We were systematically abused, physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually, from the earliest age. We were separated from each other and our parents and raised communally in this organization, which was also known as the ‘Family’.
Unlike our parents who had burned their bridges and left their former lives, we were never given a choice over the paths our lives would follow. Isolated from society, we were controlled by fear – fear of the government, police, doctors and social workers, and the even greater fear of God’s wrath if we ever left the protection of the Family.
Our childhood was dominated by one man: David Berg – a man we never met, but who was like an invisible ghost that was with us at all times. He was the warped and manipulative force behind the Children of God. David Berg liked to see himself as a benevolent parental figure, and called us, his followers, the ‘Children of David’. He saw himself as the successor of King David and the Prophet Moses – calling himself Moses David, or Mo for short. The children were taught to call him ‘Grandpa’. He was the head of our family, the prophet, the leader, our ‘light in the midst of darkness’. The rules we followed were dictated by his words. We read about every detail of his life, his dreams, his likes and dislikes, and the women he slept with and the children he abused. From a very young age we memorized his words and hours of every day were dedicated to studying his writings, called Mo Letters. ‘Word Time’ – which was the time spent reading these letters and studying the Bible – was an important part of daily life. It would be difficult if not impossible to write about our life without acknowledging the dominating influence of David Berg on our lives.
From birth, we were conditioned to obey and follow the way of the cult. We had no choice, and knew no other way. We never heard our father express an opinion that was his own; it was always, ‘Grandpa said…’ If we were punished it was because we had disobeyed Mo’s rules; if we were rewarded it was because we were ‘faithful followers’. Our father’s devotion to Berg and faith in his prophecies and predictions was unwavering. If he questioned if any of it was real, or if it was a chimera – smoke and mirrors – he never showed it, not even behind closed doors.
Berg taught that birth control was rebellion against God, so within a few years there were thousands of children born into the group. He boasted that we were the ‘hope of the future’ – a pure second generation untainted by the outside world. We were told it was the highest privilege to be born and raised in the Family, free from the shackles of the ‘System’, as the outside world was called. It was our destiny to become God’s Endtime soldiers, and to give our lives for the cause. Berg predicted the world would end in 1993, and we would become the leaders of the New Millennium. As our lives on earth would be short, we were never allowed to just be children. Our individuality was suppressed, and we were simply commodities used to further the collective goals of the group.
The belief that damaged us the most was Berg’s ‘Law of Love’. God was love, and love equalled sex. Sharing your body with someone else was considered the highest expression of love. Age was not a barrier in Berg’s Law of Love and Family children were made to participate in his warped, paedophilic philosophy. His own children and grandchildren suffered from his incestuous predilections.
In this book we describe the emotional journey we undertook from our earliest years, through to our teens when we secretly, then more openly questioned it – and finally, when we struggled to break free, like butterflies caught in a spider’s sticky web. This is a story of darkness and light, of imprisonment of the soul, of redemption and freedom. We survived – many didn’t. Thousands of the Family’s second generation have had to deal with the devastating consequences of their parents’ blind faith in a leader who claimed he was the voice of God on earth. Those who have bravely spoken out about their suffering have been vilified and slandered by their former abusers. Our hope is that in telling our story, you will hear the voices of the children they tried to silence.
Celeste Jones, Kristina Jones, Juliana Buhring
England 2007
CHAPTER ONE Daddy’s Little Girl
I was playing alone in the front garden of a white house near the small fishing village of Rafina, in Greece. Our garden had three olive trees, as well as an apricot, fig and peach, all ripe with fruit. I sat under a large, old pine tree that cast deep pools of shade. The ground was bleached and bone dry from the sun, and I amused myself by drawing pictures on the parched earth with a white rock. I was five years old.
I had little recollection of my mother, only a brief memory of her playing guitar and singing, ‘Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so’, as I played with my little sister Kristina on a bunk bed in a small room in another land. But I was fiercely loyal to Mum and talked about her every day, even though I had not seen her for two years. I still missed her and my sister, and barely remembered my baby brother David. I clung desperately to the hope that Mum would come back. Like a record that never stopped spinning, I’d repeatedly ask my dad, ‘Why did she leave us?’
Dad would hug me and explain. ‘Mum decided to be with someone else, and I couldn’t let you go. You were the oldest, and we’ve always been close, haven’t we?’
I nodded. I loved Dad just as much as my mum, but I thought it was unfair to have to make a choice between them.
‘What about Kristina and David?’ I asked.
‘They were too young. They still needed to be with their mother.’
Dad worked long hours in a makeshift recording studio set up in the basement of our house, producing and acting as DJ on a radio show, Music with Meaning. Because of this I had a nanny, Serena, a young German woman. I resented her, and made life as difficult as I could for her by not cooperating or even acknowledging her. Serena had long, straight dark hair and brown eyes magnified by a pair of thick glasses. Poor Serena. Whatever she did to try to win me round, I was determined not to like her. I thought her German accent sounded funny, and she was constantly trying to give me wheatgerm with unsweetened yoghurt and spoonfuls of cod liver oil, which I hated the smell and taste of.
We belonged to the Children of God, a deeply secretive and religious organization with tentacles that spread across the world. The leader and prophet was named David Berg. We knew him as Moses David; my Dad called him Mo, and I knew him as our ‘Grandpa’. He ordained everything we said, did, thought and even dreamed. Everything in our lives, even the smallest and most insignificant detail – including the food we ate – was regulated by Mo. He had said that our diet should consist of healthy food and no white sugar, and Serena enthusiastically embraced Mo’s healthy eating policy. ‘It will give you strong bones and teeth,’ she would tell me – but it didn’t make it taste any better. She was never cruel, but she was strict, and I saw her as an unwelcome intrusion into my life. Originally, Dad had told me she would be staying for three months, and I had been counting the days until she left.
That sunny day as I played under the pine tree, I glanced up to see Dad and Serena walk out on to the front veranda. They were standing very close together and, instantly, I sensed a kind of electricity between them.
‘Honey, I have something exciting to tell you,’ my father called to me. As he spoke, my tall, handsome Dad, whom I adored more than anybody in the world, turned and embraced Serena.
As I walked towards them, I noticed their