Wigginsville Victory Tabernacle

And if Satan cast out Satan, he is divided against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand? (Matthew 12:26 KJV)


It’s unfathomable to think that I could have been under such severe mind control. When I look back at that part of my life, I stand in detestable awe of all that I did and believed. It’s almost impossible to explain the absurd nature of the beast that raped my mind and hung me out to dry. I think it’s safe to assume that the Illuminati (for lack of better words) is a very real and very wicked organization that is playing God, mocking Christ and stealing souls through unimaginable deception.

The spiritual mimicry incurred upon victims is the most powerful thing I’ve ever encountered. All those impossible coincidences throughout my life that I took as signs from God and the workings of The Holy Ghost were swallowed up and replaced by the dark presence that had suddenly inserted itself into my world. The problem was that it didn’t start out as a dark presence. It’s a difficult concept to explain, but, put simply, it is complete and total sabotage. When you are absolutely convinced that someone (or something) is inside your head and has access to all your inner thoughts, and who can hear all your prayers, how do you find God? How do you differentiate between God and that unknown source that seems to calculate and mirror your every move? How do you escape the butterfly net? During the height of my spiritual crisis (my programming), I figured the only way to find God was in church.

I attended services with a close family member in a little town called Wigginsville. The church was appropriately named Wigginsville Victory Tabernacle, appropriate indeed, because I was wiggin’. The pastor’s sermon focused on having choices and the gift of free will. At one point, he even made the comment, “can you imagine being a puppet on a string controlled by some puppet master? Imagine if someone knew your heart and could read every thought inside your head? Scary, right?” He then went on to preach that Satan can’t read your thoughts but God knows all, every strand of hair on your head, every thought that enters your brain – God knows your heart. I left services even more distressed and confused than before. They got to the preacher, I thought (whoever they were). They’re messing with me. They control absolutely everything. This is how the programming works. This is how it blinds the eye of the victim. I figured there was no way God could move in my life with such accuracy. I called my aunt later that day freaking out over the phone and complaining that someone was messing with me. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it was God?” My aunt asked. “You were in church after all.” I told her I had, but that she just didn’t understand. Weeks later, I found out that the family member with whom I attended church had prayed the night before asking for the pastor to deliver a message that I needed to hear, one that would help me weather the storm. Choices. Free will. The remedy is quite clear to me now.

God was in the process of delivering me out of Egypt, I just couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see the hand of God and gave all the credit to Satan and Pharaoh’s magicians. To this day, that evil net threatens to suck me back in; it is a constant struggle. The concept is difficult for me to understand let alone explain, but think of it like advertisements on the Internet that parrot whatever recent purchases you’ve made or websites you’ve visited. It’s like a plastic version of God, a veiled copycat, a dark forest without end, a spider web of deceit that leaves you trapped inside the matrix of the beast. It’s like a virus that hijacks your web browser and redirects your brain. It is a cloak-and-dagger thief.

This duplication is performed and carried out in the real world but goes unnoticed by everyone but the programmed victim. In their mind’s eye, every passing car, honking horn, or homeless derelict is somehow (or in some way) a message meant just for them. Everything falls into synch with their inner thoughts. Everything adds up in perfect timing; a perfect coincidence. Everything from a co-worker’s cough to the shutting of a neighbor’s door conforms to the victim’s circumstance. The material world mirrors their every thought. It is complete and total madness. Eventually though, God’s genuine light does shine through.

I attended church nearly every Sunday after that first sermon, and each time I went my situation improved just a little bit more. Each time I attended, the sermon seemed to be directed entirely at me. I listened intently as he preached against sin and reminded the congregation, “Not to worry about the left or the right, just concentrate on Jesus.” These words struck a chord in me. As I ventured into enemy territory I kept my focus squarely on Jesus–my saving grace.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist