Silent But Deadly: the Chinese Version!

 

Silent But Deadly: the Chinese Version!

New York Times bestselling author, Amy Tan, a Chinese-American shares the following story in her book The Opposite of Fate: Memories of a Writing Life:

I was at yet another bookstore, about to give another reading. I was waiting in the wings, as the store manager delivered a long introduction on my credentials as an author. Glancing to my side, I saw a wire book rack crammed with cheap and familiar booklets. They were CliffsNotes, self-proclaimed as “your key to the classics.”

CliffsNotes have served as the midnight salvation of many a literature student, and if the sad truth be known, this former honors English major used them to write incisive papers on—dare I say it?—Ulysses, Lord Jim, and Hamlet.

Imagine: There I was, in a bookstore, recalling these past sins, about to read from my own published work. I gave a silent apology to my fellow authors Jim Joyce, Joe Conrad, and Bill Shakespeare, may they rest in peace. And then my eyes landed on another familiar title: The Joy Luck Club. I stared at those CliffsNotes, thinking to myself, But I’m not dead yet.

I flipped through the pages and found an obituary-like biography of the author, me, Amy Tan. I was shocked to learn that I had once carried on “a relationship with an older German man, who had close contacts with drug dealers and organized crime.”

Could this possibly be describing my Franz? Does my personal history of having once dated a loser constitute the sort of information needed by “serious students,” as Cliff refers to them? Will this make them “secure in the knowledge that they have a working understanding of the work”?

In page after chilling page, I saw that my book had been hacked apart, autopsied, and permanently embalmed into chapter-by-chapter blow-by-blows: plot summaries, genealogy charts—and ai-ya—even Chinese horoscopes. Further in, I was impressed to learn of all the clever nuances I’d apparently embedded into the phrase “invisible strength”. According to Cliff, I meant for “invisible strength” to refer to the “human will,” as well as to represent “female power” and “the power of foreigners.” It was amazing what I had accomplished.

The truth is I borrowed that phrase from my mother, who used to say something like it whenever I was whining out loud. She’d say, “Fang pi bu-cho, cho pi bu-fang,” which is commonly uttered by Chinese parents, and which translates approximately to: “There’s more power in silence.”

What my mother intended, that I understand, however, was precisely this: “No one wants to hear you make a big stink over nothing, so shut up.” The strict linguist might want to note that the literal translation of that Chinese phrase runs along these noble lines: “Loud farts don’t smell, the really smelly ones are deadly silent.”

Anyway, that’s the sort of literary symbolism I use with phrases like “invisible strength”—not the sort of analysis you find in CliffsNotes, I might add.

“How Does GOD Respond to Us?” (Grace Note #3)

 

“How Does GOD Respond to Us?” (Grace Note #3)

Written by Gary L. Clendenon, September 17, 2014

In a recent devotional talk, Pastor Brad Paice talked about the challenges of having a two-year-old daughter. Anyone who has been a parent of or even observed a two-year-old knows what this means. At two, a child first discovers they have a self and that self can make decisions. They can say “Yes!” and they can say “No!” And somehow, as we all know, “No!” seems to be the word chosen most! They have identified that they have a will and they are going to exert it!

We've all seen what comes next when that two-year-old old child doesn't get want it wants: crying, screaming, temper tantrums, throwing themselves on the floor, etc. These are challenging times for parents, but we soldier on knowing that we'll all get through it and be better for it. We know that we are trying to teach our children well—even if they can't see it. We continue to love our child—in spite of their messy, cantankerous behavior. We even have some positive moments and see glimpses of the wonderful child they are underneath this passing phase.

Truth be told, we adults have our two-year-old moments with GOD. You know it's true. We want things to go our way! And when they don't, we sometimes throw our own hissy-fit. How does GOD respond to our immaturity? Jesus says in Matthew 7:9-11 “If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn’t think of such a thing. You’re at least decent to your own children. So don’t you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?” (The Message Bible)

We know how as parents we respond as best we can to our own children. How does the God of the Universe respond to us in perfect love? GOD is the Proud Parent who, in spite of our two-year-old defiance, lights up with pride when in our own imperfect way we attempt to do anything He's taught us—like a two-year-old horribly mangling "The ABC Song" (and how we find that "cute" and "sweet"). Like any proud parent, GOD gushes with enthusiasm and affirmations at our feeble efforts and says with a large smile on His face and a twinkle in His eye, "That's perfect, my child—just perfect!"

I believe that if we understood this down to the heart level, it would change our lives. It would change our relationship with and understanding of Our Heavenly Parent. It would change our relationship with and understanding of ourselves and our value and worth. And, both of these would change our relationships with and understanding toward each other. And that would change our Church and our World! Here's to that GOD of Love and Grace. May He fully inhabit our hearts, minds, and bodies—now and forever more!

"Boredom vs. Adventure" (Grace Note #12)

 

“Boredom vs. Adventure”

(Grace Note #12)

By Gary L. Clendenon, August 31, 2024

In Psychiatrist Andrew Hodges' 1986 fictional book Jesus: An Interview Across Time, Jesus, in answer to the first question of the interview, speaks to God's lack of popularity: “If God is not very popular today, it is not his fault. It is the people who tell his story. They are using the wrong version.”

“Which version is that?” asks the interviewer. “The boring version.” Jesus replies.

Over 2,000 years, some of us Christians have become a bit too settled into our lives and our version of God's story. We have become much like Bilbo Baggins in the story of The Hobbit who responded to Gandalf's desire to find a hobbit to go on an adventure: “We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty, disturbing things! Make you late for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them. … We don't want any adventures here, thank you!”

Instead of adventure, many of us are tempted to choose the much safer comfort and security of structured routine and, though most of us wouldn't admit to it, eventual boredom. Famous blind woman, Helen Keller had something interesting to say about this path: “Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”

Christian authors John and Stasi Eldredge have written many books that include this theme of adventure. They assert strongly that God created us for adventure and that “Life is not a problem to be solved; it is an adventure to be lived.” (1) They quote Oswald Chambers as saying, “...gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness; it should rather be an expression of breathless expectation.” (2)

This is a challenging teaching for me, as I tend to be very hobbit-like in my approach to life. Some of you will embrace it with 100% all in, as illustrated by the following quote: “Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming: 'Wow—what a Ride!'

My more gentle approach to this teaching is to become aware that whether I acknowledge it or not, life is an adventure! I want to have that kind of mindset that sees life that way and instead of freaking out at every unexpected thing that pops up, do what my children encouraged me to do: Yell out “Plot twist!” and embrace what comes as part of “The Great Adventure”—trusting that my Heavenly Father is in control and has my back. This, of course, leads me to share with you an awesome, uplifting song by Steven Curtis Chapman—The Great Adventure (Click for song). 

P.S. If you would like some help viewing life as an adventure and/or getting unstuck or out of a rut, I would highly encourage you to consider the “Foundations” weekend seminar. There is actually an upcoming seminar: October 11-13 in Portland, Oregon. Click here for more information. 

FOOTNOTES:

1. Wild at Heart, p. 200.

2. Ibid, p. 209.

"A 2nd World War Two Miracle"

 

"A 2nd World War 2 Miracle"

For the 1st Miracle story, click here.

From A Thousand Shall Fall by Susie Hasel Mundy, 2001

"Winter Rescue"

Adapted by Gary L. Clendenon, 2024

After the end of World War Two, in the middle of the winter, Helene Hasel, a Christian woman living in Frankfurt, Germany was on a trip to find food for her desperately starving family. She rode the packed train with many others looking for food in the countryside as they headed towards the Vogelsberg Mountains. She got off the train at the Eschenrod station and walked the two miles to the village where she had some friends, a light snow falling as she arrived.

Helene was warmly received by the Jost family who, when they learned of the hunger in the city, loaded her down with food until she felt like St. Nikolaus at Christmas packed with gifts for the children. Hunger would be banished for many weeks. Frau Jost insisted that Helene spend the night and retire early and promised to wake her up in time to catch the horse-drawn sled that made the trip to the railway station early each morning.

With a full heart, Helene knelt beside the bed thanking her heavenly Father for fulfilling her needs and asking protection for her and her children the next day. Then she climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep.

When she heard Frau Jost’s knock on the door, it seemed impossible that the night had already passed. Frau Jost stuck her head in the door. “Frau Hasel, you might as well stay in bed.”

“Why?” Helene murmured, still half asleep.

“It will be impossible for you to leave today. It’s been snowing all night. The sled won’t go to the station this morning. Even the snowplow won’t go out until the storm stops.”

Helene stepped to the window, and her heart sank. Deep white drifts covered everything in sight, and enormous flakes still fell from the sky.

Desperately she turned to the old woman. “I’ve got to leave,” she said. “The children have no food, and I promised them that I would be back tonight. They’ll be so worried if I don’t come. God will watch over me, and if I leave right away, I can get there in time for the afternoon train to Frankfurt.”

“Frau Hasel, you have at least 80 pounds of food, and there’s no way you can walk. If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”

“I must go,” Helene said firmly.

Seeing that Helene could not be talked out of her plan, Frau Jost fixed a sturdy breakfast and while the younger woman ate, Frau Jost went into her pantry and returned with some little treats for the children, which she stuffed into every nook of the bulging bags.

Helene was unable to restrain her tears of gratitude. “How will I ever thank you?”

“No need to thank me,” said Frau Jost, her own eyes wet with tears. “I am glad to help. Just pass the favor on to someone else when you are able to. May God protect you.”

Helene embraced the old couple, and then set out. When she reached the bend in the road, she turned back one last time. They still stood watching in their doorway. Helene paused for a moment taking in the scene of the quaint cottage in the cozy village covered in snow. She lifted her hand, and the couple responded with a last wave. Though she did not know it then, it was to be the last time she saw the Josts.

All the while it snowed and snowed, and soon Helene couldn’t see 10 steps in front of her. Her feet seemed heavier and heavier, and her load pressed down. “Dear God,” she prayed again, “help me, give me strength.”

Her limbs ached as she painfully pulled each foot out of the deep snow. Her breathing became labored, and the icy air cut into her lungs like knives. She reached the hill leading into the woods, and as she ascended her burden weighed her down even more.

Lord, help me. Oh, who will help me?

Suddenly she could go no further. Her knees started to buckle under her, and in panic she staggered to a high milestone by the side of the road. One mile to the station, she read.

Wearily, she leaned against the stone, resting the rucksack on top of it. As her bags slipped from her hands, they almost disappeared in the deep snow. She shut her eyes for a moment.

I must not fall asleep. I must not fall asleep. All I need is a few minutes to catch my breath, and then I’ll continue.

Her thoughts wandered to her hungry children at home. Again she closed her eyes, then jerked them open. If I fall asleep, I might never wake up again. She was beginning to feel heavy and oh-so-comfortably warm. Once more, her eyes closed, and this time they stayed that way.

The snow settled on her. Soon, still leaning on the signpost, she looked like a gnarled tree stump, a part of a noiseless landscape. She started to dream, at first seeing herself standing in the snow with fluffy snowflakes swirling out of a leaden sky. The next instant, she was enveloped by a circle of light, and when she looked again, it was no longer snowflakes but white clad angels that surrounded her.

Such peace, she thought, such wonderful peace . . .

The rumble of an approaching motor roused her, and she jerked awake. A diesel truck was laboring up the hill. She tried to raise her hand to flag it down, but her stiff limbs would not obey her. In despair she saw the truck continue on its slow course, and sleep washed over her once more.

A voice suddenly said, “Now you will see a miracle of God.”

A heavy hand shook her by the shoulder. Each time she tried to raise her head, it drooped forward again. The shaking, the jolting, went on and on.

Leave me alone, she thought. I’m so wonderfully warm, and I have no energy to move.

“Wake up, wake up,” a rough voice kept saying. “You must wake up. You are about to freeze.”

Annoyed, she finally opened her eyes to see a man standing in front of her.

“I parked my truck at the top of the hill,” he said. “I couldn’t stop right here or I never would have made it up. You come with me now, and I’ll give you a ride.”

Mechanically she tried to stand up straight, but her stiff body did not cooperate. Realizing she needed help, the driver took her bags and rucksack and started up the hill. Then he returned and half dragged, half carried her to the cab. He gave her a drink from his thermos of hot tea, wrapped blankets around her, and turned the heat up high before he continued his journey.

“That was a close call,” the man said, “I do believe you almost froze to death.” I nearly missed seeing you, you were so covered with snow. What are you doing out anyway on a day like this?”

Helen was beginning to thaw out. She told him about her four hungry children at home and her effort to get food.

“Thank you so much for picking me up. God sent you to help me,” she concluded. “I know I shouldn’t have rested. But I was so tired. As soon as I stopped, warmth flooded through me. I just could not stay awake. It would be a great help if you could take me to the train station.”

“You know,” he said, “the interesting thing is I never come this way. Today is the first time I’ve been along this route. As far as taking you to the train station, that’s going to be useless. I know from reliable sources that all trains are being searched. Any black market food is being confiscated. It would be a shame to lose it after all you’ve been through to get it. Where do you live, anyway?”

“In Eschersheim, near Frankfurt.”

“I tell you what. I’ll just take you there. Eschersheim is not much out of my way.”

Gratefully Helene accepted. She now looked at the driver more carefully. Middle-aged, nondescript, coarse hands, rough clothing, brown hair streaked with gray, probably married with children himself. He began responding to her small talk with monosyllables. Finally she gave up and dozed off. She woke when the truck stopped.

“Well, here we are,” said the driver, turning off the motor. He lifted out her bags, then helped her down the steep step.

She took his hand gratefully. “I just don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“I’m just glad I found you before it was too late. In the future you must stay home in such bad weather. Now I must be on my way.”

With a final nod of his head he climbed back into the cab. She stooped to slip the rucksack straps over her shoulders, groggily wondering how she had gotten there. Then she turned to have a last glance at the disappearing truck. She looked down the length of the street.

There was no truck.

And there were no tracks in the freshly fallen snow.

The Sad Story of Judas: Part 3

 "The Sad Story of Judas" (Part 3)

Click here for Chapter 1

From The Desire of Ages by Ellen G. White

adapted by Gary L. Clendenon, May/June, 2020

(All Bible quotations from the NIV, unless otherwise stated)

“The Redeemer does not want to lose one soul; His experience with Judas is recorded to show His long patience with perverse human nature.”

(Christ Object Lessons, p. 74)

Chapter 3: “True Greatness!”

On this last evening with His disciples, Jesus had much to tell them, but “a dispute arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest.” (Luke 22:24) This contention, carried on in the presence of Christ, grieved and wounded Him. The disciples clung to their favorite idea that Christ would assert His power, and take His position on the throne of David. And in their heart, each still longed for the highest place in the kingdom.

When the disciples entered the supper room, their hearts were full of resentful feelings. Judas pressed next to Christ on the left side; John was on the right. If there was a highest place, Judas was determined to have it, and that place was thought to be next to Christ. And Judas was a traitor.

Another cause of dissension had arisen. At a feast it was customary for a servant to wash the feet of the guests, but no servant was present, and it was the disciples' part to perform it. But each of the disciples, yielding to wounded pride, determined not to act the part of a servant. By their silence they refused to humble themselves.

How was Christ to bring these poor souls where Satan would not gain over them a decided victory? How could He show that it is loving service, true humility, which constitutes real greatness? How was He to kindle love in their hearts, and enable them to comprehend what He longed to tell them?

The disciples made no move toward serving one another. Jesus waited for a time to see what they would do. Then He, the divine Teacher, rose from the table. Laying aside the outer garment that would have impeded His movements, He took a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. “After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” (John 13:5) This action opened the eyes of the disciples. Bitter shame and humiliation filled their hearts. They understood the unspoken rebuke, and saw themselves in altogether a new light.

So Christ expressed His love for His disciples. Their selfish spirit filled Him with sorrow, but He entered into no controversy with them regarding their difficulty. Instead He gave them an example they would never forget. His love for them was not easily disturbed or quenched. He knew that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He came from God, and went to God. He had a full consciousness of His divinity; but He had laid aside His royal crown and kingly robes, and had taken the form of a servant. One of the last acts of His life on earth was to gird Himself as a servant, and perform a servant's part.

Before the Passover Judas had met a second time with the priests and scribes, and had closed the contract to deliver Jesus into their hands. Yet he afterward mingled with the disciples as though innocent of any wrong, and interested in the work of preparing for the feast. The disciples knew nothing of the purpose of Judas. Jesus alone could read his secret. Yet He did not expose him. Jesus hungered for his soul. He felt for him such a burden as for Jerusalem when He wept over the doomed city. His heart was crying, How can I give you up?

The constraining power of that love was felt by Judas. When the Savior's hands were bathing those soiled feet, and wiping them with the towel, the heart of Judas thrilled through and through with the impulse then and there to confess his sin. But he would not humble himself. He hardened his heart against repentance; and the old impulses, for the moment put aside, again controlled him. Judas was now offended at Christ's act in washing the feet of His disciples. If Jesus could so humble Himself, he thought, He could not be Israel's king. All hope of worldly honor in a secular kingdom was destroyed. Judas was satisfied that there was nothing to be gained by following Christ. After seeing Jesus degrade Himself, as he thought, Judas was confirmed in his purpose to disown Him, and believe himself deceived. He was possessed by a demon, and he resolved to complete the work he had agreed to do in betraying his Lord.

Judas, in choosing his position at the table, had tried to place himself first, and Christ as a servant served him first. As the disciples watched Christ's action, they were greatly moved. When Peter's turn came, he exclaimed with astonishment, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Christ's condescension broke his heart. Peter was filled with shame to think that one of the disciples was not performing this service. “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” (John 13:6-7) Peter could not bear to see his Lord, whom he believed to be the Son of God, acting the part of a servant. His whole soul rose up against this humiliation. He did not realize that for this Christ came into the world.

Jesus said to the disciples, “you are clean, though not every one of you.” (John 13:10) He had washed the feet of Judas, but the heart had not been yielded to Him. It was not purified. Judas had not submitted himself to Christ.

After Christ had washed the disciples' feet, and had put on His garments and sat down again, He said to them, “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. (John 13:12-16)

No one was so exalted as Christ, and yet He stooped to the humblest duty. That His people might not be misled by the selfishness which dwells in the natural heart, and which strengthens by self-serving, Christ Himself set the example of humility. He washed the feet of His betrayer.

In His life and lessons, Christ has given a perfect exemplification of the unselfish ministry which has its origin in God. God does not live for Himself. Jesus whole life was under a law of service. He served all, ministered to all. Thus He lived the law of God, and by His example showed how we are to obey it.

Again and again Jesus had tried to establish this principle among His disciples. In My kingdom the principle of preference and supremacy has no place. The only greatness is the greatness of humility. The only distinction is found in devotion to the service of others.

Source: Desire of Ages, pages 643-46, 649-50.

"WACO: A Survivor's Story" (Book Summary)

 

WACO: A Survivor’s Story

Book by David Thibodeau, (c) 2018

Selected Quotes compiled by Gary L. Clendenon, May 2019

History and Context: The Waco Siege began in early 1993, when a government raid on a compound in Axtell, Texas [near Waco], led to a 51-day standoff between federal agents and members of a millennial Christian sect called the Branch Davidians. The siege ended dramatically on April 19, 1993, when fires consumed the compound, leaving some 75 people dead, including 25 children. 

                                ~ History.com

David Thibodeau is an American Branch Davidian who [at the time of this story] was being led by charismatic leader David Koresh. Thibodeau was in the compound for the 51-day siege until he escaped, with eight other survivors, the fire that consumed the compound.

                                ~ Wikipedia

Before the Attack:

“What are you going to do six months from now when all this is surrounded by tanks?” David Koresh said one summer afternoon, when four or five of us were finishing off the roof of the three-story residential tower.

My hand, holding the hammer, froze in mid air. “They're not going to bring tanks against us!” I exclaimed. “Not tanks. That's real paranoid, David.”

David answered obliquely, launching into a commentary on the Biblical Nahum: the chariots shall be with flaming torches. ... I only half listened to him. To me it was inconceivable that the federal government could actually use heavy armor to attack us. Not in America, I said silently—surely? (p. 129)

April 20, 1993: The Day After:

What were a group of Americans to do that had been assaulted by its own government with such ferocity, not because we threatened anyone, but essentially because we were different?

Someone suggested tentatively that we’d just experienced one of the worst moments of religious persecution in U.S. history. “Not since the Mormons—” he said, and trailed off.

To me the words “religious persecution” sounded medieval. Wasn’t this the Land of the Free? The friggin’ twentieth century? I wanted to shout that this was nonsense, that we couldn’t possibly be persecuted for our scriptural beliefs. Not in America! But I kept coming around to an implacable question: Why else had we been attacked so fiercely? It just didn’t make sense. (p. 189-90)

“Authorities were able to take action against Davidians with such immunity because they [the media] and members of the general public shared a view of Koresh and his followers and the situation that allowed, even required, such actions,” stated James T. Richardson, professor of sociology and judicial studies at the University of Nevada-Reno and an expert on new religions.

Richardson and others have pointed out the crucial role of the media plays in distinguishing between “worthy” and “unworthy” story subjects. People or groups that the press decides are worthy of sympathy are described in ways that predispose viewers and readers to look upon them kindly. Those whom the media choose to demonize are shown in a light that distances them from public compassion. As Richardson remarked, “The dehumanization of those inside Mt. Carmel, coupled with the thoroughgoing demonization of Koresh, made it easier for those in authority to develop tactics that seemed organized for disaster.” (p. 200)

A major example of this crude characterization of David and our community was a TV movie of the week, “In the Line of Duty: Ambush at Waco” rushed into production during the siege, shown on NBC in May, 1993, and rebroadcast many times since. In the film, David was shown in the most damning light as a charismatic, Jim Jones—style monster obsessed with young girls.

However, in an address given at the 1997 memorial service for the people who died in Waco, the TV movie's writer, Phil Penningroth, recanted his role in shaping the NBC film. “Within days of the ATF raid, the Davidians, and especially Koresh, were demonized as the Jews were in Germany before World War II,” Penningroth said. “As we all know now, the government and the media painted a portrait of Koresh and Davidians that I now believe was insidious, malevolent, and ultimately destructive. To my everlasting shame and regret, I added to that distorted view. I pray that soon, very soon, other artist, other journalists, will recognize the truth of what happened here four years ago.”

In an ironic twist, the FBI became a victim of its own connivance. ... Having fed the media vicious tales, officials saw them amplified in a rising public pressure that eventually forced their hand. (p. 201)

The FBI’s “Jericho Plan” called for a “step by step” process in which tear gas would be pumped in to our building to drive us out over 48 hours, but no armored vehicles or gunfire would be used against us. The cocktail favored by the feds to subdue us was a chemical called CS in a solution of methylene chloride. … In January, 1993 the United States and 130 other countries had signed the Chemical Weapons Convention banning the use of CS gas in warfare; apparently there was no prohibition on its use against American citizens. … No greater concentration of CS has ever been sprayed by government agents at U.S. civilians [than what was used at Waco]. (p. 246-248)

This was the deadly brew the FBI brass was quietly cooking up for us while appearing to accept that we were ready to come out, as soon as David finished writing his interpretation of the seals [The 7 seals of Revelation]. (p. 248)

“We were sincerely expecting to come out. We had our bags packed.” ~ Clive Doyle, Survivor (p. 257)

It was the feds, not us, who created the conditions for a conflagration [an extensive, destructive fire]. For that terrible consequence, the government is completely responsible. (p. 259)

The [Government’s] Plan...was abandoned within minutes of the dawn attack. Throwing aside all restraint, the tanks hacked away wildly at Mt. Carmel. (p. 262)

Amid all this, the ATF [The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives], to mark its terrible triumph, took time to remove the tatters of our flag and run up its own bureau’s banner, along with the Texas standard and the Stars and Stripes. (p. 266) (See Footnote 1)

U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno spoke on “Larry King LIVE”: She claimed the FBI had hard evidence that our kids were being beaten—which was the reason she allowed the Feds to burn them! The logic of this escaped me. (p. 269)

The media spin was so powerful, it even began to twist my mind. Talk about brainwashing! (p. 269)

“Some religious fanatics murdered themselves,” President Clinton declared, but he was wrong. The truth is that a religious community that threatened or harmed no one was brutally destroyed by agents of the U.S. Government in broad daylight, watched by the world. The FBI assault on Mt. Carmel was one of the most violent episodes of official religious persecution in U.S. History. (p. 269)

All these official distortions of the truth were an early warning to me that the world outside had more or less made up its mind that we were merely a bunch of religious maniacs who’d murdered ourselves. (p. 269)

With the screams of my suffocating, scorched friends and the moans of the kids I knew and loved echoing in my ears, I wondered at the ways of the world. How could this woman [Janet Reno], who had ordered her cohorts to destroy us, be hailed as a Superstar? (p. 270)

After the fire, a charred copy of the Fourth Amendment was found in Mount Carmel’s ashes: “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated.”

I was troubled by the loss of my bedrock faith in America and its rule of law, in the essential decency and fairmindedness of the American people, their willingness to hear the truth and their ability to resist government and media manipulation. All that seemed to have been trampled underfoot at Mt. Carmel. The feds had refused to take any real blame for what they had done, and the American public had seemingly accepted their gross corruption of our moral and social inheritance. (p. 293)

All eight [Davidians who were tried, found guilty, and jailed] were heavily fined to compensate the ATF and FBI for their losses in attacking us. (p. 308)

If only Janet Reno had shown some contrition; if only she could have brought herself to admit that what she had allowed to happen in Mt. Carmel was a terrible mistake. If she had, the true healing process over this American tragedy might have fully begun. Without that generous admission, the public conscience remains in limbo, strung out between guilt and outrage. (p. 336)

Belief can’t really be explained to those who don’t have it, but that doesn’t make it invalid. (p. 340)

The situation could have been easily defused, but instead the FBI literally lit the fuse, hurled it into the building, and incinerated most of its inhabitants. (p. 344)

We’re living in a time [written in 2018] where it’s hard to find the truth and Waco serves as an example of how the truth isn’t always what we are presented. (p. 348)

Waco has left a stain on American history that will never be erased and we ignore its lessons at our peril. (p. 350)

FOOTNOTES:

1. https://www.stormbound.org/mount-carmel-property/branch-davidian-flag/