Thank you, Smiles - I appreciate the reading of it!
Posts by Terry
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2The One and Only Time I went to Sunday School as a 5 year old boy
by Terry insunday schoolnobody…nobody went to church in my house.
not even on sunday.not while i was growing up.
not ever.my grandmother had been placed in a convent when she turned thirteen.
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The One and Only Time I went to Sunday School as a 5 year old boy
by Terry insunday schoolnobody…nobody went to church in my house.
not even on sunday.not while i was growing up.
not ever.my grandmother had been placed in a convent when she turned thirteen.
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Terry
SUNDAY SCHOOL
Nobody…
Nobody went to church in my house. Not even on Sunday.
Not while I was growing up. Not ever.
My grandmother had been placed in a convent when she turned thirteen. It was a few days after her first period ended.
Her stories about how she was treated by the nuns chilled me.
She spoke in an awed whisper about Jesus and her personal Bible was a beautiful miniature book made of polished ivory and the figure of Mary was carved into the cover - it emerged upward (bas relief).
My fingers touched her face and she seemed to smile.
Grandmother sat me in her lap and read her favorite Bible verses aloud when I was a small child. Her finger pointed as she read word by word…slowly…
This is how I learned to read while still very young.
As Jesus spoke the strangest thing occurred - His words turned red!
“Why don’t we go to church?” I asked.
Oddly enough, I got my answer through personal experience. I’ll tell you about that now… …
(1953)
In my front yard, hanging from the limb of my favorite tree, listening to a hundred cicadas scraping away in the hot summer sunshine, a rumbling came. I must have been six years old.
A large yellow bus rolled under the shade trees and squeaked to a stop.
A burly stranger emerged. He stalked straight over to my tree as though he meant to startle me. This he surely did!I had been cautioned: never talk to strangers!
His bright yellow bus wobbled with cantankerous children whose clamors now reached me clear across the grassy patch of yard.
Black letters stenciled along the vehicle’s side read:VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL
I slipped off the tree branch and landed like a spooked cat on my feet as the large man approached and spoke.
"Which church do you attend, son?"
It was unthinkable that I not answer. "None!" I blurted.
I wasn't sure why a sense of shame crept over me. I had a vague notion everybody probably ought to go to church. Maybe I'd heard kids at school talk about whatever church they attended. Yet, shame it was that welled up inside of me. I trembled.
The bus driver blotted out the sun. I was standing in his shadow as he spoke in a low, gentle voice.
"Your parents don't make you go to Sunday school?"
There was wonderment in his tone. I felt fevered heat welling up in my cheeks.
"I don't have a Dad. My parents divorced." I whispered.
My entire world was revealed in one nervous sentence! Why had I said it?In my sullen imagination, I was a child both inferior and defective. A boy without a father may be thought of as a bastard, you see.
I was confessing the last thing I wanted any soul to know or suspect!
The school bus man studied me the way kids peer at spiders using a magnifying glass and an attitude of detached concern.
"I need to speak to your Mom. Do you live in this house?" He gestured.
His voice left no room for anything but the truth."I live here, uh-huh."
I pointed at my grandparent’s hand-built house resting on concrete blocks behind him.
The dark shadow of a man loped over to the door at the top of three steps.
Before he could knock, I noticed my grandma positioned behind the screen door. She spoke a greeting to the man.
I really didn't want to hear anything they said to each other. If I didn’t move or listen or think about what was being said. It. I wished to be invisible; like hiding under the bedcovers from a monster.
Their adult conversation was brief. I hadn't moved even half an inch.
He returned to my side."I spoke to your grandma telling her all children must attend their Creator’s house on Sabbath. Listen, I'll pick you up next Sunday. See that bus over there? I’ll arrive at 9 am sharp; unless I’m early or late. Be clean. Be ready.”
No smile. I was his captive.
He gave me a look that seemed to say, 'Do you understand English?'
I just shrugged and nodded.
"I'm called Brother Branch." He continued staring at me expecting something.
I determined to hold my breath and slip from notice as soon as possible."And, what is your name?" He finally asked with quiet exasperation.
"Oh, um - Terry."
He cocked his head a bit allowing my words to slide into memory. Then, he nodded, turned, and left.
As abruptly as the incident began he was back on the bus. A rude sound ground away at the gears until every part of the yellow mirage vanished in a shimmering puff of dust and smoky sunlight.
Immediately I let out a lung full of pent-up air in a slow whoosh, trembling as though a big dog had wandered onto the property and opted not to bite me.
I felt a little relief.
I was surrounded by a copse of rustling green branches overhead whispering warnings in the wind. Under a canopy of trees. My world.
Something still bothered me. A sense of dread welled up.
I realized for the first time - I was obligated to God. I was obligated to God…
One week to the day, I stood on my front porch, eyes scanning the highway.
I was a five-year-old boy all slicked up in an uncomfortable white shirt and slacks; I nervously waited. Inside my pocket was a rolled-up dollar bill my Maw-maw offered, which she explained was for contribution or the collection plate sure to come.Inside my head felt like a hive of angry bees.
All I knew is I was obligated. No escape. God was coming for me in a rickety yellow bus.
Until now, my Sundays were good for swinging on a long rope and yodeling my Tarzan yell. Not today. My life no longer belonged only to me.
I had no notion of what to expect or what was expected of me.
Bashful around strangers and without charm or guile, I was the very portrait of a pathetic child who, it seems, somehow appears to beg to be teased.
Photographs of me until the age of eighteen portray a hang dog countenance.
Most adult strangers greeted me for the first time with “What’s wrong; are you okay?” I seldom was. I was a wild child with no brothers, sisters, or playmates.
Vibrations in the air preceded gear torture as the manhandled yellow vehicle coughed into view. I trudged forward; a prisoner to the gallows.
The mouth of the beast opened and swallowed me whole.
The bus ride to Brother Branch’s church was merriment for the kids who were teasers and bullies. I was taunted for having a “girl’s name.” Terry. I had been named after a comic strip character. He was a jet pilot in TERRY and the PIRATES, supposedly my father’s favorite. In the early 50s masculinity was the most important trait a boy was expected to possess and exude. Now suddenly, I was being told my name belonged only to girls!
The little morons of the Sunday School bully squad were good little Christians one and all. Which is to say - my first impression was no different from any of the mean kids on my block in my neighborhood. What was that scripture my Maw Maw read?
Suffer the children.
I grasped the passenger strap standing as close to the bus driver as I could manage.
Brother Branch completely ignored all screaming and horseplay as no adult I’d ever witnessed! One bellow from his barrel chest surely would have quelled the riot and sent the flock scattering as lambs fleeing a bolt of lightning.
No such luck. Brother Branch drove furiously across every terrain as though testing the aptitude of guardian angels.
All passengers were disgorged and shepherded into a crowded Sunday school classroom upon arrival. The interior room revealed itself as ordinary and secular in every way…
Except for one jarring detail…
Sunday school’s walls stood littered with dozens of badly colored Bible characters tacked everywhere. Helter-skelter assaulted my wondering eyes!
Religious-themed coloring books got passed around our table with boxes of ill-treated crayons heaped into a community pile.
This bounty was swiftly set upon by filthy hands and nimble fingers. Purple and green Bible heroes from tiny hallucinating Christian boys appeared the norm.
Floating halos suggested Jesus’ head was the object of a celestial ring toss!
I recalled the shortest verse of scripture in Maw-maw’s Catholic Bible:
“Jesus wept.”
My drawing of Daniel in the den of lions wore a sympathetic expression of confident woe.
Our Lady of the Blue Hair and twinkly glasses proclaimed to us that our talent was miraculous. Then, as wretched swine, she herded us squealing into the main Church auditorium for adult services!
Blood of the lamb
My first interior glimpse of the church slammed into my brain; stained glass and candles, numinous artifacts, and solemn faces in service to Almighty God! I sniffed the acrid mixture of old lady perfume, cheap aftershave, and little boy sweat. Bedazzling pearl necklaces, beehive hairdos, cheek rouge makeup like portraits in a fevered dream.
Impressions were clear and direct: these people were unhinged. Why spend a perfectly good Sunday posed in uncomfortable clothing standing and sitting and standing again? Why would God need this or expect it of us, I wondered.
An adult beside me offered to share her Hymnal. I was not familiar with such a masculine word! I rolled it around in my mind: Him Null.
Opening the gilded songbook, a row of serious poetic verses proclaimed an endless caterwaul of Praises.
Organ music made me mindful of Grandma’s radio soap operas. Pepper Young’s Family, Search for Tomorrow, The Guiding Light.
These TV shows were sponsored by Ajax, the foaming cleanser. (Wash the dirt right down the drain.) I could sing that.
The collection plate passed like a bucket brigade at a fire. I tugged the sweaty dollar bill from my pocket to quench the flames of hell. All the while, up at the lectern, a voluminous voice volleyed praises while admonishing goodness and forbearance from sin.
Thoughts dulled and somehow I drifted until I beheld the entire congregation rapt in intense scrutiny of the floor! No. It was a moment of prayer!
“Why look down when speaking to God who is surely up?” I wondered.
Church folk screwed their eyes intensely shut. Some gripped the Bible in their wrinkled hands as thrumming energy caught the air.
What was coming?
The mood changed ominously. Spindly arms waved about, then, a swaying of bodies, gibbering voices: calling, answering, rattling. Soon, lowing noises erupted as shivering folk dropped to the floor.
“(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
The Saints smiled gravely and they said: “He’s come.” (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
Walking lepers followed, rank on rank, Lurching bravos from the ditches dank,Drabs from the alleyways and drug fiends pale— Minds still passion-ridden, soul-powers frail.— Vermin-eaten saints with the moldy breath, Unwashed legions with the ways of Death—
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)”
What kind of weird song or poetry was this?
My head was pounding! A dizzy fear suddenly engulfed my soul.
A strong hand pulled at me, jerking me out of the pew and out behind a curtain.
The next moment I found myself alone in a small, cramped cloakroom. Someone entered. Brother Branch was removing his cassock, shirt, and trousers. All the while, his voice thrummed and wavered as the organ swelled. The congregation moaned.
Now, the echoes!
(General William Booth Enters Into Heaven, music by Charles Ives, lyric by Vachel Lindsey.)
What sort of religious group could this possibly be? Flabbergasting utterances, weird movements of body twitching all around me …
It was almost a snake pit of writhing movement, ululations, and wide-eyed frenzy.
Tambourines clattered fast staccato rhythm and clapping, feet stomping, and singing clattered against stain glass and volleyed against hardwood pews.
Was I standing on a battlefield? Am I a Christian soldier now?
Is this the reason nobody in my family ever went to church? Now at last - I understood1Are you washed? Are you washed?
Are you washed? IN THE BLOOD?
On the bus ride back to my house I was still shaking. What in the world was that all about? I knew one thing for certain; I would not return to Church! To me, the Sabbath was a kind of vile Halloween. I solemnly understood those three words: Fear-of-God.
The bus ground to a stop.
God roared off spitting gravel and smoke while I stood stunned at my own curbside. My neighborhood did not look the same one I’d left - but it was. It was me. I had suddenly changed.
Inside my house, Maw-maw softly inquired of the day’s experience.
I shuffled a bit and squirmed as though my skin were clothed in nettles. If I lied and said it was okay, surely the whole ordeal would be revisited upon me.
If I said I hated it, I would offend God.
“I’d much rather spend the day with you, Maw-maw!”
Her face flickered with surprised pleasure.
It would be another six years before I’d enter another house of worship.
It wouldn’t be a church - it would be a Kingdom Hall …
My one trip to Sunday School was nothing like I’d imagined. There was no white dove descending out of heaven for me. I didn’t realize what had actually occurred. -
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Is there ANY possibility at all that the WatchTower and the Governing Body has the TRUTH? (You're about to find out)
by Terry inin my opinion, having been a jehovah's witness for twenty years as well as being an ex-jw for forty-three years,is that the following talk as given by peter gregerson, emphatically removes any shadow of a doubt aboutwhether the claim for the faithful slave has any merit whatsoever.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytcj6smffbk&t=3145s.
note: (references to the publication the finished mystery are given.
you can read the entire book here:https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46016/46016-pdf.pdf.
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Terry
I got the sense that Peter was what used to be called a "solid citizen", meaning: the kind of guy
you'd trust and who would go to the mat for you. -
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WATCHTOWER's RTO (Remote translation offices) like this one are million dollar luxury locations
by Terry inmore than 60 percent of our full-time translation teams work, not at branch offices, but at remote translation offices (rto).
why is this arrangement beneficial?
what equipment do translators need in order to work effectively at an rto?
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Terry
Does anybody know the year it was sold, by whom (legally), and for what price?
Being able to solidify facts makes it easier to open JW minds. Thank you!
There are said to be many such RTO locations and I'd love to be able to identify where they are located. -
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Is there ANY possibility at all that the WatchTower and the Governing Body has the TRUTH? (You're about to find out)
by Terry inin my opinion, having been a jehovah's witness for twenty years as well as being an ex-jw for forty-three years,is that the following talk as given by peter gregerson, emphatically removes any shadow of a doubt aboutwhether the claim for the faithful slave has any merit whatsoever.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytcj6smffbk&t=3145s.
note: (references to the publication the finished mystery are given.
you can read the entire book here:https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46016/46016-pdf.pdf.
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Terry
scholar "I am pleased that it is a momentous piece of our Christian Heritage."
How then can it be explained that such a "piece of Christian Heritage" is not available
on JW.org?
If something is true how can it be outdated or consigned to obliteration in the libraries of all Kingdom Halls?
Your comment about 'sound scholarship' leaves me wondering what that could possibly mean?
It is one thing -
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WATCHTOWER's RTO (Remote translation offices) like this one are million dollar luxury locations
by Terry inmore than 60 percent of our full-time translation teams work, not at branch offices, but at remote translation offices (rto).
why is this arrangement beneficial?
what equipment do translators need in order to work effectively at an rto?
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Terry
**MARCH 1, 2021
More than 60 percent of our full-time translation teams work, not at branch offices, but at remote translation offices (RTO). Why is this arrangement beneficial? What equipment do translators need in order to work effectively at an RTO? And how does the location of a translation team affect the quality of their translation?
An RTO allows translators to live where many people speak their language.
ARE WE READY TO “GO”?
A brief history of preparation for End Times_____________
In 1866, The Times of London wrote:
“For all practical purposes, Welsh is a dead language.”
You may well exclaim: “So what? Why should I care?”
Fair enough, let’s get to it…by fast-forwarding half a century!So, let us pose this question.
If you were a religious organization, would you be motivated to buy a $ 1,425,400 property for the purpose of setting up a Welsh language translation center?Ah - but what if …
What if it looked like this?This looks like a pleasant location, doesn’t it?
Or
Most fortunate location for. . .translating religious writing into WELSH.
The Watchtower Organization made this purchase for $ 1,425,400.00
The real estate sales brochure description below…Cast iron multi fuel burner on a raised slate hearth, six wall light points, television aerial point, engineered oak flooring, radiator, vaulted ceiling, double glazed patio doors, and double glazed windows to the rear and side from which there are views across the extensive rear garden and Menai Straits to the Isle of Anglesey.
Property descriptionSuperbly positioned above The Menai Strait with direct water access, the property comprises of entrance hallway, reception hallway, impressive open plan 'live in kitchen/family room', lounge, sitting room, games room, 2 studies, utility, cloakroom, shower room, 5 double bedrooms, four en-suites, and a family bathroom. The property benefits from having gas central heating, double glazing, a garage, and established landscaped gardens with decked areas and a pond. The property enjoys a fantastic sea view of The Menai Strait, The Menai Suspension Bridge, and across to Anglesey.
(See Menai Suspension Bridge below)
Surely this fine location does represent value for the people whose contributions paid for it.
Finding PR or news release information has, so far, proved difficult. Watchtower corporation in Wales is listed as a charitable organization.
**At JW.org this general statement is given:
MARCH 1, 2021
“More than 60 percent of our full-time translation teams work, not at branch offices, but at remote translation offices (RTO). Why is this arrangement beneficial? What equipment do translators need in order to work effectively at an RTO? And how does the location of a translation team affect the quality of their translation?An RTO allows translators to live where many people speak their language.”
Watchtower has also been closing buildings in other parts of the world, cutting loose long-established workers near retirement age, and at the same time investing in exclusive communities, establishing media facilities, and property such as viewed above for “translation” purposes.
In 2016, three properties valued at an estimated $850 million to $1 billion—including the headquarters building—were put up for sale. The WatchTower Society reached a deal to sell the headquarters at Columbia Heights alone for $700 million.
A spokesperson reported that after reportedly high overheads, a ‘cash crunch’ has necessitated the sale of some of the religious order’s more valuable real estate around the world, which is now set to include the majority of its UK property portfolio by selling off the properties and centralizing its organization in the town of Warwick,
in upstate New York. The Daily Mail reported that the sale should generate around $1 billion for the Witnesses.
Now a similar story is happening in London, as the Jehovah’s Witnesses registered charity that deals with UK property, personnel management, and magazine distribution, the International Bible Students Association, or IBSA, is asking for expressions of interest for 29 properties around Mill Hill in northwest London.Accounts value the entire portfolio at £73 million, but the actual sales are expected to bring in funds well in excess of that.
Winding down to the last days of the last days definitely requires lots of cash as well as more secure surroundings. Naturally, the witness's word of warning includes others and will require translating the message into all languages.
If you want to give your children a useful tool for the modern world then have them speak English, Spanish, maybe French, or even Chinese. Speaking the all-but-dead Welsh language is not seen as a wasted opportunity better spent on other more useful things.
This property is for Watchtower executives, translators for visiting Governing Body members (to wait out the Great Tribulation?) while the rank and file are in their Bunkers, with their Go-bags eating nutritious rations.
PREPPER WORK is a strategy going way back in Watchtower history reminding us of another previous Watchtower venture from 1929, better known as the House of Princes.
This was built in 1929 to house the newly resurrected “Ancient Worthies” such as Abraham, David, and other Old Testament men of faith which were supposed to have been already resurrected in the year 1925, as repeatedly predicted by the Faithful Slave from 1917 in the book THE FINISHED MYSTERY and in public lectures. (Note: it didn’t happen. The resurrection - didn’t - but the house did happen.)__________________________
WatchTower President, "Judge" Joseph F. Rutherford was enjoying the paradise-like conditions of San Diego at Beth-Sarim, a secret property was also purchased near Beth-Sarim in 1939 with similar expectations although not discussed in WatchTower literature.This secret 75-acre prime real estate property was also expected to house the resurrected Moses and other heroes of the faith. The added benefit was since they were expected to return shortly, just prior to Armageddon and worldwide wars, they would have 2 hidden underground bomb shelters protected with 3 feet of concrete overhead and storage provisions for months.
They would be totally self-sufficient at Beth-shan with their own 425-foot well and 10,000-gallon storage tank. Electricity would be provided by a state-of-the-art diesel-powered generator and a 4,000-gallon underground tank for diesel fuel. Water was piped to the house and 2 fire hydrants would protect them from fires. The real beauty of such a secure compound is there was plenty of room for the safety of the WatchTower leadership as well. Perhaps they could bring Abraham and his friends up to speed on the marvels of the 20th century and assist in the preparation of the Kingdom of God.
Beth-Shan is mentioned only ONCE by name in the Watch Tower publication, Consolation, predecessor to the "Awake!" magazine. The context is an article concerning the requested cemetery plot for Judge Rutherford since the original burial request at Beth-Sarim was denied by local officials.
"The judge decided to continue the case so that the new site could be brought before the Planning Commission... the second plot was a proper place for burial... The Planning Commission, which deliberated for more than two weeks, investigating the site, was haled before the court and denied the second application for a cemetery.... The new location for internment was almost in the center of the property known as Beth-Shan, which is roughly 75 acres of canyon and mesa land, adjoining Beth-Sarim but separated by a half-mile width of the canyon."(May 27, 1942 Consolation, p. 9)
The immediate personal use of this home and facilities in mild weather in San Diego would be immediately available to Rutherford. However, the deed to the property was for the noble reason of providing a haven for the arrival of faithful men and women of old as Abraham, Moses, Rahab, and Sarah.
A portion of the deed of trust reads as follows:“NOW THEREFORE this trust is created and the said trustee shall hold the title to said property in trust for the use and benefit of the following named persons, whose names appear in the Bible in the Book of Hebrews, chapter eleven, verses one to forty, to wit: Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Joseph, Moses, Rahab, Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthae, David, Samuel. Until such time as the aforementioned persons return and identify themselves to the legal representatives of the said WATCH TOWER BIBLE & TRACT SOCIETY and by the consent of said Society take possession and control of said premises, the President of the WATCH TOWER BIBLE & TRACT SOCIETY shall have the right and be duty-bound to direct the management and use of said premises…"
Unlike Beth-Sarim, this facility would be far more secure from the predicted coming of Armageddon. 2 bomb shelters, a diesel-powered generator with a 4,000-gallon underground tank for diesel fuel, and 10,000 gallons of water storage with 2 fire hydrants.
It wasn't long before rumors among witnesses began to be spread about this haven of security, which apparently prompted an indirect response from the WatchTower leadership:
"Some unreliable person is responsible for the circulation of a report that Beth-Sarim is being enlarged as a place of security and that this is being built by the Society.
There is absolutely not one word of truth in the report. Those who are interested in the Theocracy would better be circulating the kingdom message rather than false imaginations of others."(The Watchtower, June 1, 1940, p. 162)
Perhaps the leaders felt justified in stating "Beth-Sarim" was not being enlarged as a place of security, but the fact is the nearby Watch Tower property Beth-shan certainly was.
No doubt Rutherford believed his New Light prediction about the nearness of Armageddon and was preparing this haven of safety from the soon to be experienced explosions and poison he predicted years earlier:
“… the next war will be…an annihilation! There will be poison and explosion everywhere, beneath the whole canopy of the heavens…” (Golden Age, June 2, 1926, p. 55)
An interview with Fred Eason was an eyewitness to the goat barn bomb shelter.
Fred Eason said he saw the underground shelter shortly after it's sale in 1945.
He described the underground shelter with its secret entrance as a:"...building that was called the 'goat barn' which was used to stable their goats. To enter the shelter one would go to the small bathroom area at the rear of the building, open the medicine cabinet, and pull a concealed lever inside.
A section of the wall would swing open, revealing a stairway down into what can only be identified as a bomb shelter--a room about 30 feet x 15 feet, with a 10-foot high ceiling. The walls were lined with storage shelves.
The cement ceiling of the room was 3 feet thick!"
The building at upper right is the main Beth-Shan residence. The arrow points to the “goat barn” which had a secret bomb shelter (as did the main residence). Photo was taken after the sale of Beth-shan 1945.
1963 Aerial photo of Beth-Shan. Extensive grading on the property
revealed the hidden “goat barn” bomb shelter (arrow).
Not only did the princes NOT return to claim the estate at Beth Sarim as prophesied by Rutherford, but the Society simply ignored the promised trust to the princes and quietly sold the property soon after Rutherford's death in 1942.
1945 black and white photo of Beth-Shan (now hand-colored):
Beth-Shan house was built in 1939, ten years after Beth-Sarim on adjacent property. Beth-Shan, which means "House of Security" in Hebrew, was literally a house of security -(compound)*-
it was accessed by a single dirt road that was guarded and gated. It also had two secret bomb shelters to protect the Beth-shan/Beth-Sarim residents (such as the Society's second president, J.F. Rutherford).
The Society apparently kept the residence secret and did not publicize its very existence. The Society only mentioned Beth-shan once in its literature: May 27, 1942 Consolation magazine (now called Awake!)
The Society began building a burial crypt for Rutherford just below Beth-Sarim shortly before his death. After this site was denied by local authorities, the Society proposed a second site which was located on the Beth-shan property which was adjacent to Beth-Sarim. This second burial spot was also denied.
An aerial photo was taken in 1945:
(Note: the airstrip at the left was built shortly after the sale of this property in 1945)
The long building to the left of the cul-de-sac is the "goat barn" which had a secret bomb shelter (as did the main residence).
The remote inaccessibility is better seen from the following angle:
The deed to the Beth-shan house and property were, like Beth-Sarim, made out to Abraham, David, and the other Old Testament "princes." In reading the deed to Beth-Shan, one could get the impression that it is simply Beth-Sarim, part II --the two deeds are very similar. Both of the residences and property were held in "trust" by the Watchtower Society's leaders for the Old Testament "princes" awaiting their return.
According to Fred Eason, who was later to purchase some of the Beth-shan property and residence (discussed below), the dirt road which was accessible through a gate, was also guarded by JWs, so unauthorized individuals couldn't enter. He first stumbled onto the Society's building of the Beth-shan residence while he was looking for "Young's Cave," a series of manmade caves or tunnels in the area. He was "rebuffed" by "several men on horseback" and watched the building of Beth-shan from a different side of the mesa canyon.
Telephone interviews with Fred Eason, Dec. 3, 1996, and a letter dated Dec. 12, 1996, from Eason for publication, p. 70.Monuments, p. 70.
Another building, a "goat barn" had a secret bomb shelter as well. It was a long building apparently used to house goats. At the rear of the building was a bathroom. Fred Eason bought 30 acres of the Beth-shan property including the goat barn. In a letter to Ed Gruss he wrote of its bomb shelter:
To enter the shelter one would go to the small bathroom area at the rear of the building, open the medicine cabinet, and pull a concealed lever inside. A section of the wall would spring open, revealing a stairway down into what can only be identified as a bomb shelter--a room about 30 feet x 15 feet, with a ten-foot-high ceiling. The walls were lined with storage shelves. The cement ceiling of the room was 3 feet thick!"
Monuments book:
“A person could go into the bathroom and would never know that the shelter was there. When a house was built on the property in 1967 it was placed on the lot so as to keep the shelter intact, and it still exists today.”
ARMAGEDDON PREPPERS!
Watchtower Society in the 1920s and 1930s taught that the "next war" would lead to Armageddon and result in the Theocracy or Kingdom of God on Earth. That teaching detailed that there would be a war fought primarily or exclusively in the air with poison gas and bacterial (germ) bombs which would obliterate most life on earth. For example, they said:
*... the next war will be a completion [of the First World War] and therewith an annihilation! There will be poison and explosion everywhere, beneath the whole canopy of the heavens.... Poison will be mechanically wafted forward and backward by unmanned airplanes, going up into the atmosphere and descending to the earth.”
The compact, thickly-populated, highly -industrialized centers of civilization will be drenched with gases, bathed in a liquid fire, and sown with bacteria. Unquenchable conflagrations will overspread the sky with a blanket of smoke... Perhaps some previous preparation will have been made of elaborate subterranean tunnels and chambers in anticipation of this awful time.
When the totalitarian Catholic combine gains control of the British Isles, which it is certain to do, then all the liberties of the people will be at an end... What will be the condition when all nations become totalitarian?.... The totalitarian combine is going to get control of England and America. You cannot prevent it. Do not try.
Rutherford, J.F., Face the Facts, 1938, pp. 20, 21, p. 27.
Watchtower Society did its own preparation for this future calamity in building Beth-shan (House of Security) with two bomb shelters. Perhaps "Young's Cave" with its series of underground tunnels on the property was an appealing feature in their decision to buy the property!The reason for the storage shelves in the bomb shelters is they believed that great famines would soon occur worldwide, including in the United States. This was also brought out in the "Demon Rule Ending" articles:
A great famine is certain to afflict the many nations of the earth in the very near future. The United States is also in line for much suffering.... the United States is faced with a world disaster now impending and about to fall...
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Is there ANY possibility at all that the WatchTower and the Governing Body has the TRUTH? (You're about to find out)
by Terry inin my opinion, having been a jehovah's witness for twenty years as well as being an ex-jw for forty-three years,is that the following talk as given by peter gregerson, emphatically removes any shadow of a doubt aboutwhether the claim for the faithful slave has any merit whatsoever.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytcj6smffbk&t=3145s.
note: (references to the publication the finished mystery are given.
you can read the entire book here:https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46016/46016-pdf.pdf.
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Terry
His method or methodology is so simple, matter-of-fact, and effective!
Was Watchtower teaching anything worthy of being selected by Jesus in 1918/1919?
Read THE FINISHED MYST ERY and find out!
Total bullshit teaching unworthy of Jesus. Judgment rendered: Watchtower does NOT qualify. -
14
Is there ANY possibility at all that the WatchTower and the Governing Body has the TRUTH? (You're about to find out)
by Terry inin my opinion, having been a jehovah's witness for twenty years as well as being an ex-jw for forty-three years,is that the following talk as given by peter gregerson, emphatically removes any shadow of a doubt aboutwhether the claim for the faithful slave has any merit whatsoever.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytcj6smffbk&t=3145s.
note: (references to the publication the finished mystery are given.
you can read the entire book here:https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46016/46016-pdf.pdf.
-
-
Terry
In my opinion, having been a Jehovah's Witness for twenty years as well as being an Ex-JW for forty-three years,
is that the following talk as given by PETER GREGERSON, emphatically removes any shadow of a doubt about
whether the claim for the Faithful Slave has ANY MERIT whatsoever.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTcj6SmFfbk&t=3145sNOTE: (references to the publication THE FINISHED MYSTERY are given. You can read the entire book here:
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/46016/46016-pdf.pdf -
11
WHERE do I live? Some people call it COWTOWN
by Terry inwhere do i live?.
people say: cowtown.
i say: it ain't.. i've lived in fort worth all but ten of my seventy-five years.. nobody ever asked me why fort worth is called cow town.. i would guess it is self-evident.. how many of us who live in fort worth realize those two words are gleaming with history?.
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Terry
Nah nah
non non nah nah -
4
(Poppa was a ) GUITAR MAN
by Terry in(poppa was a) guitar manpoppa drank from muddy waters made three sons and then four daughtersmomma owns the things he bought her for a songshe lived like old blind lemonbut his messin’ with wild women done her wrongi found him in new orleans livin’ off one of his darlingsin a jail drunk on rye whisky just becausehe’d broken every law there ever wasi bailed his sorry ass out, took him home and watched him pass outthen he woke up, swore he’d do it all againfriends tell me not to bother, i’ll become just like my fatherin bars on bad guitars like my old manhe’d sing:“there’s no harm in harmony and nothin’ fair about farewell,one of these days i’ll mend my waysor end up down in hell.”_____(i got) one old silver dollar in a suitcase in the parlorpoppa’s porkpie hat and coat are down the hallgonna break a pawn shop window snatch his guitar quick and then gograb a southbound bus to nachadoches townbar chords earn my living, and some women are forgivingwhen i sing the things the lady loves to heargirls with lonely faces sipping beer in lowdown placesguitar man’s the candy for her earnow i sing:“darlin’ i sure love you, my oh my if you piss me off this bird is gonna flyboo-yah - why oh why ohdo i do the thing that makes my baby cry?”______you can live for love or glory but the moral of this storyis that fate determines “what, where, when, and why”some of us are teachers, plumbers, bums, or holy preachersin the end my friend, we’re all a-gonna die_______poppa was a guitar man he sang the blues but had no plannow i’m the acorn from his crooked oak, i play for drunks and sing for mealsor break a window and i stealjust go ahead and laugh but i’m no joke________some cats fall - land on their toes (but that’s just how their story goes)dogs chase cars - run over on the roadi pluck, and slide, and moan and waili got my tiger by its tailall a man can do is bear his load________bar chords earn my living, but some women are forgivingwhen i sing the things the ladies love to hearthose girls with lonely faces sipping beer in lowdown placesthis guitar man is the candy for their ears___________i got one old silver dollar that he left me when he diedmomma cried and called to tell me at the bar.
i told her i was sorry, she said,.
“you know what you are?”i guess i maybe should have, could have lied.
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Terry
(Poppa was a) GUITAR MAN
Poppa drank from Muddy Waters
made three sons and then four daughters
Momma owns the things he bought her
for a song
She lived like old Blind Lemon
But his messin’ with wild women
done her wrong
I found him in New Orleans
livin’ off one of his darlings
in a jail drunk on rye whisky just because
He’d broken every law there ever was
I bailed his sorry ass out,
took him home and watched him pass out
Then he woke up, swore he’d do it all again
Friends tell me not to bother,
I’ll become just like my father
In bars on bad guitars like my old man
He’d sing:
“There’s no harm in harmony
and nothin’ fair about farewell,
one of these days I’ll mend my ways
or end up down in Hell.”
_____
(I got) one old silver dollar
in a suitcase in the parlor
Poppa’s porkpie hat and coat are down the hall
Gonna break a Pawn Shop window
Snatch his guitar quick and then go
grab a southbound bus to Nachadoches town
Bar chords earn my living, and some women are forgiving
When I sing the things the lady loves to hear
Girls with lonely faces sipping beer in lowdown places
Guitar Man’s the candy for her ear
Now I sing:
“Darlin’ I sure love you, my oh my
If you piss me off this bird is gonna fly
Boo-Yah - why oh why oh
Do I do the thing that makes my baby cry?”
______
You can live for love or glory
but the moral of this story
Is that Fate determines “what, where, when, and why”
Some of us are teachers,
plumbers, bums, or holy preachers
In the End my friend, we’re all a-gonna die
_______
Poppa was a Guitar Man
He sang the Blues but had no plan
Now I’m the acorn from his crooked oak,
I play for drunks and sing for meals
Or break a window and I steal
Just go ahead and laugh but I’m no joke
________
Some cats fall - land on their toes
(but that’s just how their story goes)
Dogs chase cars - run over on the road
I pluck, and slide, and moan and wail
I got my tiger by its tail
All a man can do is bear his load
________
Bar chords earn my living, but some women are forgiving
When I sing the things the ladies love to hear
Those girls with lonely faces
sipping beer in lowdown places
This Guitar Man is the candy for their ears
___________
I got one old silver dollar
That he left me when he died
Momma cried and called to tell me at the BarI told her I was sorry, she said,
“You know what you are?”
I guess I maybe should have, could have lied
I said: Poppa was a Guitar Man and so am I
I said:“We don't choose our lives because
I am just what I am!
I’m only what my daddy was…
and
Poppa was a Guitar Man ”
_____________________
I said “Poppa was a Guitar Man”
________________________
I don't know if this is a song, a poem, or just a waste of time! :)
