, even to
themselves. It's just awful. If people know you were molested as a
child, half of them wonder about you. Crap! So we keep it all inside
where it turns into depression, ulcers, alcoholism, and heart attacks.
Yes, many
people who molest, were in fact molested, (HOWEVER) most importantly, most people who were molested, do NOT go on to molest others, period.
Ask yourself this, why in hell would we ever want to hurt kids the same
way we were hurt? I
learned this statistic about molestation at age 55 during intensive group thearpy
with
eleven other people while in a program put on by Parents
United in San Rafael, California. Most of the
other people in our group were older than me. You see, the fact is,
most folks do not seek help until
we are older because then it really starts to hurt, as we can no
longer trash-compact the horror into our guts and hold it there, day
in, day out. Also, with age, we can look back over our lives and
finally SEE how what happened ruined almost everything dear to most
human beings. Impossible marriages,
just the tip of the iceberg. I have a friend here in Oregon who was
driving past a park at age 60, when he rememberd being molested there at
twelve. Suddenly he flashed back and saw how it had colored
everything in his life and caused unholy pain to himself, and spouses,
etc.
He pulled over his car and injected shot after shot of
insulsin to end it all in diabetic coma. Luckily he survived. I
am the only person on earth he has ever told. Are you getting it
now? I sure hope so. These experiences are as serious as heart
attacks. The only reason he told me was we worked together for years
and
part of my story came out over time.
Jehovhas Witnesses
almost never call the authorities when one of their flock molests a
child, in their case, mostly young girls. Oh, they claim they do report
nowadays, after decades of not doing just that. They have new by-laws,
etc., however my lifelong friend, a decades long Witness called me
recently to tell me she was leaving her decades long faith. I was
shocked, and worried for her. I could not imagine it. She had invested
so much in Witness faith I thought she must be in real trouble. She
said, "They are still doing it David. All the Elders will
do in many cases is what we call, "disfellowship" along with
"shunning", never calling police. I am leaving the church because they
release these creeps to go on and molest other children and I can't
take it anymore". I was still worried for her. She said, "Don't worry,
I have found help on the NET with ex-Jehovhas
who feel like me". And there you have it. All in the name of the Lord,
on they go, completely complicit in child sexual abuse. There must be a
special place in Hell for those hollow Elders, those men with no faces.
Just try their main website and see if you can find a single phone
number or e-mail address. Good luck. The only way you can meet them is
to fill out a request form so they will come to your house. Just try
finding phone numbers for their churches even, called Kingdom Halls. I
suggest hundreds of us do this. Sign up for a home visit, and when they
show up, tell them what we think of their criminal complicity.
Now, about the other ghastly problem. Here
in Oregon, near me, there is a faith healing church with it's own
graveyard, where lie the rotting remains of 21 children refused
medicine because of their parents assinine inturpretation of
Scripture. Yes, Carl Worthington, 28, and Raylene Worthington, 25,
surrendered recently (2009) to face charges of manslaughter and
criminal mistreatment, said Detective Jim Strovink of the Clackamas
County Sheriff's Office. They were held on $250,000 bail each. The
couple's daughter, 15-month-old Ava, died at home March 2 from
bacterial bronchial pneumonia and infection. A deputy state medical
examiner said Ava's medical problems were treatable with antibiotics.
The Worthingtons belong to Oregon City's Followers of Christ Church.
According to church tradition, when members become ill, fellow
worshippers pray and anoint them with oil. Dozens of children have been
buried in the parish cemetery over the past 50 years. A 1998
analysis by The Oregonian newspaper found that 21 of the deaths could
have prevented with medical care. The 1999 Oregon Legislature
eliminated the state's "spiritual-healing defense" in cases of
second-degree manslaughter, and more. Legislators were prompted by the
death of 11-year-old Oregon City boy whose diabetes was left untreated.
His parents were members of the Followers of Christ Church. When will
good people stop ignoring this madness and start picketing the homes of
lowlifes like this, who say they mean well, while
allowing their kids to die in needless ways. Freedom of religion only
goes so far. It's exactly like freedom of speech. If you trash
another's race, watch out. If you trash your own children, watch out.
Who in the hell do these so-called Christ followers think they are? I
am happy our legislators are getting the picture and acting. Still,
when will good folks stand up and scream in their ignorant faces! What
in Hades gives them the right to allow their kids to die in the name of
Christ. I suggest they reread Matthew 18:6 and try to interpret that Scripture. The same Scripture at the beginning of this article.
Just
today (November 18 / 09) in Roseburg (where I live) The News
Review daily newspaper, is the story of a Salem, Oregon (two and a half
hours from here) couple accused of using wires, sticks and household
items to abuse four of their seven children. The kids called from a pay
phone for help. The massivly ignorant couple told a Marion County judge
they are refusing court-appointed attorneys. Lyudmila (lyood-MEE-lah)
Kozlova told Judge Thomas Hart that she and her husband Oleksandr, will
rely on GOD only when they stand trial. "You are our judge, but there
is another judge over you. It is our God, and he is our lawyer, our
defender". Why do I think their lawyer and defender
is about to kick their sorry asses behind bars, with a huge fine
and their children in foster care? We can only hope. When will
people stop using God as their excuse for hideous acts of sex and
violence on kids? When will good people of faith everywhere finally
stand up and hollar, "ENOUGH!" Most likely never. It seems it is the
number one Politically Incorrect taboo among religious people. Yes, one
must never criticize the beliefs of others, even when children are
needlessly dying. When will people of good faith speak up?
One
of the worst all time offenders for allowing children to die has always
been the Christian Science church. Mary Baker Eddy is choking in hell
for this. Screw that witch. I'm totally fed up with these people, even
though I have Christian Scientists in my own family and they would
never keep a child from a doctor. Still, they know the horrendous DEATH
SCORE and remain silent and unmoved to the point they would never
consider leaving their precious bullshit religion. How can they do
that? What the hell is wrong with them?
In Today's Oregonian, (12/4/09) commentator, Andy Parker, writes: Ryder
Stevens is what's known in the Christian Science church as a
"practitioner" of prayer-based healing. When he speaks next week at
Lake Oswego High School, perhaps he'll share the story he told me of
his own miraculously fast recovery from a high school football injury
just days after a doctor told him the injury would take weeks to heal.
A story he is less likely to tell is the long, painful death of
2-year-old Robyn Twitchell, whose screams of pain from a fatal bowel
obstruction forced his Boston neighbors to shut their windows but never
persuaded his Christian Science parents to call a doctor. Robyn's
agonizing death 13 years ago resulted in the Massachusetts Legislature
removing the state's legal shield for parents who offer only prayer and
religious rituals to their sick children. I can't say if Stevens will
recall how, on the eve of jury selection in Robyn's parents'
manslaughter trial, the church took out full-page newspaper ads to complain of persecution.
Stevens is not likely to mention that the Christian Science lobby steps
in whenever state legislators ––– whether in Ohio, Indiana, or Oregon
––– take steps to weaken legal shields for faith-healing parents who
refuse critical medical care for children. What Stevens is likely to
tell his audience next Saturday is that, unlike the Followers of Christ
in Oregon City, Christian Science beliefs do not prohibit the use of
doctors. He'll make it clear, as he did in our phone interview, that
church-goers are commended for getting bones set, that as a
practitioner of prayer healing he's prohibited from giving advice, that
his role is to help people with their own spiritual treatment.
Parker continues: What
people decide to do and not to do is their free choice. But where, the
law asks, does that leave children like Robyn Twitchell? What good does
it do for Followers of Christ children like 15-month old Ava
Worthington, who died last March of bronchial pneumonia and blood
infection after her parents treated her only with prayer and faith
healing? Her father, Carl Brent Worthington, was convicted of
second-degree criminal mistreatment. Perhaps you believe in healing
through prayer. Perhaps you've experienced it benifits. There is no
rational basis to reject the potential role of prayer, or meditation,
or any form of positive energy in the healing process. But it is not
the only healing process, and, by Oregon law, parents cannot sentence a
child to death by withholding critical medical treatment. Two days
after Stevens' Dec. 12 presentation in Lake Oswego on the use of prayer
in healing, a Clakamas County judge will hear motions in the upcoming
trial of Ava Worthington's grandparents, Jeff and Marci Beagley. The
Begleys are scheduled to go to trial in January on charges of
criminally negligent homocide in the death of their 16-year old son,
Neil Beagley. He died last June of an untreated urinary track blockage.
The press release announcing Steven's speech in Lake Oswego begins with
the sentence:
"Recent tragedies involving the deaths of
several children whose parents chose reliance upon faith healing in
place of medical treatment have opened discussion about the role of
prayer as a form of health care ––– especially when it comes to
children."
That paragraph ends with a question: "But with
various approaches to prayer, how can we be assured that the approach
we use is practical, reliable and effective, or that it will be safe
for our children?" You can't help but wonder how Robyn Twitchell, Ava
Worthington and Neil Beagley would respond to that question.
If
anyone out there is involved in a faith healing church that is letting
children die for want of a few pills or one injection, for the Love of
Christ, report it and get out. If anyone out there wants healing
thearpy for childhood sexual abuse, no matter what age you are,
(there is no reason to wait until you are pushing "elderly" as a few of
the people in our group thearpy class were quite a bit younger than us
old pharts, being able to see the madness coming to meet them long
before we did. Good for them.
Here then, I offer the same website above that will lead you to a Chapter of
Parents United, most likely near you. Because, it was there, in
Parents United that I took home the best healing (tough as nails) I
ever got ––– 4 months, twice a week.
What
I learned there is that on a pie-chart, molesters who were
molested would be one slice, while us survivors, nearly the whole rest
of the damn pie! Yet we don't speak up. Why would we? It makes
everyone, including us, uncomfortable. It can clear a room in about 20
seconds. I am what is called however, a "true artist / writer", so, I have little choice. Yes, it is my professional
obligation and lot in life to share my truth, heart, soul, emotions, strength, spirit, hope,
sadness and healing without fear.
Good
wishes and deep healing to all those out
there who were sexually molested by Irwin Moon or anyone else, and need
help to move on. Some who are molested weather the storm much better
than others. Some adjust and move on without a problem. I am not one of
those fortunate people. Thousands of others are like me. I hope
you have found
healing, and are getting on well as can be expected. Parents
United was the single healing
experience that helped me more than any other. Anything however,
is better than nothing if you need it. Pick yourself up by your
bootstraps, chin up, and seek help. I highly
recommend it.
And damn it all to hell, I still DEMAND an apology from someone,
anyone, at the Moody Bible Institute. Lots of luck there. Cowardice is
infectious. They bury the truth the same way we victims of horrendous
child abuse do when we are told by our molesters, "Never tell or you'll
get in BIG trouble". The Moodies however, have no excuse at all. Well,
they
don't want lawsuits, and they, like Jehovhas Witnesses do not want
to bring shame on their church, a shame all who know and keep silent
share. Come on ostriches, pull your block-heads out of the crap, fess
up and
get on with doing the next RIGHT thing. How long will you stand
there with your bald faces hanging out and do nothing to help children
cursed by your complicity?
How long? When you face the
Creator, what will your spiritual lawyer claim in your defense? That
you had bipolar disorder? That you knew about it, but didn't want to
get involved? That you don't like to "dwell" on ugly stuff like this so
you turn away? What do you think the Lord will answer for your
blindness and complicity?
If not YOU, then ... ?
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