Heaven's Harlots: My Fifteen Years in a Sex Cult by Miriam Williams Page A

worked together, sang together, and (separated into boys, girls, and married couple dorms) slept together. The main purpose seemed to be training new disciples, like me, to become full-time witnessers for the Lord. I learned that the Children of God had set up witnessing homes in many big cities across the nation, and would soon be setting one up in Manhattan.
    In addition, they made weekly trips to New York City and came back with dozens of new recruits. Most of them were drugged-out hippies. Many stayed on for days, weeks, or months, and during this time no one touched any dope. Thorough searches for drugs were conducted frequently, and no smoking or alcohol was allowed.
    A few days after I had arrived—I lost count of the exact number of days that had gone by—a “sister” suggested that I go to the “Forsake All” and get new clothes. She explained that like the early disciples in the Bible, we shared everything here, including our worldly possessions.
    When I told her that I had brought enough clothes with me, she informed me that I would have to forsake those, or give them up. “Old things are passed away, all things become new,” she said, quoting II Corinthians 5, 17.
    The Forsake All held the discarded clothes of all the people who had joined at this particular commune, or “colony,” as they called it.
    The Forsake All room was large and orderly. Boys’ clothes were neatly folded in one area and girls’ in another. The sister who took me suggested I get a few skirts.
    “We believe that girls should dress feminine and modestly,” she said with authority, as if she were my fashion coordinator.
    She chose two long, shapeless skirts that were similar to the ones that most of the other girls were wearing. She allowed me to pick two blouses and a sweater. Those five items, along with a few pairs of underwear, would be my clothes for the next couple of months. I was also allotted a long warm coat. My army jacket, along with my beloved embroidered jeans, were taken away. I later saw the army jacket on a boy, but I never saw my jeans again.
    It seemed that the members who had been with the Children for a while “had the faith” and that I was a disciple. Being a college student and having some definite goals in life, I was quite different from the regular recruit they picked up in New York. They informed me that I was a “chosen one” of God, like the rest of them there. I felt a surge of pride and recognition. I knew I was different—no wonder they had found me! Then I brushed it aside out of ingrained humility, probably learned in Sunday school as a little girl. Instead, I should be thankful that He had chosen little, insignificant me. I would have to prove I was worthy.
    The Bible did say,“Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you” (John
    15, 16).
     
    I eventually could have taken these thoughts further and come to the logical conclusion that God doesn’t go around “choosing people” in this way, but I was never left alone to think for myself. As a new disciple, I constantly had a big brother or sister at my side, usually quoting scriptures that reinforced the Children of God lifestyle and beliefs. “All that believed were together and had all things in common, and sold their possessions and goods and parted them to all men” (Acts 2, 44). “And be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12, 2). I learned that new disciples should never be left alone with their thoughts, and that I should not think like a “flatlander,” who could only see in a flat dimension. I tried to discipline my mind to not think of anything but biblical, spiritual, higher thoughts.
    Although I don’t remember making any verbal decision to join or signing anything, I handed over to the group all my belongings, including my driver’s license, which was never returned. In my purse, I’d had only the few dollars we had panhandled in New York, which was also handed