A forward

I lay on the floor of the bathroom, retching. I was sure I was going to die. I had a TV show to do in just a few hours and I was certain that I wouldn’t live to see it.  I pulled myself up, leaning against the wall next to the toilet, trying to pull away from the pain I was in and sort out what  was happening. 

I supposed that I had contracted food poisoning during the Pastors’ lunch earlier,  but then, my table  companions, sharing the same pizza, were not in here fighting for space at this receptacle.  I remembered the two out-of-town visitors,  whose attendance  our host expressed  concern over. “This is a dangerous business, and I don’t know these fellows,” he warned. 

“Don’t give it another thought,” I answered. “God is our protector.”

Then I recalled that one of them had offered to refresh my drink and I had consented.  A half hour later, I was  convulsing in pain.   

Reflecting back, years later now, I guess  I ought to have questioned the wisdom of going to Inverness, Scotland to do a TV program on “The Occult Origins of Scottish Rite Masonry.”  My host was correct in his concern, yet God truly was my protector.

I rose up that evening by His strength and did that program, standing up. Yet, by the morning I was too ill to continue my tour and the next day began a terrible journey back to Seattle, to my own doctors and my own family. I arrived home barely able to walk The poison had effected my involuntary muscle system and it was  difficult to  use my hands and feet and hold my head steady. I arrived in Seattle more than  25 pounds lighter than I left.

Tests showed that I had sustained a high, lethal dose of arsenic, enough to have killed me a few times over. It took months to recover from the incident.  Not only had the poison done serious damage to my digestive system, but  I would lay in bed, sleeping fitfully while my body twitched continually. Later, the heavy metal began to work its way out through vicious  sores in  the tops of my hands and my head, making a terrible odor that smelled like dog urine.


Even just recently, years later, while I was undergoing lung surgery  caused by a bus accident, several blood vessels in my lower back broke  spontaneously  for apparently no reason. The doctors puzzled over the phenomenon for the better part of the day until a nurse asked my wife  if I had been exposed to metallic poison in a work environment. When Carol told them about the Scotland incident, they had their answer. Tests showed that pockets of arsenic still in my system [lower back area] had been the cause and the vessels broke while I was in severe trauma. 

I suppose we could have pointed out the man who poisoned me. He would have gone to prison, but as one Scottish friend warned,  our host  would have paid the price at the hands of  the Masons in response.  It wasn’t worth it. I am still alive and I am still  speaking out the awful truth of the lodge. I am sure there are more than a few Masons in Scotland that can’t understand why I am still alive.  I do. It was because God intended me to live.

The trip to Scotland wasn’t by chance. I had been studying , writing and lecturing on  Freemasonry for a number of years.  Somehow, I had become an expert.  It wasn’t an easy transition.

When I began to study the Lodge with a critical eye, it meant that I had to look back at my own father, grandfather and their fathers before them for almost two hundred years. They were honest men, church men who took our faith, our family and our country seriously, fighting in its many wars.  Generation after generation, each son followed after his father and entered into membership in the Lodge. That line ended when I stepped out of the DeMoLay to join the Mormon Church. 

The Mormon church told me that Masonry was a society of “secret combinations” and “works of darkness.“ I was forbidden to continue membership in the DeMoLay and later, as an active Mormon, I would not seek to follow my father into the Lodge. 

Years later, after I became a born again Christian, while I was at a service in a Baptist church teaching on the LDS Temple ritual,  I discovered from an angry church Deacon that the ritual of the Masonic Lodge was the actual foundation of the LDS temple ritual. I knew that if what he said was true, I would have to expose the roots of Masonry to the same light of truth that I was bringing to bear on Mormonism. That was easier said than done.

Within a month of that experience, I found myself at the funeral of a friend’s father and once seated, discovered I was about to witness a Masonic funeral. By the time those men in their somber clothes walked down the church aisle, I knew that this  was  birthed in the very pit of hell and it  had become rooted  within the church, itself. I knew there was work to do.

It wasn’t like the work hadn’t been done before. Great men like Charles Finney had discovered its evil core  and brought it to the church, but  the church soon forgot   the danger, choosing not to rile the Masons who ran their boards, paid their salaries, settling instead for  the ten shekels and the shirt they offered. For  the next century, lone pastors  would study it and bring out its darkness from the pulpit.  That usually resulted in the pastor being removed from that pulpit, his career usually  destroyed in the process and the preaching of the truth of the lodge  removed from the ears of the Masons in the church.

As you will see, Freemasonry and Christianity are as far from each other as the North and South poles.  His ignorance of the Luciferian roots and dark secrets of Freemasonry will be no excuse on that day of judgment for the man who calls himself a Christian Mason. Woe be unto him.

Well, Finney’s words are still the fire of truth and godly pastors are still speaking out in spite of the threats from the Masons and their the odious acts of  ignominy in defying the very Word of God.