a frozen heart, warmed by his touch
In my search for “TRUTH,” desperation to help mankind, and desire to get help for my own demons (depression and almost non-existent self esteem); I interviewed with a woman who was a member of Scientology. She assured me that Scientology WOULD help me and “is humanity’s best and last hope.” When I DID learn to communicate better in their intro course on communication, I began to believe that maybe Scientology was the truth I had been searching for.
Weeks later, I was on board as a staff member. The main attraction of joining the staff is the promise that rather than paying the hundreds of thousands of dollars for the services and counseling offered in order to achieve “total” control of life, one can earn the way by donating time and talents. There were three different contracts to choose from: 2 1/2, 5, or the next BILLION years. I didn’t yet understand the billion-year commitment, so went with what seemed best for me – a five-year contract.
For a while, I DID really enjoy being involved. I was surrounded by like-minded, capable people my own age and it seemed there was no limit to the advancement of any hard working woman. I rather quickly rose in the ranks until I became the head of the Treasury Division. In that position, I oversaw three departments for the nights/weekend branch of the foundation. I continued to be devoted to the cause, though a number of factors began weighing heavily on me. No days off, working every workday night and all day weekends is a hard schedule to maintain, ESPECIALLY since I had to carry a second “outside” job to make ends meet because the average pay for Scientology staff members was only about $20/week.
In addition to beginning to feel overburdened by the demanding schedule, I began to see
discrepancies between what the group boasted and how they REALLY treated their own, the staff. Nothing drove that point home better for me than when Keith, the man I was now in love with and a high executive, was removed from his position (along with five others) for basically not ensuring that our branch was making enough money to send up to the highest echelon within the group.
Keith was sentenced to the Rehabilitation Project Force (or RPF), which we soon discovered was nothing more than a glorified slave labor camp for “unproductive” staff members. Keith and I got married on the roof of what was once the Cedars-Sinai Hospital and now a Scientology owned facility. We had to marry there because RPFers weren’t allowed off the floors they’d been consigned to, other than for construction/work projects. It fell to this small group to renovate the entire complex and any others to be purchased in the future. There were so many restrictions on those poor men and women; one of which was only one night a week was allowed for “conjugal time” and that was on the hospital’s third (and as yet un-renovated) floor. This group was kept apart, relegated to only certain floors because to members in good standing, they were “persona non grata.”
I cherished those once a week visits with my new husband until he was assigned to work on a new building that needed renovated quickly to host L. Ron Hubbard’s (founder of Scientology’s) birthday bash. That Saturday when I went to see Keith, there were dark circles under his eyes and his entire appearance was ghastly.
“Honey, I know you’ve waited all week to see me, talk and everything but I’m so tired. I can’t remember when I last slept. We’re working so hard to finish the Advanced building. Would you mind terribly, if I just ate my dinner and went to sleep?” He asked.
“No, babe, it’s OK. How long do you think it HAS been since you’ve slept?”
“I dunno, maybe 50 hours?”
After this incident, my heart began to harden significantly against Scientology. I wrote to Ron Hubbard as all Scientologists are encouraged to do when needing “guidance” from the Founder, asking him if he knew and/or approved of the harsh treatment of the RPF staff. His response?
“Go to the Qualifications Division and find out what it is you do NOT understand about policy.”
The ice of my heart began cracking and breaking into a million little pieces. After more problems, my husband and I finally left Scientology with the help of God who in intervened on our behalf. Not only did our marriage remain in tact, but God brought me to Himself. I had become close to a co-worker at the job I held in the outside world, who was a follower of Christ. She responded to the woundedness and violation she saw in me with compassion.
After about a year away from my former group, my hunger to understand life, myself, and my purpose on this earth began to get fed by God. He began to draw me by this “thing” that I can only describe as a persistent touch on my shoulder and a quiet voice whispering, “You want answers, find out about Me.” I tell you now, this sensation or perception was SO real and yet, so tender. I asked my friend, Cheryl “What IS this thing I’m feeling? Do you know?” Her response, “It’s Jesus, He wants to heal your frozen heart.” And it was true.
I started reading His story again, as I had once done as a little girl, only now it made sense to me. “Come to Me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28). That was the passage that shattered the ice bringing with it the touch of His warm hand. That warm touch reached into my heart and soul and brought new life. THANKS be to HIM!
Red is a mixed media artist, weaver of words, dreamer of dreams and songstress living with her loving husband and family in Covina, CA.
Back to Herstories
|
