18 ICSA TODAY
I had not heard much, if any, Christian church history from any
point of view. It would have been helpful for me to understand
how Wierwille was using Protestant fundamentalism for his own
purposes.
Eventually, I learned that the term fundamentalism applied
to Christianity comes from a series of publications called The
Fundamentals (1910–1915), which stated basic beliefs that
real Christians must agree to, such as the virgin birth of Jesus,
miracles, Jesus’s resurrection, and biblical inerrancy. Biblical
inerrancy was the foundation of Wierwille’s beliefs and teachings.
He explained it like this: The Bible had to be perfect because God
was its author and He was perfect.
The idea of a perfect Bible as the product of a perfect God
comes from trying to force logic on the Bible, not from the Bible
itself. Fundamentalists such as Wierwille shove round pegs of
contradictions in the Bible into the square hole of perfection to
make the Bible appear without error. Rarely does anyone call
them on it their spiel is too rapid and convincing.
Wierwille’s fundamentalism made sense to me when I was a
teenager, given that I wanted to learn the real Word of God,
not somebody’s interpretation. Once introduced to Wierwille’s
thinking, I thought the Catholic Church had let me down since
it had not insisted that the Scriptures should be the centerpiece
of my faith. Young Life was great, but it had not offered in-depth
Bible instruction like The Way offered. I loved God and wanted
to serve Him, as the nuns had said I should, and fundamentalism
disguised by Wierwille as “the accuracy of God’s Word” seemed
the avenue God wanted me to take to fulfill that purpose. It
seemed to offer a safe, godly, and solid perch in a world swirling
with confusion.
Two months after Way recruiters swept me into their cult, I
dropped out of college for what became a 17-year commitment
to the group (1970 to 1987). I was a zealous believer and
eventually became a leader with unwavering loyalty. I loved my
Way leaders, my Way believer friends, and most of all, the Word of
God we taught. I believed, as surely as I believed the sun would
rise each morning, that being part of this group was God’s plan
for me.
I rejected every warning. A college friend warned me that
Wierwille was a con man. My father told me I would end up in the
gutter. My adoring boyfriend feared Wierwille would brainwash
me. I saw these people as obstacles in my fervent pursuit of God
and abandoned them for a Way-centered life.
In 1973 I graduated from The Way’s 2-year leadership-training
program, The Way Corps, conducted at Way headquarters
property, the renovated Wierwille family farm at the edge of New
Knoxville, Ohio. Supervised by Wierwille himself, our training
was heavy indoctrination. We lived in trailers, worked at assigned
jobs, and functioned as a unit. For those 2 years, I lived in one
bedroom with five bunks, 10 women, and one bathroom. I loved
it. Wierwille said this arrangement would teach us to live together
as Christians if we couldn’t learn to love each other there, then
we’d have trouble helping and loving God’s people when we
went back into the world. He also said we would be turning our
backs on God if we left.
After Corps graduation, I married a man from my Way Corps
group, and Wierwille ordained him. For a time we were The Way’s
leaders in California. We had a child. Wierwille was our “father
in The Word” directing our every move. His authority was firmly
planted in my mind, not only from his Bible teachings, but also
from his alleged special revelation: “He [God] said He would teach
me the Word as it had not been known since the first century if
I would teach it to others” (p. 178). I had believed that assertion
with all my heart. God still spoke to people today as He had in
Moses’ time.
I imagine now that I had wanted that so-called revelation to
be true because I had been seeking correct Bible knowledge.
Wierwille also claimed that his ministry was the first-century
church in the twentieth century, and I trusted and followed him
as the first Christians followed the Apostle Paul.
Over time, Wierwille trusted me to become one of his biblical
researchers. During my Corps training, he assigned me to an
Aramaic project. I believed this project would help us discover
more of the accuracy of God’s Word, which would help believers
to experience more of the abundant life Jesus Christ promised.
In 1984 that powerful belief shattered like a pane of glass.
My Undoing
In August 1984, I moved with my then husband and our daughter
back to Way headquarters, our “spiritual” home. Wierwille, whom
we called “our father in The Word,” had retired in 1982 but still
lived there, as did other leaders. By this time, about 500 staff also
worked there in a massive office building—a small city under
one roof. The ministry had grown into a worldwide organization
with fellowships in every state in the United States and 36 other
countries. It was a multimillion-dollar business that received
income from believers’ donations, book sales, and class fees. In
1985 alone, The Way reported $30 million in income, which in
2015 would be about $67 million. Our goal, God’s Word over the
world, was becoming a reality. Thousands of Way Corps members
around the globe spearheaded the movement. The Way owned
other significantly large properties in Indiana, Kansas, Colorado,
and Scotland where Way Corps members were trained.
My assignment in 1984 was to help complete The Concordance
to the Peshitta Version of the Aramaic New Testament and work
on the elite Biblical Research Team that had formed in recent
years. Wierwille had wanted to expand his biblical research
efforts, so he’d encouraged some Way Corps graduates to attend
universities and learn biblical languages to further his aims.
Researchers had to be Way Corps grads first, their trustworthiness
ensured, before they might be invited to join the Biblical Research
Team. We were a group of about eight people from a ministry of
tens of thousands.
Besides the Aramaic project, I also helped prepare weekly Bible
studies. I was convinced I was doing God’s will and certain
Wierwille was God’s special man of God until, in 1984, I began to
see for myself that Wierwille fabricated and often plagiarized his
biblical research and teachings.
The critical instance that opened my eyes to this reality was
a metaphor in Paul’s epistle to the Ephesians. Over the years,
Wierwille had taught that the armor described in chapter 6 was
I had not heard much, if any, Christian church history from any
point of view. It would have been helpful for me to understand
how Wierwille was using Protestant fundamentalism for his own
purposes.
Eventually, I learned that the term fundamentalism applied
to Christianity comes from a series of publications called The
Fundamentals (1910–1915), which stated basic beliefs that
real Christians must agree to, such as the virgin birth of Jesus,
miracles, Jesus’s resurrection, and biblical inerrancy. Biblical
inerrancy was the foundation of Wierwille’s beliefs and teachings.
He explained it like this: The Bible had to be perfect because God
was its author and He was perfect.
The idea of a perfect Bible as the product of a perfect God
comes from trying to force logic on the Bible, not from the Bible
itself. Fundamentalists such as Wierwille shove round pegs of
contradictions in the Bible into the square hole of perfection to
make the Bible appear without error. Rarely does anyone call
them on it their spiel is too rapid and convincing.
Wierwille’s fundamentalism made sense to me when I was a
teenager, given that I wanted to learn the real Word of God,
not somebody’s interpretation. Once introduced to Wierwille’s
thinking, I thought the Catholic Church had let me down since
it had not insisted that the Scriptures should be the centerpiece
of my faith. Young Life was great, but it had not offered in-depth
Bible instruction like The Way offered. I loved God and wanted
to serve Him, as the nuns had said I should, and fundamentalism
disguised by Wierwille as “the accuracy of God’s Word” seemed
the avenue God wanted me to take to fulfill that purpose. It
seemed to offer a safe, godly, and solid perch in a world swirling
with confusion.
Two months after Way recruiters swept me into their cult, I
dropped out of college for what became a 17-year commitment
to the group (1970 to 1987). I was a zealous believer and
eventually became a leader with unwavering loyalty. I loved my
Way leaders, my Way believer friends, and most of all, the Word of
God we taught. I believed, as surely as I believed the sun would
rise each morning, that being part of this group was God’s plan
for me.
I rejected every warning. A college friend warned me that
Wierwille was a con man. My father told me I would end up in the
gutter. My adoring boyfriend feared Wierwille would brainwash
me. I saw these people as obstacles in my fervent pursuit of God
and abandoned them for a Way-centered life.
In 1973 I graduated from The Way’s 2-year leadership-training
program, The Way Corps, conducted at Way headquarters
property, the renovated Wierwille family farm at the edge of New
Knoxville, Ohio. Supervised by Wierwille himself, our training
was heavy indoctrination. We lived in trailers, worked at assigned
jobs, and functioned as a unit. For those 2 years, I lived in one
bedroom with five bunks, 10 women, and one bathroom. I loved
it. Wierwille said this arrangement would teach us to live together
as Christians if we couldn’t learn to love each other there, then
we’d have trouble helping and loving God’s people when we
went back into the world. He also said we would be turning our
backs on God if we left.
After Corps graduation, I married a man from my Way Corps
group, and Wierwille ordained him. For a time we were The Way’s
leaders in California. We had a child. Wierwille was our “father
in The Word” directing our every move. His authority was firmly
planted in my mind, not only from his Bible teachings, but also
from his alleged special revelation: “He [God] said He would teach
me the Word as it had not been known since the first century if
I would teach it to others” (p. 178). I had believed that assertion
with all my heart. God still spoke to people today as He had in
Moses’ time.
I imagine now that I had wanted that so-called revelation to
be true because I had been seeking correct Bible knowledge.
Wierwille also claimed that his ministry was the first-century
church in the twentieth century, and I trusted and followed him
as the first Christians followed the Apostle Paul.
Over time, Wierwille trusted me to become one of his biblical
researchers. During my Corps training, he assigned me to an
Aramaic project. I believed this project would help us discover
more of the accuracy of God’s Word, which would help believers
to experience more of the abundant life Jesus Christ promised.
In 1984 that powerful belief shattered like a pane of glass.
My Undoing
In August 1984, I moved with my then husband and our daughter
back to Way headquarters, our “spiritual” home. Wierwille, whom
we called “our father in The Word,” had retired in 1982 but still
lived there, as did other leaders. By this time, about 500 staff also
worked there in a massive office building—a small city under
one roof. The ministry had grown into a worldwide organization
with fellowships in every state in the United States and 36 other
countries. It was a multimillion-dollar business that received
income from believers’ donations, book sales, and class fees. In
1985 alone, The Way reported $30 million in income, which in
2015 would be about $67 million. Our goal, God’s Word over the
world, was becoming a reality. Thousands of Way Corps members
around the globe spearheaded the movement. The Way owned
other significantly large properties in Indiana, Kansas, Colorado,
and Scotland where Way Corps members were trained.
My assignment in 1984 was to help complete The Concordance
to the Peshitta Version of the Aramaic New Testament and work
on the elite Biblical Research Team that had formed in recent
years. Wierwille had wanted to expand his biblical research
efforts, so he’d encouraged some Way Corps graduates to attend
universities and learn biblical languages to further his aims.
Researchers had to be Way Corps grads first, their trustworthiness
ensured, before they might be invited to join the Biblical Research
Team. We were a group of about eight people from a ministry of
tens of thousands.
Besides the Aramaic project, I also helped prepare weekly Bible
studies. I was convinced I was doing God’s will and certain
Wierwille was God’s special man of God until, in 1984, I began to
see for myself that Wierwille fabricated and often plagiarized his
biblical research and teachings.
The critical instance that opened my eyes to this reality was
a metaphor in Paul’s epistle to the Ephesians. Over the years,
Wierwille had taught that the armor described in chapter 6 was
