Broken Faith - Inside the Word of Faith Fellowship, One of America's Most Dangerous Cults - Mitch Weiss Page 0,9

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He listened intently when Jane Whaley and the other ministers spelled out the tactics for the “spiritual warfare” that Christians must wage each day. She cited 1 Peter 5:8: “Discipline yourselves, be alert! Like a roaring lion, that adversary of yours, the devil, prowls around, looking for someone to devour.”

Whaley named the demons: ask too many questions and you had the “sneaky devil.” Spend too much time following sports and you’d invite the “soccer devil.” Effeminate mannerisms meant the “homosexual demon.” Erotic or lustful thoughts meant you had succumbed to the worst demon of all, the “unclean devil,” which could even take hold of children. Pubescent boys were tormented by erections, which Whaley called a “manifestation of their bodies,” a shameful failing that required repentance.

Word of Faith used several Bible verses to justify the exorcism of demons, including Matthew 9:32–33: “Behold, a dumb man under the power of a demon was brought to Jesus. And when the demon was driven out, the dumb man spoke; and the crowds were stunned with bewildered wonder, saying, Never before has anything like this been seen in Israel.”

A few months after they arrived, a minister pulled Rick aside and told him, “Rick, you’re full of the unclean devil and need prayer.”

Rick couldn’t think of anything he had done that would qualify as “unclean.” But he listened to the minister. It was his turn to be blasted.

He sat in a chair and closed his eyes as a dozen people encircled him. They laid their hands on his head, shoulders, and arms, and called on the demon to go, shrieking, “Come out, devil, in the name of Jesus!” Some of them leaned in, their faces so close he could feel the heat of their breath and the spray of their saliva. Their hands squeezed down; they gibbered in nonsense syllables, speaking in tongues. Rick squeezed shut his eyes and held his breath, tamping down the fury that rose up in his gut. In the old days, nobody would have screamed in Rick’s face like that—not without consequences. The old Rick Cooper would have knocked them all on their asses.

He used every technique he knew to keep the old Rick in check: the promise he’d made to Jesus to never fight again, thoughts of his children fitting in and earning good grades at the Word of Faith Christian School, thoughts of his job and all the friendly new people he’d met in Sunday school. If this was the price to pay for all those good things...he’d absorb it, like Jesus did as He carried His cross along the Via Dolorosa.

His first blasting session had a profound impact. Afterward, Rick accepted the church’s doctrine without question. He began calling Jane Whaley “Mother” like her other followers did. Rick accepted whatever punishment the church meted out. He found it easy to help discipline other believers. He thought he might soon join the ranks of the ministers himself.

But first, he had to deal with his wayward mother, Cora. He knew she was playing the sweepstakes. In Rick’s mind, it was gambling.

Rick drove home in a fury and stormed into the house. Cora sat at the kitchen table, reading a magazine.

“Ma, do you know what it’s like to burn?” he said, a little too loud. “What do you think hell is going to be like if you don’t repent of this?” He slammed his hand down on the table. “Is that what you want, Ma? To burn in hell?”

Cora sat in silence. Suzanne ran into the room. She knew the look on her husband’s face. “Rick, please,” she said. “We have children in the house.”

Cora wasn’t one to take abuse quietly. She was only a shade over five feet two inches tall and thin as a rail, but she was tough. “Who do you think you are?” she snapped. “What gives you the right to say these things to me in my own house?”

The drama was getting too much for Suzanne to handle, especially with the new baby added into the equation. She had learned many of the Cooper family’s dark secrets in the past few months. Rick had painted his mother, father, sister, and relatives as devout Christians. But Suzanne had heard disturbing stories of violence, infidelity.

“You’re my mother, but you’re a harlot,” Rick shouted, a common word in Whaley’s lexicon. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to save you?”

But Cora cut him off: “Jesus is my savior, not you. Go save your own damn self.”

* * *

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