15-On to San Diego

 

I was at work at Sambo's restaurant when my dad called me from San Diego to inform me my great aunt Elsie had died and left me an inheritance. I barely knew her. I had seen her only on Thanksgiving or Christmas, perhaps five or six times, but in her will she had left me a good size trust fund to be used only for college. This was, to my dad, a "sign'  God wanted me to go to college. School's were cheaper in California he said. He counseled me that God wanted me to move to San Diego, as soon as possible. He said he would help me get settled, but that was yet another lie.

Neither myself, nor my wife, had ever been to Southern California. We were not sure we would even like it. Both born in the Pacific Northwest, southern California seemed like foreign territory, so we went first on vacation; see if it was to our liking; and, if it was, then we'd commit to a move. 

It took a couple months to prepare for this visit but we finally hit the road to San Diego. We drove straight through, except for one brief stop, for lunch, at a relatives' place near San Francisco. We arrived in San Diego dead tired, just in time for a meeting at Susan's house.  My eyes may have been open that evening, but my brain was definitely asleep.  I remember only my dad taught but I have no idea who was even there.

We spent less than a week in San Diego on this visit. We saw a few of the sights, including a jaunt north to Disneyland for a day, but the highlight of the trip for my wife was the beach at Coronado. She loved it more than Disneyland and this convinced her San Diego was the place she wanted to be.  I am not much of a "lay on the beach" person so I was not as thrilled about the beach as she was, but there definitely were a lot of other places to explore.

We returned to Klamath Falls. Shortly after the birth of our first child, I gave my notice at work; we loaded everything we owned in the car's trunk and set sail for San Diego.  This time, since we had our infant child with us, we did not drive straight through. We stopped just south of San Francisco for one night before continuing. Our daughter was born sick with some rather severe intestinal problems. Suffering chronic colic she was in constant pain from the condition. It made for a long drive with a continuously screaming infant in the back seat but we still arrived in San Diego in one piece. Only after the death of her son Cameron did we learn she carried a genetic mitochondrial defect and that was likely the source of her chronic colic as an infant.

On the vacation trip we had been introduced to Susan and a few others  but, this time, we were given the address of someone I had not yet met named David North. David,  and his wife, lived  in Imperial Beach;  just south of San Diego, and very close to the Mexican border. When we arrived at their apartment, the front door was wide open, inside were Navy guys laying all over the floor listening to music, talking, having fun and doing lots of eating.  Unlike most guys up north who had long hair; this was the 70s after all; these guys had neat and trim Navy haircuts. Everyone said "Hi', we were invited in with open arms and given something to eat.

David North was the brother of Jackie;  one of the original attendees at the Wilcrest apartment. She had introduced him to “the group”early on. David was in the Navy and these guys laying around the apartment were all friends he had introduced to "the group".  Everyone seemed  happy, the mood was mostly raucous, and the most prominent memory I have of that day was of a man named Gabriel who showed up with an enormous bag of figs. Not finding many takers for his figs he consumed nearly the whole bag by himself then became sick and had to leave the room. 

David North was on duty when we arrived but showed up later that evening. He seemed to me a nice guy, laid back and both he and his wife were tolerant of this gang of Navy guys just hanging around their house, relaxing, acting as if it were their own place. The David I knew then is not the David I know today.  He was a kind and gentle person then, very tolerant of others and had a quick smile. This would change. Years later, he would assume a leadership role in the ABC and was told his new name “given to him by God” was  "Face of Flint". This name was given to him  through “prophecy” by Andy Atwell; the "evangelist". I did not  regard the name given as a complimentary but it is however fitting.  The David I met on this first trip to San Diego was a man of  love, tolerance and was  seemingly very compassionate and humble. The David I know now, years later, is indeed stony faced and stony-hearted with little tolerance showing.   It is sad  this  man I once knew with a huge soft heart is now praised as having a hard face of flint. To me this only evidences the stone cold heart beneath.  If this was truly a prophecy of God by Andy, I do not believe it was meant to be complimentary as has been assumed.  A heart of mercy will always trump a stony face of judgment. The Pharisees of Jesus day were men with "faces of flint". This is not the example we should emulate.
So speak, and so do, as they that shall be judged by the law of liberty. For he shall have judgment without mercy, that has showed no mercy; and mercy triumphs over judgment.  James 2:12-13 
There was seldom a time when there was not at least one Navy guy lounging around David North's apartment; day or night.  The whole aura in San Diego seemed to be one of love and acceptance of each other's blemishes and wrinkles. I felt welcome at Dave and Cindy's house. We lived there for just a short while, on their living room floor, while I found work and a place to live.

Work was much more plentiful in San Diego than it was in the northwest. Finding a job took only about a week. My dad and Yvonne were still in San Diego when we arrived but,  soon after,  major trouble erupted up north. This was actually the same issues over tithe and autonomy that had been brewing under the surface since nearly the beginning. It had now erupted completely and was visible to all.  Even the “new babes” knew what was happening this time so my dad and Yvonne  left San Diego in  a rush and headed north and quell the problem.

I don't recall exactly how long they were gone. I believe it was about a month. When they returned, my dad had a letter he distributed to all the people in San Diego. He had already distributed this same letter in all the other areas on his way back down. It addressed the “problems up north", detailed the "disciplines" laid down and ordered the men causing trouble”, and their wives and entire families, to be shunned as "rebellious".  Some, including myself,  also received a tape of that meeting.

There had been discipline in the group prior to this event but this new level of discipline; born as a result of that Bob Mumford meeting a couple years earlier; was a massive ex-communication of peoples. It would leave the subjects completely humiliated and devastated. This practice is in stark contrast to scripture (which the ABC contends they follow more closely than all others) which tells us we are to build each other up and show mercy.  A few who were not in  leadership positions were  "disciplined" rather than fully ex-communicated that day, but these people were still forbidden to take communion and were told they must sit in the back of the room and could not speak.

Paul, in the scripture, realized he had it within his nature and temperament to cause such destruction by weight of his authority so rather than visit Corinth personally he sent them a letter instead. At the end of his letter to the Corinthian church (a church with some huge issues) he wrote:
Now I pray to God that you do no evil; not that we may appear approved, but that you may do that which is honorable, though we are as reprobate. For we can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth. For we rejoice when we are weak and you are strong. And this we also pray for, even your perfecting. For this cause I write these things while absent, that I may not deal sharply when present, according to the authority which the Lord gave me for building up, and not for tearing down. 2 Corinthians 13:7-10 
The tape they gave me was ninety minutes long but still did not contain a recording of the entire meeting. It is my understanding the meeting ran about three hours, or more, but there was only one blank tape available so only the first half of the meeting was actually recorded.  Ninety minutes was plenty of tape to realize the room was full of puffed up egos on both sides of the issue. There was a great deal of shouting back and forth with little true communication. Nothing in that room was being done for anyone's edification. The meeting bore no good fruit and it should have never happened. I listened only to a small segment of the tape before turning it off.  It was not edifying to listen to and only brought me sadness. These were people I knew very well and had been good friends with for many years. Many years later I found that tape again, during a move, so I listened to the entire ninety minutes. It was mostly just incoherent shouting, bickering and arguing over what seemed like petty matters. The predominant issue on my dad's side was still the differing viewpoint over when a person receives the Spirit; going into the water or coming  out; and the main target of the inquiry, Gary, tried to acquiesce many times, saying it was a minor point to him and he did not wish to argue it. My dad refused to let it go and continued to bulldog the point for the entire ninety minutes of tape and presumably for the entire three hours of meeting. The real issue was still money and autonomy but this subject was still being pushed aside to argue out this minor point.

All the people involved in this latest scuffle I would never see again. This would be the first of many arguments that would rise and "the group" would split again and again after unbearable "disciplines" were placed.  Based on my own event, a person is now even considered  "eternally judged" and is now forbidden to even speak in their own defense.  This new twist ends any arguments, makes the accuser always right; at least in their own eyes; and nearly finishes the progression of conquering people completely. I find it interesting that the accepted Revelation teaching is that people will become a conquered people.

I found work within days of moving to San Diego with Aero-Pacific vending. It was a good job. My wife and I would settle into our own place, and everything went well at first. I had a few conversations with the bank that held my college trust fund, discovered it was not large enough to pay my tuition and books, plus living expenses for a guy who now had a family so decided full time college would have to wait. I took only one night class for one year (1975-76).  Unlike high school, college was enjoyable and this small taste of higher learning made me look forward to continuing my education.  

After living in San Diego a short time  a man named Robin, and his first wife,  felt "impressed by God"  that I, and my family, should move with he and his family to Phoenix Arizona and begin meetings there.  My job with the vending company was  requiring me to go to some rather obscene book stores to service the machines so I decided it was probably best to quit that job anyhow. I gave notice at work and our apartment then one month later moved to Phoenix Arizona. Robin, and his family, intended  to follow us a few weeks later but his wife was pregnant and, since Robin had been in the Navy when she became pregnant, she wanted to give birth in San Diego at the Naval hospital. This way there would be no cost for the delivery. We waited and two short weeks later received a call from Robin telling us the baby had died shortly after birth and the plans to move to Phoenix had changed...they were no longer coming.  We now found ourselves alone  in the middle of a hot Phoenix summer with a small child and a  car with no air conditioning.  Phoenix was not turning out to be the picnic we had expected so we decided, that night, we would not stay. We begged the apartment manager to let us out of our one-year lease then made plans to move at the end of the month. After the dreadful heat of Phoenix we missed the Northwest and so decided not to return to San Diego and instead headed north. We drove back to San Diego, made a brief stop to visit, then headed north to the Apex Airpark. On our route, we also made a brief stop in Beaverton Oregon at Gilbert Larson's house. We lingered in Beaverton briefly and I spent a few weeks working with his surveying firm. I had previously spent part of a summer working with Gil as "rod man" on a crew in Northern California but I still knew very little about surveying. We went north to Silverdale but did not end up staying long. My dad came back to the area, sat us down, told us we were wrong to have left San Diego, and said “God wanted us to return to San Diego”. We were of course, obedient and returned.

We returned in the spring of 1977. I enrolled in Southwestern College as a full-time student and declared my major as undecided. My unspoken goal was to attend Southwestern for two years then transfer to a four-year school and pursue a degree in Geology. My goal then was to work for the United  States Geological Survey. I would have continued on this path except, in my first semester, I enrolled in a Psychology class. The class was part of the requirements to receive a transfer certificate from Southwestern to a four-year school.  My dad quizzed me about the classes I had enrolled in. When I mentioned the psychology class he chastised me and demanded I drop the class. The reason given was that it would “teach me earthly wisdom" and shake my faith in God”.  I had attended only one session of the class so I dropped it rather than fight my dad on the issue.  I then sought a major that did not require psychology and by necessity opted out of the transfer certificate.  I found only one path that did not require psychology and declared this new major. I have regretted not fighting my dad on this issue. It altered the career path I wanted and I truly do not think a few psychology classes would have shaken my faith in God. In fact it may have actually opened my eyes to the abusive manipulation of my father and his church. This is likely the real reason I was pressured to stay away from this class.

I continued at Southwestern College through Spring of 1978 when Proposition 13 closed the school. I was advised by the college there was a school in Hayward where I could finish my credits. The Hayward school would transfer these credits back to Southwestern for my degree.  I moved to Hayward but this school also ended up closing due to Prop 13. I called Southwestern and  they advised me I could attend an out-of-state school and they would still accept all the credits as their own and issue me a degree. I chose Rogue Community College in Grants Pass Oregon since I had known people in Grants Pass for years and loved the town. We gave notice on our apartment in Hayward after living there only one week and moved north to Grants Pass. 

Next, after a short "corporate history primer" I will cover my Grants Pass days and the turn of events that caused me to be ordered by my dad (who was now calling himself my "father in the Lord") to suddenly vacate Grants Pass and move back to San Diego. It would prove to be a very terrible decision to follow these instructions.

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