Vol. 13, No. 2, 1996

Where Were You in My Trials?

Lana Rollins

It was a hard life growing up in a Jehovah's Witness family. At school I was often mocked by teachers and students. Our own congregation of Jehovah's Witnesses despised our poverty and ridiculed my father who suffered from psychomotor seizures. He was also an alcoholic and I endured his abuse until, in an effort to escape, I married a non-Witness.

I soon stopped attending meetings, started smoking and engaged in immorality. Guilt-stricken and terrified, I believed that Armageddon was coming in 1975 and that everyone outside the organization would be destroyed. In 1970, hoping to save our marriage, my husband moved our family from Dallas to Denver for a new start.

By 1972 I had three children and I returned to the organization. Weekly bible studies were started with my husband and me. He was delighted with what he was learning, completely changing from a hateful, abusive tyrant to a kind and caring husband and father. He and I were baptized together in Salt Lake City, Utah, in 1974. We both thought this was the beginning of a long and happy life. We were wrong.

The trouble began when I accepted the invitation Jesus gave in Matt 26:22-28 to take communion, because I accepted His blood shed for the forgiveness of my sins and I believed in His promise of life everlasting in Heaven. I was immediately opposed and "marked" by the Elders, as this made me to be one of the "anointed," or one of the 144,000 who alone could take part in communion. They judged me by my past record and pronounced me "unworthy."

The Elders started rebuking me for offenses never committed and I was advised that if I denied I was one of the anointed then all would be forgotten. I refused. About this time my husband turned back to his violent behavior and attacks on the children and myself.

The following 18 months were tragic. I was rushed to a hospital to undergo major surgery for the same hereditary disease from which my mother had recently died. I remained true to the Watchtower and survived without a blood transfusion. Shortly after this, my seven year old daughter also needed a blood transfusion and once again I refused.

Then my house burnt down. We lost everything. Two weeks after the fire, my ten-year old son was in a car wreck. Despite a court order, he made his own defense and no blood was given. My elders warned friends that it would be a "matter of conscience" to help us because we were not "good Witnesses."

Soon after this my husband deserted the family and I moved to Pueblo. The elders of Denver sent a slanderous letter about my family to the elders in Pueblo which they were not ashamed to show me. I was later diagnosed with Post Traumatic Depression, believing that Jehovah had now totally rejected me. I planned to kill myself.

Everything changed when, in 1992, I read an article in the Watchtower that claimed they had received "brilliant flashes of spiritual light" concerning the year 1935. I had considered myself a replacement for one of those who had fallen away from the 144,000. But the article stressed the improbability of one being part of the 144,000 who had not been faithfully serving the Watchtower since 1935. They used Luke 22:28-30 as their text: "You are the ones who have stuck with me in my trials; and I make a covenant with you, just as my Father has made a covenant with me..." (Watchtower, 1 March 1992, pp. 20-21). Where were these people during my trials? Not only had they denied my position in Christ, but they tried to strip my individuality and demean my selfworth. Divine Light flashed up into my life and I said out loud, "This is a cult!"

For six months I investigated the history of the organization and its teachings. I wrote my letter of disassociation to the Watchtower. John 8:58 (KJV) proved that Jesus is God and not Michael the Archangel. For the first time in my life I felt free to pray directly to Jesus, the One whom I had always known as Lord. I asked him to forgive me for my past idolatry of worshipping a man-made organization. The sweetest peace then filled every part of my being and I knew He had heard me. I know that I am not one of the 144,000 but I have found my place with Christ. When I attend church I blend in with all the other anointed ones. Now I look for opportunities to minister to hurting Jehovah's Witnesses and point them to Jesus.