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Millennium Watch - September 2009

God Reality? A Testimony (4)

September 30th 2009 21:18
A wonderful self-defence mechanism allows children to bury bad events, and it wasn’t until I was an adult and underwent hypnotherapy, did the incident return like some replay of a horror movie. M had me sit on his bed. He sat on a chair opposite. He then explained that he had to conduct a health check to make sure nothing was wrong. Relief flooded through me—I wasn’t going to be strapped! This and the fact his demeanour was relaxed, his voice echoing quiet assurance, made me accept the lie. He then told me to stand and take down my pyjama pants. I quickly obeyed, not wanting him to notice my two pairs of underpants.

That’s when he began to fondle my private parts. I remember getting embarrassed and pulled away. M assured me that this was natural, and not to worry. Then for reasons of his own, he told me to pull up my pants, and that we would continue the check tomorrow night. Before leaving his room, he warned me that these health checks were personal and not to mention anything to the other boys or there would be serious trouble.
The following night, I knocked on his door with an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Once inside, he again told me to take down my pants. Then alarm bells started to ring in my mind. Something was wrong; this was no health check! I refused him, saying that I would tell my parents if he touched me again


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God Reality? A Testimony (3)

September 16th 2009 06:42
Under Attack
‘When they find, they will be disturbed—Jesus, The Gospel of Tomas

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God Reality? A Testimony (2)

September 6th 2009 22:43
My parents were publicans and naturally wanted their son to spend as least amount of time in hotels as possible. Therefore it was my grandmother Gertrude who shouldered the greater load in raising me from about three until the age of six when she died. Just before grandmother’s death, I’d been staying at the hotel for a week owing to her admission in hospital. She passed away on the Friday and for reasons of their own, my parents decided to wait until Monday when we were at home to tell me.
We had left the hotel on Sunday evening. The family home was a weatherboard cottage in a seaside village south of Sydney, and it was about 8.00pm by the time we’d travelled the 80 or so kilometres. As usual, I had fallen asleep in the backseat of the car, and what transpired as we pulled in to the driveway I have put together from memory and what my parents have told me.
Mother reached over from the front and shook my leg to wake me and that’s when I suddenly began to scream and thrash about on the seat. My recollection of this event has grown vague with the passage of time, but apparently, I carried on for a couple of minutes before settling down, then flatly refused to get out of the car. What I do remember, what I’ll never forget, is the all-pervading sense that something was wrong, seriously wrong? Of course, the wrong was my grandmother had died


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