[Glynn] A Cult Reunion

I have been whiling away my free time lately in the strangest of ways.

Apparently, there will be a “cult reunion”.

I have alluded to growing up in an apocalyptic cult, founded by one Herbert W. Armstrong. The tenants of the organization are too bizarre to expound fully here – but in a nutshell, Jesus was coming back any minute. Before he did, you unbelievers were scheduled to suffer a ghastly fate in the “Great Tribulation”. The Chosen Few (us) were to flee to a Place of Safety and await the return of the LORD. Church elders whispered darkly that our “Place of Safety” would be the caves of Petra on the Syria / Jordan border.

In practice, we were kept in a constant state of alert. No one wanted to get left while the others escaped to Petra. Black folks were on shaky ground anyway, since only the pure white sons of the twelve tribes of Israel had any real claim to divine revelation.

Growing up, normal events were forbidden those of us with knowledge of Christ’s return. Football games, proms, parties, etc, if it started after sunset on Friday – we were to have nothing to do with it.

The crazy thing is – I was a true believer. It felt good to understand secret revelations denied the masses. In my mind, I was Harry Potter – and you were Muggles.

But . . . to make a long story very short - doubt crept in.

One crazy edict too many, the overwhelming isolation, or just the combined weight of insanity had me questioning basic assumptions by the time I reached my late teens.

Then the founder died (which wasn’t supposed to happen).

By the time the cult imploded a few years later and fractured into mini-cults, I was long gone. I wondered how I had allowed such towering lunacy to affect me for such a very long time. Looking back, it seems so stunningly, spectacularly, odd.

I still cringe with guilt whenever I hear of crazy religious activity, wondering if they are one of my lost "Brethren". In fact, a couple years back, I saw the bizarre story of a church massacre – and immediately knew it was one of us.

So it was with great surprise that I received an email lately, inviting me to a cult reunion.

My cult youth group in Michigan (absent the parents that introduced us to such wackiness) is having a reunion party. There is a website, before and after pictures, the whole nine yards. To me, this is far more monumental than any 20 year high school reunion or camp retreat. I spent the last twenty years merrily eliminating every remaining tentacle of the “crazy time”.

Suddenly, it is all back.

It is fascinating to hear how other people have dealt with our “situation”. Many are doing well. Many are psychologically wreaked. Bizarrely, some actually remain true believers.

I can’t get off the reunion website.

And I can’t decide if I am going to go to the reunion itself.

But if I do attend, I promise you - I’m bringing a microphone. It will be the best radio you ever heard . . .

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