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The Children of God
The Inside Story By The Daughter Of The Founder, Moses David Berg by Deborah (Linda Berg) Davis with Bill Davis, 1984
Being the oldest child of David Berg had its special problems. How to accept him as God's Endtime Prophet, Moses David, after thirty years of his being just "dad" caused a rending of my soul, mind, and conscience. Yet securing my total loyalty seemed to be the primary motivation behind the "Prayer For A Queen" prophecy that Moses David received "directly from heaven." The place was London; the time, September 16, 1972. She is born to be a Queen, and can be no less. She must set the example to show Thy people she puts the work and duty before personal pleasure and personal concerns. She cannot always be a woman, but she must always be a Queen—She has Thy people in her hands, Thy flock; as Thy Shepherdess, she shall diligently feed and lead them and protect them . . .1 An English millionaire, whose son had joined the Children of God, had given to the movement the use of a large, vacant factory. It was affectionately referred to as the Bromley Colony, and it housed from 50 to 150 disciples at a time. In it we set up a print shop, a small school, a photo lab, a large industrial kitchen, and offices for the secretarial staff. It was the hub of our European activities for a number of years. Disciples would arrive from the United States and be processed through the Bromley Factory, and from there be sent into "all the world" to "preach the gospel." On the fateful night, more than two hundred disciples were gathered for the big event. We prepared a fantastic meal complete with turkey, potatoes, gravy, cake, and ice cream; a veritable treat for the revolutionary disciples accustomed to eating a diet consisting of starch, starch, and more starch. These were days of pioneering and expansion and sacrifice. A disciple's spiritual diet would compensate for the lack of physical diet. But on this night the banquet tables were overflowing, and a spirit of festivity and joy filled the huge second floor of the Factory. There was dancing, music, and a great spirit of liberty and hope. The disciples didn't really know what was going to happen; everyone was simply told to be prepared for something wonderful and exciting. There was a strong feeling of suspense. "Do you know what's going on? Why are we having this big meeting?" "Why, I don't really know. I heard it has to do with Deborah!" "What do you suppose that stage is for? They've been working on it all week. Mo must have gotten a heavy revelation!" The red carpet had been rolled out; literally. To this day I don't know where they found the hundred foot roll. The lights were dimmed, and into the room marched a royal procession of the Queen and her court. Other queens, princes, princesses, lords, and ladies of our Royal Revolutionary Kingdom were in attendance, with costumes rented from a local costume shop. It looked like a scene directly out of 16th-century Tudor England; the only thing missing was King Henry himself. My sister's husband, Joshua, had earned the title of Archbishop for the occasion, and presided over the Coronation as the personal representative of our Prophet and King. In one of my hands was placed a scepter, the symbol of my royal Power; in the other, a Bible, the symbol of God's authority. Archbishop Joshua solemnly read the prophetic revelation Mo had received from the Lord, entitled the "Prayer For A Queen," and then crowned me with a bejeweled diadem. The Factory shook as the two hundred disciples cheered choruses of "Long live the Queen!" My father lived in a rented house quite near the Bromley Factory. Nestled among the prim and proper homes of the quaint London suburb, he lived; a kind, retired American gentleman with his young "daughter," Maria. You would see them every evening taking a casual walk past the neatly manicured lawns and exquisite rose gardens of Bromley, Kent. It was a most beautiful and tidy English community, the ideal frame for the image my dad was attempting to portray. It was also part of an elaborate veil of secrecy and security. Moses David had been living incognito for more than two years. There were two basic reasons for this. The first was security. My dad lived under great paranoia, always fearing for his life. It is true that there were people, especially in the United States, who would have liked to see Moses David locked up; but his fear and obsession with security were irrational. At times I feel he was trying to create an air of importance, setting himself high above his followers and the rest of the world. At other times, I think he was downright scared. As time passed, it became impossible to tell the difference. The second reason for his life secrecy was the development of his persona as the Prophet on the Mountain. Being separated from the disciples created a sense of mystery and awe. A man perceived on paper is always more impressive than one known in the flesh. The less the disciples saw of Moses David, the more they would reverence the sacred image developed in the "Mo Letters." Only a very small percentage of the thousands of people who have joined the COG have ever met my father in person. Anyone visiting the Bromley Factory became submerged in a sea of happy, smiling faces and greetings of "Jesus loves you!" The dedicated youth strummed emotional folk songs that stirred the imagination to "reach out and touch the hand of God"; on the streets they witnessed by the hour of salvation in Jesus Christ, Forsake All, and follow Jesus full-time. But as in every cult, appearances were deceiving. Only the Royal Family knew what was going on behind the scenes, in the counsel chambers of Moses David. The Royal Family were the only people who actually knew Moses David's whereabouts and talked to him personally. The leadership structure of the Children of God has changed through the years, (always with Moses David at the top, of course); but in 1972 it was governed by a hierarchy. Atop the hierarchy were the Royal Family; David Berg's personal family: my husband, Jethro, and I; my sister, Faithy, and her husband, Joshua; my brother Aaron; my brother Hosea and his wife, Esther; and my mother, known in the movement as Mother Eve, or simply Mother. Maria—Moses David's secretary, mistress, and full-time companion, was also a member of the Royal Family, whose place grew in importance with time.*
The Royal Family commuted between the Bromley Factory and the secret house under strict security rules. Usually, we could come and go only after dark so as not to arouse the suspicion of neighbors at the sight of these unconventional people visiting the quaint American gentleman. We were always to use the same car; if perchance we came in a different vehicle, it was to be parked around the block out of view of the neighbors. From his tidy little home, Moses David was busily engineering his worldwide Revolution for Jesus. The movement had never been stronger, and it was gaining momentum every day. However, this success was exacting a staggering toll from the personal lives of the Royal Family. By the time of my Coronation, my life was at the very least an atrocity. My marriage had been virtually destroyed, traditional Christian principles obliterated, and all ties with outside relatives severed. Only one thing mattered: The Cause! There was no place for natural affections; these more often than not got in the way and hindered the "work of God." Thus, normal friendships and relationships were rendered useless. Given the immorality that permeated the lives of the leadership in 1972, one could hardly carry on a normal life, let alone a normal marriage. Life was anything but normal; life for the dedicated disciple of Moses David was not intended to be normal! We were in a revolution—ushering in the Revolutionary Kingdom of God! The Cause was all. My father wrote to all the disciples at that time, Prior to the Coronation, Dad had ordered my husband, Jethro, to return to the United States to oversee the work there. This was an important move in his overall plan. At the time, my marriage of nine years was in the final stages of deterioration, and Jethro and I could no longer treat each other with kindness or respect. My loneliness, confusion, and despair led me into an adulterous relationship with one of the disciples in the Bromley Colony. This affair would prove to be disastrous in his life, a source of deep personal sorrow. My father was keenly aware of the grief my marriage was causing me, and he began to worry about my new relationship. Not because he thought it was wrong, but because it posed a threat to his hold over me. My involvement was not "sharing." He greatly feared I would fall in love and find happiness and security, which would diminish his power over me. He was right. Only years later I realized that as long as I was fighting and unhappy with my husband, Dad was inwardly pleased. He enjoyed the conflicts and often aggravated them through his devious manipulations of people and circumstances. If my loyalty to Jethro were subverted, it would necessarily be directed toward my father. Dad well knew this fact. (False prophets cannot exist with- out total loyalty.) Marriage as an institution threatens loyalty to Moses David; through his doctrines on sex and marriage, he has destroyed the institution within the COG. At the time of the "Queen Prophecy, " all the Royal Family members were conveniently situated in other parts of the world, with the exception of Joshua and me. It was Dad's chance to make his move: he would make me Queen. I would be exalted, honored, blessed of God—all by merit of his prophetic revelations. As Queen I would be married to the work, and to the work alone. All other relationships would be secondary. Thus, living in adultery and watching my marriage disintegrate, I was crowned Queen of God's New Nation. Yet my reign was short-lived. In a few days I would discover my dad's true motives for the Coronation, and in a few months, Queen Deborah would be summoned to the Royal Guillotine. One evening, a few days after the Coronation, Dad made his move. He delivered the master stroke designed to solidify my place within the Kingdom, establish my position before God, and prove my loyalty to God's King and Prophet. I had been to his secret house for discussion and counsel. I decided to spend the night, as it was too late to return to the Bromley Colony. I was asleep when he entered. I was awakened gently. "Deborah, Deborah, wake up, honey." "Yes, Dad. What is it? What's wrong?" "Honey, the Lord has given us a great deal of freedom in Christ. We mustn't look upon it lightly. God's love is all-encompassing, and to the pure all things are pure." My stomach tightened. "God has made me King over His New Nation, and now He has made you the Queen. God wants from each of us total loyalty and submission. As Queen, you must prove your loyalty to God and the King. God has given us all things freely in Christ Jesus, and His only law is love." Oh, God! I thought. Is that why he has done all this? The nightmare was all too familiar. Memories came to life of the times when Dad had made similar advances—once when I was seven, once when I was twelve. Now I was twenty-six, and Dad was attempting it again under the banner of prophetic revelation: Incest. "But you're my dad, my father! I don't need this. I love you without this. It's not necessary to prove my love this way; I already love you. Perhaps in a few years when I'm more spiritual; I'm not spiritually ready yet." Feigning sleep, I rolled over, and he left me in peace. Peace? My mind was burning with confusion. Dad had made me Queen, set me up, all for that! I thought, Could the desire for sex, for incest, be so powerful, lust so all consuming, diseasing a person's mind so totally that he has no control over himself? Although I was not conscious of it at the time, God was bringing me face to face with the consequences of unrepented sin. Even after all these years, my father was still a slave to these evil passions and desires. For the next nine years, God would continue to confront me with the consequences of sin; but at that time I had no idea that God was even around; nor had I the slightest notion of what God deemed right or wrong. Life was becoming a jumble of sordid experiences held together by the framework of religious acts. Why does he want this so? I wondered. Since I was only seven years old. I was feeling terribly sick. My thoughts ran wild. What about the man I am living with? My husband? My children? My mother? Is this right? One question led to another, and my confusion turned to despair. But I know I love this man—I thought—the man with whom I was living in adultery. Love? What is love? Do I really love him, or am I just telling myself that? It was Dad who condoned the relationship in the first place. I have Mo's permission, and therefore the Lord's approval; that makes it right and not adultery. But maybe Dad only allowed it to appease me, to set me up for his incestuous desires. What does the Lord have to do with it? No! I really love this man. God is in it! My turmoil intensified. I did not know that my life was being consumed by sin. In the COG, sin did not exist: "to the pure all things are pure." The idea of sin had been carefully removed and set aside by the doctrines of Moses David. However, the doctrines of Moses David did not rule my conscience completely. Thus my soul felt its torture. Within a few days of that experience, I left for a month's tour of our European Colonies in Switzerland, Spain, and Italy. News of the Coronation had reached the other Royal Family members, and they were in an uproar. They wanted me out! Political jealousy flared. By the end of October, everyone was back in London. On October 28, Dad delivered his infamous "One Wife" address to the members of the Royal Family. This would become the foundation principle for all his future sex doctrines. According to Mo—as Moses David was familiarly called—"The private family is the basis of the selfish capitalistic private enterprise system and all its selfish evils! . . . the most successful communes [referring to communal systems of the past] either abolished all private relationships entirely and required total celibacy, or abandoned the private marriage unit for group marriage." Mo was determined to see that his children and disciples would be "successful for the Lord"; not even marriage would stand in our way. Divine retribution. My rejection of God's Prophet was not to go unpunished or unnoticed; moreover, the incident would provide an opportunity to further reveal "the Lord's direction on sex and true freedom." The entire Royal Family was gathered for a leadership meeting in Dad's pretty English home in that quaint London suburb. There was a low fire burning in the fireplace as we took our seats among the couches and chairs of the downstairs living room. We were discussing general details of the work, and it seemed like a normal meeting. Then Dad started in: "The churches have gone astray in their puritanical interpretations of the Scriptures. God has been showing us the wonders and beauty of the freedom He has given us. Sex is one of God's greatest gifts to man, and we are free under grace to enjoy the liberties of sexual freedom. To the pure all things are pure. But there are some here who are and have been resisting the Spirit of God! And God won't have it!" I knew it was coming. Instinctively I stifled my emotions. My mother hung her head. She too knew a traumatic session was in the making. "In the Bible, " Dad continued, "God makes many exceptions to His rules. How do you think Adam and Eve propagated the human race? Who do you think Cain took as his wife?—he took one of his sisters, of course! And what about Lot and his daughters? It says that Lot had intercourse with his daughters, and God made a great nation out of them. If we take a closer look at Scripture, we find that in some special situations, God breaks His own rules." He railed for hours, citing Scripture after Scripture to prove his point. Then he turned his attack directly against me. Because I had refused my father's desire for an incestuous relationship, I had in effect refused to accept him as God's Prophet. The Prophet did not act selfishly or for his own personal design or pleasure—it was always under the direct inspiration of the Almighty. I had rejected the counsel of the Lord. I was no longer worthy to be called Queen. It was, indeed, my little sister, Faithy, who was the rightful Queen—she had never rejected my father. It was revealed in front of all present, for the first time, that from her early childhood, she and my father had practiced incest. It was she who reverenced him as a true Prophet. I was rebellious and selfish—I had always rejected him. Consequently, the newly crowned Queen Deborah lost not only her title, but figuratively her head as well. I was demoted, removed from all power and authority, ordered to be subservient to all present, and stripped of my right to the throne. I had lost the birthright because of my rebelliousness. My dad said he would never give me a chance to be restored. My adulterous relationship with the man at the Bromley Colony was also terminated, although no one present knew that I was pregnant with his baby. All these were conditions of God's wrath being poured out upon me via His Prophet. I sat quietly through this session, showing little emotion. Inside I was seething: I hated my father. He had ruined everything I held dear in my life. How can he be so perverted, so selfish? I looked at my mother and wondered how she had put up with this kind of thing all these years. There she sat, in stunned silence. How could she? I wasn't going to take it; not this time! What was the point of going on? I would never be happy as long as I was living under my dad—but there was no way to get away from him. To whom would I go? I had no one to turn to. I determined what to do: Like the warriors of Masada, I would snatch the victory from him. I will not get emotional, I told myself as his tirade continued unabated. I will not explode. I will act repentant and sorrowful. When the meeting is over, I will go quietly to bed and then sneak out in the early hours of the morning. I will leave this horrible house and never, never return! London at four o'clock in the morning is a very cold, rainy, and lonely place for the banished daughter of a prophet. I had escaped undetected with a few pounds in my purse; enough to last a couple of days in a cheap hotel. It is hard to relive such moments, but today I can be thankful for God's merciful hand that kept me alive. I had come to the edge of life itself in that lonely hotel room. I was standing at the brink. Only four months later, my brother Aaron would also stand at that brink. His body was to be found at the bottom of a cliff just outside Geneva, Switzerland. I had fully intended to commit suicide when I fled my father's house; yet I could not do it. I look back upon these events and ponder. What was that restraining force within me? Was it God? The will to survive? Faith? Was it concern for my children? All I know is that as much as I considered suicide, I just could not accomplish it. How was it that my brother could? I spent four days alone in that tiny hotel room. For four days the spiritual battle raged. I ate nothing. I told myself I would never return to that house, or to my father, or have anything to do with the COG again. I thought about going back and telling my father he was wrong. Hatred stirred at the thought of what he was doing, what he had tried to do to me. I wanted to confront him. A part of me told me that he was wrong; and if that were true, it meant God was on my side, not his. As I struggled with these doubts, my mind became more clear, more sane than it had felt for years. But then the flood of circumstance consumed me. Whether from fear, or confusion, or my indescribable state of lostness, I concluded that I could not fight my father. What would happen to my children? I knew that if I confronted Dad, I wouldn't stand a chance of winning. He knew just the right buttons to push, what weak points to attack, how to get through any defenses. By the time he'd finish with me, I would believe that he was right, and I totally wrong. No, to enter his arena was impossible. When I finally decided to resign my will, to give in and go back, I lost all desire to fight. What little fire had burned in my conscience was extinguished by the resignation of my will. I saw no alternative but to surrender. By that time, there was bedlam among the Royal Family. They were scared. Dad was worried that I might have taken my life. I agreed to let Joshua come and see me. He brought with him a personal letter from Dad: "Oh, my dearest . . . God has a place for you . . . I was hasty . . . So sorry . . . Too much pressure . . . Continue your relationship . . ." My dad's plan to gain total control over me and begin his long-desired incestuous relationship had backfired. Moreover, he had a mutiny on his hands because of it. My brothers and sister and husband were furiously jealous over the Coronation. My demotion as Queen was the perfect tranquilizer. I think my dad actually enjoyed those family mutinies. He methodically twisted words in order to pit us one against the other—like rats fighting over the carcass of another rat. He would purposely wound a specific member of the Royal Family, then stand back and watch the others devour it. If he could keep us fighting and divided, he could keep us loyal to him, and his power secure. I was seeing the naked truth of this for the first time; the viciousness, the perversion, the intense jealousy, the evil lust for power. Yet I returned knowingly to all this. The circumstances had not changed. There was method in all of my father's madness; this I now painfully knew to be true. But where can I go? I rationalized. I had conquered the battle over physical suicide alone in the hotel room. But in going back, I had lost an even greater battle: I was committing spiritual suicide. Purposefully, I placed myself in a mental box. I would accept reality only to the limits of that box; beyond that, I would accept or see nothing. I would bide my time. Fate alone would determine the course of my life. Insanity, suicide, and emotional destruction had been deflected. My box afforded me suitable protection. Yet what lived inside that box? I was a person out of time, without reality, without foundation, without feeling. I floated in space like a weightless capsule. God and the reality of Jesus Christ had ceased to exist; love was a myth; sex a nightmare of assorted perversions. Right and wrong had been sucked side by side into the vacuum of antinomianism; I had transcended the gravity of moral law. I had entered the outer limits of hell.
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