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The Long Version Meeting the Jehovah's Witnesses More Information Visitor's comments
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Life as a WitnessLife as a Witness was short and hectic. I had no doctrinal qualms. My biggest problem, of course, was cigarettes. It wasn't long before we were busy. Busy with meetings. Busy knocking on doors. Busy reading and studying the latest word from God's organization. Some things occurred during that year that are worthy of mention.
Most of the congregation knew me through my dad who, although living in another state at this time, had been a part of the congregation for years. In fact, he had helped build the current Kingdom Hall. One JW, Lonnie, was about my age and we became good friends. Lonnie was somewhat of a radical; he was outspoken and unorthodox. He wore "loud" ties and wrinkled suits. Most of the other JWs kept some distance between themselves and Lonnie. One Sunday I noticed Lonnie was uncharacteristically quiet and did not answer any Watchtower study questions. After the meeting I moved to greet him and was intercepted by an elder who warned me that Lonnie was being "disciplined" and I should keep my "association" with Lonnie to a minimum. The Watchtower calls this "marking." That was a sad experience. There was no explanation of his "crime" nor could we ask. Witnesses are told this is for the good of the offender and keeps the Organization clean, but that never made sense to me. At the time, my daughters were very young. I didn't discipline them by withdrawing my affection and love. If they messed up, they were confronted, told what was wrong and why, punished if necessary, and after all the tears we always hugged them and told them we loved them. If I, as an imperfect human father, knew enough to affirm my love for disobedient children, shouldn't our Heavenly Father do much more? Then, I got another lesson in love and loyalty. One Sunday in November 1985, just before the Public Talk started I received a phone call at the Kingdom Hall. An elderly aunt of mine (a non-Witness) had fallen and sustained some injuries. As it turned out, she wasn't hurt badly, but the doctor refused to release her since she lived alone. My wife and I decided the Christian thing to do would be to move in with her until she got back on her feet. Sounded good huh? What a trial! Around Christmas our empty home was burglarized. Taking care of my aunt meant we missed some meetings and our service time dropped...the very yardsticks the Watchtower uses to measure one's spiritual health. Soon we were being counseled to leave my aunt and refocus on "serving Jehovah." The wife and I huddled and decided my aunt would be all right alone. Although I was glad to leave the hassle, the situation bothered me. Many scriptures speak of caring for the unfortunate; many specifically mention widows (James 1:27). Aunt Florence was a widow and she certainly was in "tribulation" and yet God's Organization was telling me to abandon her and stick to it's program. There was no alternative plan, no offer of assistance, no love. But hey, I was just a peon. A smoking peon at that! I was certainly in no position to argue with God nor his organization. We moved back home and struggled to make sense of everything. We missed the Spring assembly which is another "no no." My wife began making excuses to miss meetings and field service. The illusion of Spiritual Paradise (this is what the Watchtower tells JWs they live in) was vaporizing. For a few months I carried on myself. Making all the meetings, doing my assigned talks, and knocking on doors but all I felt was confusion and guilt. It was coming up on our one-year anniversary in the Organization and life was failing apart. I became obsessed with quitting smoking; thinking of self inflicted bodily injury and worse. Then one day I called a Christian bookstore to inquire about the price of a King James Version (kVJ) Bible. Witnesses sometimes use the kJV to support various doctrines (for example the word "Jehovah" appears four times in the kJV). After work I stopped at the bookstore and, while speaking with the owner, shared that I was one of Jehovah's Witnesses (loved to watch people squirm!). The owner pointed to some material she had by former JWs. My heart stopped..."apostate" books! I had heard about them but never considered actually reading one. I bought two (out of curiosity!) and a kJV Bible. I read the books and wasn't impressed. Yet, the prayers of that special lady and her church may well have led to my leaving the Watchtower. |
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Immediately after baptism, I found myself climbing the "organizational ladder."
This is very important for male JWs. I guess it strokes the ego. It made me feel
good. Our congregation was desperate for male leaders...especially elders. We
"joined" the "Theocratic Ministry School" (where JWs learn to read
from the platform and prepare and deliver public talks from Watchtower outlines) and
attended all 5 weekly meetings. Within a few months, I was assisting the Magazine Servant.
At that time, the Watchtower "sold" it's magazines (The Watchtower and Awake!)
to Witnesses who in turn "placed" them at homes for a "small donation"
thereby covering their cost. I handled the money and helped in distribution. I was
repeatedly told how important responsibility was and how soon I would be eligible to be a
Ministerial Servant (e.g. Deacon). "My how Jehovah was blessing you" we would
hear. Isn't it interesting how Jehovah blessed me, a smoker? I loved the attention and the
affirmation...and I hated deceiving these people. My little family seemed to be growing
"spiritually." Then something scary happened, my friend got "marked."