through heavy drinking. But he blamed his drinking binges on those who had deserted and betrayed him.
"See, I'm not like other preachers who hide their sins," he would write in his confessions. "I'm a terrible sinner, but God has chosen me to lead you. God still called King David of Israel 'a man after his own heart' even after he had Uriah murdered so he could marry his wife. I'm just a man with many faults, but when I'm in the spirit, I'm God's prophet and King."
This show of openness and false humility was swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Dad would tell me, "He's so humble, if only we could be more like him." But slowly I began to see the glaring double standard, and that the adults seemed to readily excuse his indiscretions because he was "God's anointed."
Maria was constantly sending out prayer requests for his health and would blame us for our lack of fervency in prayer when he became seriously sick and unable to eat solid foods. We had to fast and pray for our prophet's healing on many occasions. During these three-day fasts, no solid food, sex, or alcohol was allowed. Children like me who were under twelve were given minimal food, usually liquid soup, and the hunger pangs were just as difficult to endure as the long prayer and prophecy sessions.
Up until this time, our cook, Antonio, made wine by fermenting grapes in large containers. This meant that alcohol was free flowing. Some apparently could not hold their drink. One morning, on the day after an orgy, I could see that the adults were on edge as we were all summoned to the living room. Paul Peloquin rolled in, his face like thunder.
"There is sin in the camp! The Devil has been allowed to get in!" he roared.
I knew something must have happened to get him going like this and listened carefully. From his ranting, I pieced together that one of the men, Paul Michael, had done some "perversion" in the bedroom with Endureth, the mother of Renee and Daniella. I tried to imagine what it might be. As his ranting escalated to the frothing at the mouth and arms waving level, I sat there terrified at what he would do next. I wondered why the children were in trouble too. I did not drink wine. I had been in bed asleep.
"There has been too much partying and drinking, damn it!" Paul shouted. "Antonio, I want you to bring all the wine containers here right now and line them up on this table, he ordered.
Antonio scuttled back and forth as he brought out every last wine bottle and container from the storage room. There were at least fifteen of them.
"Is that everything?" Paul yelled.
"Yes, sir," Antonio replied, and sat down.
Paul picked up the first of the large containers. He could barely lift it off the table. "There will be no more drinking. Period! If this is what is causing the poison in the camp, then it's going to go. And if you think I don't mean it, then..."
In what seemed like slow motion, I watched him throw his arms back and hurl one container after another out on to the patio. The sound of crashing glass continued for ten minutes, as he chucked every last bottle out.
I looked in horror at the shattered glass and pools of wine that had seeped out into the garden. I wondered if Paul had thought about who would have to clean up the mess afterwards and how dangerous broken glass was.
"We're going to have desperate prayer and fasting," he shouted, "and no alcohol for the next three months."
Fervently, everyone got down on their hands and knees, and took turns praying for forgiveness for the next two hours. The floor was hard, cold marble, and my knees began to ache and my legs tingled with pins and needles. I was relieved when the tongues and weeping finally died down, thinking that maybe we could get up and sit down again. But then the prophecies started. I tried to move into different positions to get comfortable, but I was scared that Paul might notice and single me out for punishment.
I had good reason to be scared. Paul thought I had disobeyed him
"See, I'm not like other preachers who hide their sins," he would write in his confessions. "I'm a terrible sinner, but God has chosen me to lead you. God still called King David of Israel 'a man after his own heart' even after he had Uriah murdered so he could marry his wife. I'm just a man with many faults, but when I'm in the spirit, I'm God's prophet and King."
This show of openness and false humility was swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Dad would tell me, "He's so humble, if only we could be more like him." But slowly I began to see the glaring double standard, and that the adults seemed to readily excuse his indiscretions because he was "God's anointed."
Maria was constantly sending out prayer requests for his health and would blame us for our lack of fervency in prayer when he became seriously sick and unable to eat solid foods. We had to fast and pray for our prophet's healing on many occasions. During these three-day fasts, no solid food, sex, or alcohol was allowed. Children like me who were under twelve were given minimal food, usually liquid soup, and the hunger pangs were just as difficult to endure as the long prayer and prophecy sessions.
Up until this time, our cook, Antonio, made wine by fermenting grapes in large containers. This meant that alcohol was free flowing. Some apparently could not hold their drink. One morning, on the day after an orgy, I could see that the adults were on edge as we were all summoned to the living room. Paul Peloquin rolled in, his face like thunder.
"There is sin in the camp! The Devil has been allowed to get in!" he roared.
I knew something must have happened to get him going like this and listened carefully. From his ranting, I pieced together that one of the men, Paul Michael, had done some "perversion" in the bedroom with Endureth, the mother of Renee and Daniella. I tried to imagine what it might be. As his ranting escalated to the frothing at the mouth and arms waving level, I sat there terrified at what he would do next. I wondered why the children were in trouble too. I did not drink wine. I had been in bed asleep.
"There has been too much partying and drinking, damn it!" Paul shouted. "Antonio, I want you to bring all the wine containers here right now and line them up on this table, he ordered.
Antonio scuttled back and forth as he brought out every last wine bottle and container from the storage room. There were at least fifteen of them.
"Is that everything?" Paul yelled.
"Yes, sir," Antonio replied, and sat down.
Paul picked up the first of the large containers. He could barely lift it off the table. "There will be no more drinking. Period! If this is what is causing the poison in the camp, then it's going to go. And if you think I don't mean it, then..."
In what seemed like slow motion, I watched him throw his arms back and hurl one container after another out on to the patio. The sound of crashing glass continued for ten minutes, as he chucked every last bottle out.
I looked in horror at the shattered glass and pools of wine that had seeped out into the garden. I wondered if Paul had thought about who would have to clean up the mess afterwards and how dangerous broken glass was.
"We're going to have desperate prayer and fasting," he shouted, "and no alcohol for the next three months."
Fervently, everyone got down on their hands and knees, and took turns praying for forgiveness for the next two hours. The floor was hard, cold marble, and my knees began to ache and my legs tingled with pins and needles. I was relieved when the tongues and weeping finally died down, thinking that maybe we could get up and sit down again. But then the prophecies started. I tried to move into different positions to get comfortable, but I was scared that Paul might notice and single me out for punishment.
I had good reason to be scared. Paul thought I had disobeyed him
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