Waco Quotes

There is no law so obscene that the police would not be willing to enforce it, up to and including the mass execution of innocent children." - Michael Malice on The Waco Siege, Twitter, 2021

Another [change] affects Chip and Joanna Gaines. This couple, who had reached unfathomable heights of popularity with their ‘Fixer Upper’ TV program in the 21st century, are instead homeless and living in a large cardboard box behind the Waco, Texas, bus station.” “That’s harsh,” said Eddie. “What did they do to deserve that?” “Nothing. It’s just one of those undesirable consequences that we could not avoid. It was either that or lose Australia.

In April 1933, Willie's mother, Myrle, gave birth to him in a manger somewhere along the old highway between Waco & Dallas. There were angels in attendance that night. Some of them, no doubt, flying too close to the ground:

The Elder is called Dee, first-born, of the Yarbrough lineage, whose landname is VaWaco.

We both hope, with all of our hearts, that the people who read this book and watch our show and come to see what we’re working on in Waco will take a chance to go after their dreams too. Because the key to everything Chip and I have learned in our life together so far seems to be pretty simple: Go and find what it is that inspires you, go and find what it is that you love, and go do that until it hurts. Don’t quit, and don’t give up. The reward is just around the corner. And in times of doubt or times of joy, listen for that still, small voice. Know that God has been there from the beginning--and he will be there until… The End.

Both David Koresh and Timothy McVeigh fell in the fight for freedom, the right of the Americans to be left alone.

Treat the earth well. It was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors, we borrow it from our Children. - Ancient Indian Proverb

settled for a blooming redhead from Waco, Takes-us, name of Molly Bea Archer, carefully cut her out of the pack and trundled her, tipsy and willing, back to the Busted Flush.

FBI slaughter of the innocents at Waco was a model Jacobin enterprise.

He had done it all, from barnstorming to crop dusting, and had even flown a Davis Waco with the Baby Ruth Flying Circus.

They might play Extinctathon, or one of the others. Three-Dimensional Waco, Barbarian Stomp, Kwiktime Osama. They all used parallel strategies: you had to see where you were headed before you got there, but

Gatesville is a small rural town near Waco with a population of fifteen thousand. Over half of that population are incarcerated in the town’s six prisons, all but one of which were built between 1980 and 2005, during which time the prison population in the United States grew an astounding six hundred percent, and in my home state of Texas, twelve hundred percent. Five of the Gatesville prisons are facilities for women.

He had done it all, from barnstorming to crop dusting, and had even flown a Davis Waco with the Baby Ruth Flying Circus. It was an advertising blitz unlike anything the country had ever seen. Billy would fly over county and state fairs, racetracks, and crowded beaches in his red and white plane, dropping hundreds of tiny rice paper parachutes—each one bearing a small Baby Ruth candy bar—on the crowds below.

What we learned from the Manson interview was later applied to the bureau’s dealing with other cults with charismatic and manipulative leaders, such as Reverend Jim Jones’s Peoples Temple in Guyana, David Koresh and the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas, and the Freemen militia movement in Montana. The outcome is not always as we would like it, but it is important to understand the personality of those we are dealing with so we can try to predict behavior.

The stack of her medical files that confronted me at the nurses’ station was about four feet high, taller than the shrunken little girl herself. Laura’s story, like that of the children of Waco, helped us learn more about how children respond to early experience. It illustrates how the mind and body cannot be treated separately, reveals what infants and young children need for healthy brain development and demonstrates how neglecting those needs can have a profound impact on every aspect of a child’s growth.

I couldn’t hide my sadness in Waco. Partly because the holidays always made me miss Sarah, especially when I was with her brother and parents. But I was also starting to feel detached from my real life, and seeing my extended family perform for the cameras made me realize how much I was playing a part. Nowadays, I see so many people performing their identities on social media, but I feel like I was a guinea pig for that. How was I supposed to live a real, healthy life filtered through the lens of a reality show? If my personal life was my work, and my work required me to play a certain role, who even was I anymore? I had no idea who I really was.

We’d be walking downtown, and I’d hear, “Chip. Hey, Chip!” and I’d turn to see a person approaching us who, frankly, might have scared me if I was walking downtown by myself. Chip wouldn’t be scared. He’d know the guy by name: “James! How’s it going, brother?” It seemed as if every homeless guy in Waco knew Chip Gaines. On the flip side, every banker in Waco knew Chip too. And he talked to those two very different groups of people the same way. There was never any difference in Chip’s demeanor. His enthusiasm for life and work and people was just infectious, and he surprised me with it again and again. At least once a day I caught myself thinking, Wow, this guy! Best of all, as happy as Chip Gaines was, he seemed happiest around me. I’m a generally happy person. My mom says I was a happy baby. But it’s a fact--I was always happiest around Jo. And I still am.

Feminist-dominated administrations in the United States have elevated child protection to a paramilitary operation. In 1993, US Attorney General Janet Reno used unsubstantiated child abuse rumors to launch military operations against American citizens in Waco, Texas, resulting in the deaths of 24 children that she was ostensibly protecting. The militarization of child protection was seen again in the largest seizure of children in American history, when almost five hundred children were seized from their polygamous parents in the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints without any evidence of abuse. “A night-time raid with tanks, riot police, SWAT teams, snipers, and cars full of Texas Rangers and sheriff’s deputies—that is the new face of state child protection,” writes attorney Gregory Hession, “social workers backed up with automatic weapons.

In Texas in May 1916, a black farm worker named Jesse Washington, accused of murdering the white woman he worked for, was lynched in front of the Waco city hall. Washington was not hanged. First he was castrated, then his fingers were cut off, then he was raised and lowered over a bonfire for two hours, until he finally died. His charred body was then dismembered, the torso dragged through the streets, and other parts of his body sold as souvenirs. It happened in broad daylight, in the middle of the day, as some 10,000 spectators watched, including local officials, police officers and children on their school lunch break. Photographs were taken of Washington’s carbonised body hanging above grinning white people and turned into postcards. That’s the reality of what being ‘one hundred per cent American’ and for ‘America first’ meant to a great many citizens of the United States in the first decades of the twentieth century.

Trip Advisor: Travel America with Haiku [Texas] Grackles roosting, sentinels on miles of phone line. Don't Mess with Texas. Austin rush hour, "Go down Mopac. You don't wanna mess with I-35." Athens, Texas, Blackeyed Pea Capital of the World. Yup, just another shithole. Killeen, Texas, Kill City, Boyz from Fort Hood. Spending every paycheck. Texas A&M;, Aggies football, the wired 12th man. Too lazy to plant in the Spring. Fredericksburg, Texas. Polka Capital of Texas but I could swear I saw Hitler there. Ft. Worth, Texas, Where the West Begins and a great place to leave. San Antonio, Texas, Fiesta! Alamo City! Northstar Mall! I've been to better tourist traps. Dallas, Texas, D-Town, City of Hate. Don't miss the Galleria. Lubbock, Texas, Oil wells, Hub of the Plains. Stinks like an armpit. Waco, Texas, The Buckle of the Bible Belt. Lossen it up a notch. Neck dragon tattoo, piercings, purple haired kindergarten teacher. Keep Austin weird.

Sometimes in history the name of God has been invoked on behalf of actions and movements that have ennobled the human soul and lifted the body politic to a higher plane. Take the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and the American civil rights movement, or Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the struggle against South African apartheid, as examples. Other times religious fervor has been employed for the worst kinds of sectarian and violent purposes. The Ku Klux Klan, the troubles in Northern Ireland, the wars in the former Yugoslavia, and David Koresh's Branch Davidian standoff in Waco, Texas, are frightening examples. Is there a reliable guide to when we are really hearing the voice of God, or just a self-interested or even quite ungodly voice in the language of heaven? I think there is. Who speaks for God? When the voice of God is invoked on behalf of those who have no voice, it is time to listen. But when the name of God is used to benefit the interests of those who are speaking, it is time to be very careful.

My great-grandmother read people’s fortunes and aligned her gardens with the stars. This was always said before a long, dramatic pause. Nana never wanted to talk about her. If I said anything about astrology or being a Cancer, my grandmother would go move quick to hush me. I heard different stories about my great-grandmother, cautionary tales about what could happen if you leaned in hard on that intuition. I don’t know the full story, but I also know that she was a card reader in Waco, Texas, at a time when that was not done. She was considered crazy by a lot of people in town. That buckle on the Bible Belt can come down hard and leave a mark. But I’d stare in the mirror at my brown eyes and high cheekbones, convinced I was Native American. More than that, we Simpson girls, my mother included, all seemed a little witchy. A nicer word would be intuitive. We had a good sense of people from the get-go and we often knew what was going to happen before it happened. Sometimes we chalked it up to our faith that God would provide, sometimes to just paying attention. But often it felt like we knew what was destined to be. Everything that happened in my life just felt preordained. Still does.

Chip asked me about New York and what I wanted to do, and how long my dad had owned the shop, and what it was I loved about Waco. He asked about my sisters and my family in general, and what I’d done at Baylor, and if I’d known a few communications majors he’d run around with at school. (I told y’all he was chatty!) Somehow none of these questions seemed intrusive or strange to me at the time, which is funny, because thinking back I find them particularly telling. At the time, it was just like talking with an old friend. John finally stood up, and this baseball-cap-wearing customer that John had introduced as Chip followed. “Well, nice talking to you,” he said. “Nice talking to you too,” I replied, and that was it. I went back inside. The guys in the shop wanted to know what I thought about Hot John, and I just laughed. “Sorry, guys, I don’t think it’s gonna work out.” The next day I came back from my lunch break to find a note on my desk: “Chip Gaines called. Call him back.” I thought, Oh, that must be the guy I met yesterday. So I called him. I honestly thought he was going to ask me about getting a better price on his brakes or something, but instead he said, “Hey, I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday. I was wondering…you want to go out sometime?” And for some reason I said okay--just like that, without any hesitation. It wasn’t like me at all. When I hung up the phone, I went, “What in the world just happened!” So you said okay immediately? I don’t even remember that. That’s fun! No reservations? Man, I must’ve been good-lookin’. What Chip didn’t know was I didn’t even give myself time to have reservations. Something told me to just go for it. Cute, Joey. This story makes me love you all over again.

Chip and I were both exhausted when we finally pulled up in front of that house, but we were still riding the glow of our honeymoon, and I was so excited as he carried me over the threshold--until the smell nearly knocked us over. “Oh my word,” I said, pinching my nose and trying to hold my breath so I wouldn’t gag. “What is that?” Chip flicked the light switch, and the light didn’t come on. He flicked it up and down a few times, then felt his way forward in the darkness and tried another switch. “The electricity’s off,” he said. “The girls must’ve had it shut off when they moved out.” “Didn’t you transfer it back into your name?” I asked. “I guess not. I’m sorry, babe,” Chip said. “Chip, what is that smell?” It was the middle of June in Waco, Texas. The temperature had been up over a hundred degrees for days on end, and the humidity was stifling, amplifying whatever that rotten smell was coming from the kitchen. Chip always carries a knife and a flashlight, and it sure came in handy that night. Chip made his way back there and found that the fridge still had a bunch of food left in it, including a bunch of ground beef that had just sat there rotting since whenever the electricity went out. The food was literally just smoldering in this hundred-degree house. So we went from living in a swanky hotel room on Park Avenue in New York City to this disgusting, humid stink of a place that felt more like the site of a crime scene than a home at this point. Honestly, I hadn’t thought it through very well. But it was late, and we were tired, and I just focused on making the most of this awful situation. So we opened some windows and brought our bags in, and I told Jo we’d just tough it out and sleep on the floor and clean it all up in the morning. That’s when she started crying. I lay down on the floor thinking, Is his what my life is going to look like now that I married Chip? Is this my new normal? That’s when another smell hit me. It was in the carpet. “Chip, did those girls have a dog here?” I asked. “They had a couple of dogs,” he answered. “Why?” You could smell it. In the carpet. It was nasty. I was just lying there with my head next to some old dog urine stain that had been heated by the Texas summer heat. It was like microwaved dog pee. It was. It was awful. It was three in the morning. And I finally said, “Chip, I’m not sleeping in this house.

Jason leaned back against the cool wall, remembering the look of sadness on the other agent’s face whenever he spoke of Waco.

We can’t afford another disaster like the early ‘90’s screw-up at Waco. My investors wouldn’t be too pleased since it would end up being a PR disaster for us, and we can’t have that. Better to rid ourselves of those religious freaks slowly, nobody’ll notice the small churches and their old folks missing if we start with them first. David, you should also get the Health Administration to finally round up all of those old people in healthcare facilities who don’t contribute to our society and are nothing but eaters. Didn’t some moron in the opposition refer to it as ‘Death Panels’ a couple decades ago?” Collins caught the reference, laughed, and said, “Yeah, and the media buried her for saying it. Too bad I was too young to appreciate the supposed next savior of the Conservative moment being destroyed. Your grandfather did an excellent job,

Better yet, if I had paid Waco his money instead of thinking I could get over on him, I wouldn’t be in this position. My actions lately have cost me dearly.

Waco, Texas Haiku Buckle of the Bible Belt. Please loosen it up a notch. Your love's strangling me.

In Waco, once best known for the Branch Davidian standoff between David Koresh and the ATF, Chip and Joanna have created a new cult, one of affordable design.

THE EVENT WAS A FAMOUS ONE, I would later learn—like Wounded Knee or Waco—but when my father first told us the story, it felt like no one in the world knew about it except us.

Many of those who left described their departure as if they had escaped Jonestown or Waco; those who remained were simply hopeful the company’s IPO would arrive soon so they could cash out and move on.

Extremists who believe that the federal government deliberately murdered people at Ruby Ridge and Waco, and that door-to-door gun confiscation could begin any day.

Jess Moody, A Drink at Joel’s Place (Waco, TX: Word Books, 1967), 80–81. The Claims of the Christ JOHN 5:19-30 NASB 19 Therefore Jesus answered and was saying to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of Himself, unless it is something He sees the Father doing; for whatever [a]the Father does, these things the Son also does in like manner. 20 For the Father loves the Son, and shows Him all things that He Himself is doing; and the Father will show Him greater works than these, so that you will marvel. 21 For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even

Getting his job as president of Morgan Stanley had been a struggle, and Mack was there to stay. Years earlier, he had ousted former president Robert Greenhill in a palace coup while Greenhill was on the ski slopes entertaining clients. Greenhill had not been a pushover; his tightly knit group of loyalists had earned the nickname Branch Davidians. Nevertheless, after a bitter contest, Mack had won, and Greenhill’s group, like the Waco, Texas, cult, was out. Mack was a charismatic leader, charming as well as intimidating. One Morgan Stanley manager described him as “the best salesman I’ve ever seen.” He scheduled informal lunches with all of the lowest-level employees at Morgan Stanley, in groups. His office had two glass canisters filled with candies and a gumball machine, to encourage colleagues to stop by and chat. Mack was worshipped for his patriotic addresses to the firm as well as his inspiring locker-room pep talks. Even the most hard-hearted of Morgan Stanley’s managers were moved by Mack’s most stirring speeches. He had given many of them goosebumps, and even made a few cry. Mack seemed adept enough to resolve just about any conflict. When the trustees of socialite Doris Duke’s $1.2 billion estate needed someone to step in and settle the brawl over her estate, including accusations of murder, whom did they ask? John Mack.

To this day, I don’t know whether he actually read the advance copy of The Right to Bear Arms I sent him—but more than a quarter of a century later, he announced that the first rally of his 2024 presidential campaign would be held in a familiar location: Waco, Texas.

Religion is a constitutionally protected category . . . and the identification of Waco’s Branch Davidians as a cult places them outside the protections of the state,

At the end of a lousy decade—Waco, Ruby Ridge, the crime lab scandal, the Boston mafia fiasco—the FBI was eager for any positive publicity.

Chip asked me about New York and what I wanted to do, and how long my dad had owned the shop, and what it was I loved about Waco. He asked about my sisters and my family in general, and what I’d done at Baylor, and if I’d known a few communications majors he’d run around with at school. (I told y’all he was chatty!) Somehow none of these questions seemed intrusive or strange to me at the time, which is funny, because thinking back I find them particularly telling. At the time, it was just like talking with an old friend. John finally stood up, and this baseball-cap-wearing customer that John had introduced as Chip followed. “Well, nice talking to you,” he said. “Nice talking to you too,” I replied, and that was it. I went back inside. The guys in the shop wanted to know what I thought about Hot John, and I just laughed. “Sorry, guys, I don’t think it’s gonna work out.

By the time Chip and I met, he’d managed to combine these two conflicting sides of himself: the kid who steered clear of trouble and did the right thing, and the kid who rode his Big Wheel full speed into the street without looking both ways. I had never met anyone like him. It’s funny to me to think that the whole opposites-attract thing might have been programmed into my DNA. Just as my outgoing mother was drawn to my quiet dad, I was this shy girl drawn to the super-outgoing Chip Gaines. And the fact that he owned a successful lawn and irrigation business and had made up his mind that he loved Waco and wanted to stay put was somehow a perfect fit with everything I knew I wanted myself.

When we listen to one another, we heal and learn. When we condemn and vilify one another, at best we lose the ability to grow; at worst, people get hurt.

But, as the conflict-studies scholar Jayne Docherty argues, the F.B.I.’s approach was doomed from the outset. In “Learning Lessons from Waco”—one of the very best of the Mount Carmel retrospectives—Docherty points out that the techniques that work on bank robbers don’t work on committed believers. There was no pragmatism hidden below a layer of posturing, lies, and grandiosity. Docherty uses Max Weber’s typology to describe the Davidians. They were “value-rational”—that is to say, their rationality was organized around values, not goals. A value-rational person would accept his fourteen-year-old daughter’s polygamous marriage, if he was convinced that it was in fulfillment of Biblical prophecy. Because the F.B.I. could not take the faith of the Branch Davidians seriously, it had no meaningful way to communicate with them:

Tabor later said that most agents believed that the Seven Seals were “seagoing creatures with whiskers” and did not care to learn even the basics of the theology.

Human history is rife with examples of inconceivable violence, and as Americans, we like to think of our country as being far beyond the guillotines of medieval Europe or the reign of the Huns. And yet it was here that "Native Americans were occasionally skinned and made into bridle reins," wrote the scholar Charles Mills. Andrew Jackson, the U.S. president who oversaw the forced removal of indigenous people from their ancestral homelands during the Trails of Tears, used bridle reins of indigenous flesh when he went horseback riding. And it was here that, into the 20th century, African-Americans were burned alive at the stake, as 17 year old Jesse Washington was in Waco, Texas, in 1916 before a crowd of thousands.

In this holy war, I write as a war correspondent, awash in a deluge of propaganda from both sides. I have tried to gather the most accurate information available on the actual effects of various drugs on sexual drive and sexual performance. Since we are concerned here with a theological and legal conflict as well as a scientific field for investigation, there is little consensus. Trying to find out what a drug really does to the human mind and body, in America today, is like trying to find out who shot first at Waco or Ruby Ridge. “Only God knows for sure, and He isn’t telling.” All that the objective reporter can do, then, is to print the claims of both sides and let the reader decide for himself who can be trusted.

It must be said that the intended use of CS gas also troubled Janet Reno. Carl Stern, director of the Justice Department’s public-affairs office, sent word to Reno that he was worried that there might be a public outcry over the use of tear gas on women and children, comparing it to Saddam Hussein’s gassing of the Kurds in Iraq. But a U.S. Army toxicologist she consulted unaccountably assured her that the gas would “cause temporary distress but no lasting damage.” And in the rush of events climaxing during that second week of April, Reno later admitted that she hadn’t known then that the United States was a signatory to the international convention banning the use of CS gas in warfare.

Some people framed the lynching photographs with locks of the victim’s hair under glass if they had been able to secure any. One spectator wrote on the back of his postcard from Waco, Texas, in 1916: “This is the Barbecue we had last night my picture is to the left with the cross over it your son Joe.” This was singularly American. “Even the Nazis did not stoop to selling souvenirs of Auschwitz,” wrote Time magazine many years later. Lynching postcards were so common a form of communication in turn-of-the-twentieth-century America that lynching scenes “became a burgeoning subdepartment of the postcard industry.

Her “bailiff” was named Waco. He was a retired stand-up comic. Yes, for real. This was a TV set, not a courtroom, though it looked like one. While not exactly a trial, Hester did preside over a legal proceeding of a certain kind. The two parties sign a contract for arbitration. The producers pay the settlement, and both the plaintiff and the defendant are paid a hundred dollars a day. It’s win-win

Fifteen thousand men, women, and children gathered to watch eighteen-year-old Jesse Washington as he was burned alive in Waco, Texas, in May 1916. The crowd chanted, “Burn, burn, burn!” as Washington was lowered into the flames. One father holding his son on his shoulders wanted to make sure his toddler saw it.

Typically, “letting my hair down” meant that I would sit in front of the television and binge-watch HGTV for hours at a time. Many a weekend since the divorce had been spent this way. My obsession with Chip and Joanna Gaines had reached epic proportions by now. To the point that I seriously contemplated moving to Waco, Tx before settling on New York.

Yet he appeared to be a year or two older than that. She sat down on the stool next to Syn. “Out of curiosity, why are you keeping me here?” It was against military protocol. In the past, whenever her father had “protected” her, she’d been moved to a safe location. Nykyrian took a drink of his juice before he answered. “When you’re being hunted to the extent you are, there’s no real safe place. You’re famous, which makes it all the harder to hide you. Better to keep you here where you have the advantage of knowing the terrain and are most comfortable.” “Not to mention, we’re using you for bait.” Nykyrian cocked his head at Syn. “Are you that drunk?” Syn’s eyes widened. “What? I wasn’t supposed to tell her that?” Kiara was horrified. “I’m bait?” “No, you’re not bait. Ignore the alcoholic whose view of reality is distorted by his brain-damaged hallucinations. What the psychologists have found is that people in your position cope best when there’s as little interruption as possible in their routine.” Kiara swallowed. “Not to mention we both know the one truth neither of you is talking about.” “And that is?” “That I’m really nothing more than a waco.” It was an assassin’s term that meant walking corpse. “I’m not going to live through the night, am I?

Conceive this nation, of all human peoples, engaged in a crusade to make the "World Safe for Democracy"! Can you imagine the United States protesting against Turkish atrocities in Armenia, while the Turks are silent about mobs in Chicago and St. Louis; what is Louvain compared with Memphis, Waco, Washington, Dyersburg, and Estill Springs? In short, what is the black man but America's Belgium, and how could America condemn in Germany that which she commits, just as brutally, within her own borders?

We got stiffed on the gig and drove back to Waco in silence. The sun was coming up over the Brazos when we got back to campus. That was the end of my career with Ramsey Horton and the K-otics, but I had learned his Floyd Cramer licks, without which I would not have known what to play on the Rolling Stones’ session in Muscle Shoals.

We came from many different places, had many different pasts, belonged to a variety of races and nationalities; but under the boiling summer sun, when shade temperatures often reached the century mark, the heat beating our backs like hammer until I felt like a nail myself, we were brothers sharing sweat, building our own Jerusalem in a desolate place.

It won't always be wonderful. It depends on your state of grace.

...Besides, he felt it was good policy to let some of the locals see where we lived and find out for themselves that we weren't just a bunch of crazies.

I didn't want to be responsible for Alisa; I had a hard enough time being responsible for myself.

But where's it leading you?' he asked. 'To where I have to go,' I replied.

Everything American in me was stunned by the possibility that my own government might wipe us out. Where's Paul Revere when we need him? I thought childishly. Where are the Minute Men who should stand by our side?

Otherwise, everything I'd ever felt about this great country was a crock of shit.

It was clear that being mentally prepared to die was not quite the same as staring death in the face.

With my nose buried in the floorboards, I reflected that, in such situations, there are three kinds of people: those who stand in front of a tank and dare it to run over them, like the guy in Tiananmen Square; those who make brave speeches behind the barricades, like the students in Paris in 1968; and those, like me, who chew dirt.

I knew I would never be able to explain myself in the language of faith, a tongue I was still fumbling with.

...Even if you totally believe in something, there's always an element of doubt.

...Two struggling musicians, always broke, forever hopeful.

I must admit I hadn't realized my knees were so sexy.

Bonhoeffer, D. Discipleship. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works 4. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996. Allison, D. C. J. The Sermon on the Mount: Inspiring the Moral Imagination. New York: Herder, 1999. Talbert, C. H. Reading the Sermon on the Mount: Character Formation and Decision Making in Matthew 5–7. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004. Guelich, R. A. The Sermon on the Mount: A Foundation for Understanding. Waco, TX: Word, 1982. Lapide, P. The Sermon on the Mount: Utopia or Program for Action? Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1986. Greenman, J. P., T. Larsen, and S. R. Spencer, eds. The Sermon on the Mount through the Centuries: From the Early Church to John Paul II. Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2007.

The dehumanization of those inside Mt. Carmel, coupled with the thoroughgoing demonization of Koresh, made it easier for those in authority to develop tactics that seemed organized for disaster.

In today's media-saturated climate, the word "cult" is an instant road sign for the audience: WARNING: WEIRDOS AHEAD.

Sadly, the now-accepted, international church forgot that it, too, was once considered a mere cult.

History suggests that a cult graduates into a church if it outlives its founders.

Having been tagged a "cult" by the government and the media, we became fair game, removed beyond the bounds of common sympathy.

Whether anyone believed it or not, David felt he had to wait on God's word, and that Old Guy in the Sky takes his own, sweet time.

For the first month of the siege FBI commanders had isolated us from all contact with the outside world in order to preserve the official view that we were dangerously weird.

It was as if he'd arrived at the center of himself after a long journey through the wilderness of his own soul.

In January 1993 the United States and 130 other countries had signed the Chemical Weapons Convention banning the use of CS gas in warfare; apparently there is no prohibition on its use against American citizens.

Our agony was the government's triumph.

If they thought we were a bunch of crazies, why did they drive us to the limit?

They didn't believe me," I exclaimed when I saw Gary. "I told the truth, but they didn't want to hear!

All my life I'd wanted to be special, and for a while I was, sharing David's spirit. Now I'd have to find a way to be special in my own right.

Fear is a cruel master. It is not, however, unconquerable.

Silence is a form of consent, and I just couldn't let the evil popular picture of David and our community stand without trying to combat it.

I was eternally earthbound, a witness but no prophet.

For a while I saw myself as an outcast from an America that had always been mine.

came to think of God as more of a gracious friend who was accompanying me on this journey, a friend who wanted to carry my burdens and speak into my life and shape me into who I really was and who I would become. When I came back to Waco, I had a very