Believe the children (1997). “Conviction List: Ritual Child Abuse”. Conviction List: Ritual Abuse Cases - RA Info
Understanding MPD/DID & SRA/MK
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Livingstone
Member
The Lord bless you for sharing this, @TLHKAJ .
I understand where you're coming from, @lforrest . Without discernment given to us by the Spirit of the Lord encountering alternate personalities can be a vexing affair. I write from experience, friend. How are we to grasp the nature of what afflicts a precious one of God relying upon this flesh alone? Yes, it can be confusing and distressing for us, so let us understand that what we experience is nothing compared to the living hell which the survivor endures. Ministering to the survivor is a work which only the Lord places before us for Christ Jesus (and no other) is our Counselor. We listen for His voice and submit ourselves to Him in all things.
I'm a survivor myself though I did not experience DID as others have. I might share my experiences at another time, the Lord willing.
There was a time when our Father in heaven sent me to an isolated wilderness where I befriended a survivor, laying down my life for their sake when the need arose. After many trials the Lord saw fit to baptize me with His Spirit; it was then that the alternate personalities of this precious one emerged in force, railing against Jesus Christ my Lord and sending me reeling in confusion. It hurt me deeply for I loved this one more than my own life... indeed, I accounted myself a dead man for their sake.
I cried out to the Lord for I was hard pressed to remain by their side --- their fits of blasphemous rage were terrible to behold --- and in His goodness and mercy, God revealed His undying love for one who had suffered unspeakable things in this world. When they blasphemed, I should forgive them as He had forgiven me... when they lashed out I should endure patiently, secure in the knowledge that the Lord delivers with a mighty hand just as He delivered me.
Thus I submitted myself to the Spirit and abandoned my own understanding, saying what I heard the Lord say, doing what I saw Him doing, and sealing my lips when words weren't sufficient to the task. I loved my friend unconditionally just as our Father loves them and so the most amazing work was accomplished before my eyes:
Over the years the alters merged and before my friend passed from this world, they knew peace and that they are loved. The Lord ensured that I never left their side until their appointed time had come. This was our Father's gift to one who suffered so much.
I understand where you're coming from, @lforrest . Without discernment given to us by the Spirit of the Lord encountering alternate personalities can be a vexing affair. I write from experience, friend. How are we to grasp the nature of what afflicts a precious one of God relying upon this flesh alone? Yes, it can be confusing and distressing for us, so let us understand that what we experience is nothing compared to the living hell which the survivor endures. Ministering to the survivor is a work which only the Lord places before us for Christ Jesus (and no other) is our Counselor. We listen for His voice and submit ourselves to Him in all things.
I'm a survivor myself though I did not experience DID as others have. I might share my experiences at another time, the Lord willing.
There was a time when our Father in heaven sent me to an isolated wilderness where I befriended a survivor, laying down my life for their sake when the need arose. After many trials the Lord saw fit to baptize me with His Spirit; it was then that the alternate personalities of this precious one emerged in force, railing against Jesus Christ my Lord and sending me reeling in confusion. It hurt me deeply for I loved this one more than my own life... indeed, I accounted myself a dead man for their sake.
I cried out to the Lord for I was hard pressed to remain by their side --- their fits of blasphemous rage were terrible to behold --- and in His goodness and mercy, God revealed His undying love for one who had suffered unspeakable things in this world. When they blasphemed, I should forgive them as He had forgiven me... when they lashed out I should endure patiently, secure in the knowledge that the Lord delivers with a mighty hand just as He delivered me.
Thus I submitted myself to the Spirit and abandoned my own understanding, saying what I heard the Lord say, doing what I saw Him doing, and sealing my lips when words weren't sufficient to the task. I loved my friend unconditionally just as our Father loves them and so the most amazing work was accomplished before my eyes:
Over the years the alters merged and before my friend passed from this world, they knew peace and that they are loved. The Lord ensured that I never left their side until their appointed time had come. This was our Father's gift to one who suffered so much.
- Aug 10, 2012
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Yes I recognize that the Lord Jesus loves each altar. They are a real person despite being a fragment. His love is no less potent for them.
That doesn't change the fact that altars are able to deceive others. There is no excuse for sin, but there is forgiveness in Jesus Christ for those who repent.
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Yes, but no different from any other deeply wounded person.
Most alters are exceptionally honest and straightforward.
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Livingstone
Member
Well said. My friend was tormented by the cult from birth and harbored a seething resentment against Christians for good reason: they were brutalized by Christians, by those who professed the name of Christ. They did unspeakably cruel things to my friend.Yes, but no different from any other deeply wounded person.
Yes, their resentment was well-founded which I was capable of grasping on account of my own background and experiences in this life. Imagine my astonishment that day when my friend came to me and proclaimed, "I know that Satanic ritual abuse is real." They worked for decades in Special Education and proceeded to share some of what they had witnessed among the children who were placed into their care...
For the longest time I was speechless before the Lord, that He would move one who was so tormented to serve little ones who were victims of the cult. I was greatly astonished that our Father chose me, a man who was not reared in the churches (I was not a Christian until the Lord called me), to do the same for their sake. Indeed, my background prepared me for the task which is a testament of the mercy of Jesus Christ our Lord. The truth of their suffering resonated.
Livingstone
Member
Here is wisdom.
Knowing when it is best to step back and say/do nothing. I cannot stress the importance of this enough: there are times when, confronted by a vigilant alter, one should step away. This was a lesson I learned by the counsel of God's Spirit who surely knows all things because left to my own devices, I would have botched things and caused my friend to suffer needlessly due to my bungling effort. The best of intentions are not sufficient.
Knowing when it is best to step back and say/do nothing. I cannot stress the importance of this enough: there are times when, confronted by a vigilant alter, one should step away. This was a lesson I learned by the counsel of God's Spirit who surely knows all things because left to my own devices, I would have botched things and caused my friend to suffer needlessly due to my bungling effort. The best of intentions are not sufficient.
Livingstone
Member
I pray the day will come when I will grasp all which befell me from the day of my birth, for the Lord only recently revealed the nature and substance of my programming. The best way to sum it up thus far:
As my father before me, and his father before him, and the fathers which preceded us all.
As my father before me, and his father before him, and the fathers which preceded us all.
He will do it because you're asking and because He is good and He is faithful.
Livingstone
Member
My apologies for the succession of posts but this is difficult to relate and even harder for some to understand. The evil of this cult is ancient and transcends both the setting of our modern age and even this earth where men and beasts dwell. The following is the beginning of understanding:
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 6:12)
It began when certain sons of God left their first estate, taking daughters of men whom they found fair as their wives (Genesis 6). The evil of the cult is therefore the corruption of mankind, persisting even to this day we find ourselves living in. Eugenics is a cornerstone of the cult's efforts to corrupt men in service to those thrones of wickedness who weaken the nations, upon whom the judgment of the Lord fell in days of old: they shall die like men (Psalm 82).
As I wrote earlier, I did not fragment into separate personalities for this was neither the aim nor goal of the program which bred me. The truth of my patrilineal ancestry is a terrible thing to bear for reaching back as far as I have cared to research, I have witnessed a succession of men whom I resemble in the most uncomfortable ways. Indeed, we are all very much alike:
Autistic savants whom, starting in the 20th century, were used extensively by the military. Hence as my father before me, and his father before him, and the fathers which preceded us. I'm still reeling from the revelation that as the mother who gave birth to me was my controller so was my father's mother his controller, and so the mothers of us all played their part in what might strike some as a generational curse. Not quite, but it's easy to understand how some might perceive it that way.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 6:12)
It began when certain sons of God left their first estate, taking daughters of men whom they found fair as their wives (Genesis 6). The evil of the cult is therefore the corruption of mankind, persisting even to this day we find ourselves living in. Eugenics is a cornerstone of the cult's efforts to corrupt men in service to those thrones of wickedness who weaken the nations, upon whom the judgment of the Lord fell in days of old: they shall die like men (Psalm 82).
As I wrote earlier, I did not fragment into separate personalities for this was neither the aim nor goal of the program which bred me. The truth of my patrilineal ancestry is a terrible thing to bear for reaching back as far as I have cared to research, I have witnessed a succession of men whom I resemble in the most uncomfortable ways. Indeed, we are all very much alike:
Autistic savants whom, starting in the 20th century, were used extensively by the military. Hence as my father before me, and his father before him, and the fathers which preceded us. I'm still reeling from the revelation that as the mother who gave birth to me was my controller so was my father's mother his controller, and so the mothers of us all played their part in what might strike some as a generational curse. Not quite, but it's easy to understand how some might perceive it that way.
Brother, your posts are so welcome...if you post 20 times a day, 30 times a day...it's all good stuff. THANK YOU for sharing your heart and your experiences.
@TLHKAJ Good to contribute, back and forth, right?Brother, your posts are so welcome...if you post 20 times a day, 30 times a day...it's all good stuff. THANK YOU for sharing your heart and your experiences.
Livingstone
Member
I return here once again to engage in another attempt to share the fruit of those revelations which our Lord Jesus Christ, in His merciful love, saw fit to reveal to His servant. I pray that I don't delete this attempt for it is a terrible burden to bear, leaving me shaken and ill.
I walked in darkness for most of my days on this Earth, tossed this way and that by a cruel wind because I violated the programming inculcated in me at a young age. There was something wrong with me. I wasn't like other children I knew to include my siblings; I was the only son of my mother and father. My earliest memories in this life took place in the crib where I was terrified to fall asleep on account of horrific nightmares, the likes of which were more compelling than waking life. I witnessed unspeakable horror when I closed my eyes.
I taught myself how to read at the age of three, acquiring the ability to write soon thereafter which I perfected by faithfully replicating pages from books in my parents' expansive library. Dictionaries were my favorite. At the breakfast table I would lose myself in one of my father's dictionaries, unwittingly engaging that talent we shared in common: the ability to enter a trance state wherein temporal concerns such as pain, hunger, fear, exhaustion, and the passage of time couldn't register. I lost myself in whatever was set before me unfettered by such distractions.
My mother encouraged this... indeed, she never once once forbid this exercise at the kitchen table or at any other time, only drawing the line at bedtime. That was difficult because the nightmares didn't end in the crib but continued onward during my youth, increasing in clarity, intensity, and duration. Many were recurring and unfolded sequentially. Where one ended, the next would resume.
I had a secret, however, which no one else knew about. Not all of my dreams were nightmares... some were visions, beautiful beyond description and glorious to behold. I was comforted for the shadows of darkness fled and was I left astonished by it all, incapable of grasping those words which the soothing voice spoke in their wake. That sums up what was "wrong" with me and what made me different from my father, and his father before him.
It pleased our Father in heaven to raise a hedge about me the day I was born. Indeed, the Son of Man was sent to this world to destroy the works of the evil one --- he who weakened the nations --- and even though He ascended to sit with our Father upon His throne once His work was done, Christ did not leave us bereft of comfort. The Lord sent the Comforter, the Holy Spirit of God, to minister to the men of this earth in darkness and it was He who comforted me in darkness and despair all those years ago. I wasn't cognizant of the truth because I didn't know the Lord and His ways:
The work of the wicked, that abominable program of eugenics involving the male descendants of my father's family line (his is not the only one), would come to an end with me. The will of the Lord unfolded even in my ignorance, protecting me from the programming which required my death because I failed to meet the criteria required of my lineage. Over and over again for many years I attempted suicide, powerless against the onslaught which arrived to consume me whole. I had to die.
I couldn't kill nor harm others... I fiercely resisted my controller... I refused to utilize my talents on their behalf... and most important of all, I never fathered children. Even my father, who became a failure himself later in life, complied with the compulsion to procreate. Procreation was the minimum required of us all for if the father is flawed, then the son can succeed in his place.
These were God's gifts for as His Spirit spoke, their works would come to an end in me.
I walked in darkness for most of my days on this Earth, tossed this way and that by a cruel wind because I violated the programming inculcated in me at a young age. There was something wrong with me. I wasn't like other children I knew to include my siblings; I was the only son of my mother and father. My earliest memories in this life took place in the crib where I was terrified to fall asleep on account of horrific nightmares, the likes of which were more compelling than waking life. I witnessed unspeakable horror when I closed my eyes.
I taught myself how to read at the age of three, acquiring the ability to write soon thereafter which I perfected by faithfully replicating pages from books in my parents' expansive library. Dictionaries were my favorite. At the breakfast table I would lose myself in one of my father's dictionaries, unwittingly engaging that talent we shared in common: the ability to enter a trance state wherein temporal concerns such as pain, hunger, fear, exhaustion, and the passage of time couldn't register. I lost myself in whatever was set before me unfettered by such distractions.
My mother encouraged this... indeed, she never once once forbid this exercise at the kitchen table or at any other time, only drawing the line at bedtime. That was difficult because the nightmares didn't end in the crib but continued onward during my youth, increasing in clarity, intensity, and duration. Many were recurring and unfolded sequentially. Where one ended, the next would resume.
I had a secret, however, which no one else knew about. Not all of my dreams were nightmares... some were visions, beautiful beyond description and glorious to behold. I was comforted for the shadows of darkness fled and was I left astonished by it all, incapable of grasping those words which the soothing voice spoke in their wake. That sums up what was "wrong" with me and what made me different from my father, and his father before him.
It pleased our Father in heaven to raise a hedge about me the day I was born. Indeed, the Son of Man was sent to this world to destroy the works of the evil one --- he who weakened the nations --- and even though He ascended to sit with our Father upon His throne once His work was done, Christ did not leave us bereft of comfort. The Lord sent the Comforter, the Holy Spirit of God, to minister to the men of this earth in darkness and it was He who comforted me in darkness and despair all those years ago. I wasn't cognizant of the truth because I didn't know the Lord and His ways:
The work of the wicked, that abominable program of eugenics involving the male descendants of my father's family line (his is not the only one), would come to an end with me. The will of the Lord unfolded even in my ignorance, protecting me from the programming which required my death because I failed to meet the criteria required of my lineage. Over and over again for many years I attempted suicide, powerless against the onslaught which arrived to consume me whole. I had to die.
I couldn't kill nor harm others... I fiercely resisted my controller... I refused to utilize my talents on their behalf... and most important of all, I never fathered children. Even my father, who became a failure himself later in life, complied with the compulsion to procreate. Procreation was the minimum required of us all for if the father is flawed, then the son can succeed in his place.
These were God's gifts for as His Spirit spoke, their works would come to an end in me.
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@Livingstone
I recognize some programming commonalities that all MK survivors have, such as suicide programming. That is placed in to keep you in line should you break rules. It keeps alters in a state of trauma.
My first attempt at dying was at age 5. I did this often ...taking my pillow into my little brother's toy box (it had nails poking through), shutting the lid, and pulling the pillow down over my face in hopes I'd stop breathing and die. I couldn't tell you how many times I did that. Probably dozens, if not more. I did the same on my bed at night. I would go under the blanket with a pillow and hold it as tightly as I could. I must have learned somehow that this is a way to die. That was something that happened frequently at ages 5 to 7.
My next attempt after that was age 14 when I was in foster care. I had finally told someone about the sexual abuse by my father. I had spent all those years trying to protect my mother and not hurt her. But talking is not allowed. It is outside the rules. Many times when working through deprogramming, alters would show up with suicide programming ("time to die").
I recognize some programming commonalities that all MK survivors have, such as suicide programming. That is placed in to keep you in line should you break rules. It keeps alters in a state of trauma.
My first attempt at dying was at age 5. I did this often ...taking my pillow into my little brother's toy box (it had nails poking through), shutting the lid, and pulling the pillow down over my face in hopes I'd stop breathing and die. I couldn't tell you how many times I did that. Probably dozens, if not more. I did the same on my bed at night. I would go under the blanket with a pillow and hold it as tightly as I could. I must have learned somehow that this is a way to die. That was something that happened frequently at ages 5 to 7.
My next attempt after that was age 14 when I was in foster care. I had finally told someone about the sexual abuse by my father. I had spent all those years trying to protect my mother and not hurt her. But talking is not allowed. It is outside the rules. Many times when working through deprogramming, alters would show up with suicide programming ("time to die").
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Livingstone
Member
"Talking is not allowed." I couldn't have said it better myself.
Everything came to a breaking point when I entered adolescence (it started early for me). I was fed lies in a world built upon falsehood. I had sworn a vow to never become my father nor capitulate with my mother, a scheming manipulator who loathed me for my resistance and non-compliance. Therefore she altered the programming, barraging me with scorn... hate... ridicule... shame... and because I was her captive by law there was only one way to silence her forever: kill myself. Death was preferable to the hell in which I lived.
I was familiar with human anatomy and settled upon piercing the radial artery. I secured a sharp blade and set myself to the task... but the moment that edge contacted my skin I froze in position, incapable of applying an iota of force to the blade. I strained with all of my might but I could not overcome the resistance. It was insane!
Later on, I thought to use a chef knife to plunge into my heart but encountered the same insurmountable resistance.
I studied patterns of traffic on the highway behind our housing on base. It was simple: I would leap into an 18 wheeler and put an end to the mistake of my existence. When the time came to do the deed I was stricken by what I was about to do to another human being. I was behind the wheel, watching it unfold, and I couldn't bear to go through with it. It was a monstrous thing to do to that driver.
On a day when no else was home, I took a bottle of my mother's pills. I laid down on the couch to die but moments later I was discovered when someone came home early. I survived the experience unscathed.
I decided to enlist in the Army in the hope that I might die in combat. My father, who by this point in life had broken his programming becoming an entirely different man, was dead-set against my enlistment. "Don't make the same mistake I did, son," he said. "You're smarter than I ever was... go to college instead. I'll help you any way I can." I wouldn't budge so my father struck a compromise: I would only serve one term, an opportunity to witness the truth of his words.
I found myself in the same occupational specialty which my father before me filled during his lengthy military career. Indeed, there were some high-ranking men who recognized my name... they took an interest in me. When war came I was prevented from fulfilling the reason why I enlisted, designated "indispensable" by my unit commander making it impossible for me to volunteer for the combat zone. I wasn't authorized to go anywhere, locked into my unit for the duration of the war.
Ah, but I was shocked to discover how well-suited I was to military life. Duty became the subject which I focused intensely upon, "losing myself" in carrying out my lawful orders with precision. This was one goal of my programming which worked to my advantage so for the duration of my enlistment, I devoted no thought to ending my life. I had a job to do... I would do that job well.
I honored the agreement with my father and processed out of the Army when my term expired, becoming disillusioned just as he predicted. Over the next three years I resumed the death wish only this time around, firearms were my choice. I didn't own one (never have) but it was simple enough to lay my hands on one. I found a secluded place, sat down, and pressed the muzzle of the gun against the proper location on my skull...
Only I couldn't pull the trigger. I strained with all of my might, devoting hours to waging war against my trigger finger which refused to budge.
At the conclusion of those three years the Lord called to me out of the blue, plucking me from the world and setting me on a path toward Jesus Christ. The rest is a matter of my testimony which I'm not going to commit to this forum.
How many times have I faced certain death? My efforts at suicide were only part of the story. The hedge which the Almighty raised preserved me for that day foretold in those visions which stood in such contrast against the hell in which I lived.
@Livingstone
Do you remember any formal government level trauma-based mind control?
Do you remember any formal government level trauma-based mind control?
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Livingstone
Member
Is this a new realization? Is it something you're uncomfortable sharing about?
Livingstone
Member
I'll share this instance and leave it at that
Many years ago (my early 30's) I stirred in bed during the hours of darkness, aware of movement in my apartment. I remained motionless, mimicking the breathing of sleep, opening my eyes long enough to note multiple flashlight beams in the hallway leading to my bedroom. I snapped them shut the moment they entered my room, sweeping their beams across my body and briefly passing over my face. I repeated the following to myself before losing consciousness: I will remember... I will remember this... I will not forget. I will remember.
I was tested during field exercises. I was issued an M-60 sub-machine gun, furnished with 800 rounds of ammunition, and posted on guard duty in a remote location in the mountains... a desert in the middle of nowhere. My orders were simple: if anyone entered my area of overwatch, regardless of who they happened to be, I was authorized to use lethal force if they failed to obey my commands. I was not surprised when two high-ranking officers appeared in my perimeter late one morning. I was expecting it.
One of the officers was a general and the other was a colonel. To their merit they froze in their tracks when I commanded them to halt. When I issued the challenge according to protocol the general furnished an obsolete passphrase, which I was also expecting. I issued the challenge a second time and once again the general supplied an outdated passphrase, whereupon he unleashed his wrath upon my refusal to permit him passage through my perimeter. Did I realize how much trouble I was in? My posterior was grass! He would have my rank and send me to Leavenworth with a swiftness.
I advised the general of my orders and the fact that I was authorized to use lethal force if I deemed it necessary. Instead of splattering his innards all over the landscape --- that was Option A --- I elected Option B, informing the officers to stand fast while I contacted my commander to apprise him of the situation. He arrived with an entourage, telling me to stand down at ease. The general and the colonel made a beeline for my position... the colonel was grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Outstanding, soldier!" the general barked, clapping me on the shoulder. "You didn't flinch, not once."
I had nightmares about that experience for quite some time.
It's not new though I didn't make the connection until recently. The following is as far as I will go for the time being.
Many years ago (my early 30's) I stirred in bed during the hours of darkness, aware of movement in my apartment. I remained motionless, mimicking the breathing of sleep, opening my eyes long enough to note multiple flashlight beams in the hallway leading to my bedroom. I snapped them shut the moment they entered my room, sweeping their beams across my body and briefly passing over my face. I repeated the following to myself before losing consciousness: I will remember... I will remember this... I will not forget. I will remember.
I was tested during field exercises. I was issued an M-60 sub-machine gun, furnished with 800 rounds of ammunition, and posted on guard duty in a remote location in the mountains... a desert in the middle of nowhere. My orders were simple: if anyone entered my area of overwatch, regardless of who they happened to be, I was authorized to use lethal force if they failed to obey my commands. I was not surprised when two high-ranking officers appeared in my perimeter late one morning. I was expecting it.
One of the officers was a general and the other was a colonel. To their merit they froze in their tracks when I commanded them to halt. When I issued the challenge according to protocol the general furnished an obsolete passphrase, which I was also expecting. I issued the challenge a second time and once again the general supplied an outdated passphrase, whereupon he unleashed his wrath upon my refusal to permit him passage through my perimeter. Did I realize how much trouble I was in? My posterior was grass! He would have my rank and send me to Leavenworth with a swiftness.
I advised the general of my orders and the fact that I was authorized to use lethal force if I deemed it necessary. Instead of splattering his innards all over the landscape --- that was Option A --- I elected Option B, informing the officers to stand fast while I contacted my commander to apprise him of the situation. He arrived with an entourage, telling me to stand down at ease. The general and the colonel made a beeline for my position... the colonel was grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Outstanding, soldier!" the general barked, clapping me on the shoulder. "You didn't flinch, not once."
I had nightmares about that experience for quite some time.