Coming Home: My Testimony, Part 2

(This is the second of a four-part article)

Depression and suicide bids

As I said, a poor self-image, a life being destroyed by drugs, a few cases of unrequited love, and I was pretty depressed for much of this time. I was not much fun to be around – just so often bummed out and miserable. And with the Vietnam War on in full swing, and the national draft in action, that just added to my depression and paranoia.

Some of us were devising plans to escape the draft should we get called into the military, so we were making elaborate plans to escape to Canada, or to fake our own deaths. Needless to say, we all hated what we called the military-industrial complex, all wars, all governments, and all militaries. We just wanted to give peace a chance.

And of course psychedelic drugs like LSD did not really help things much. What they did was this: they simply amplified and magnified a million times over whatever state or condition you were already in. So if you were bummed out and on a real downer, you got massive bummers and mega-downers when on these mind-altering drugs.

All my reading and searching and seeking were getting me nowhere. Radical leftist politics were certainly not filling the huge void in my life. The eastern religions and philosophies and related psychic ideas may have sounded good in theory but just did not deal with my reality.

All the man-centred and humanistic philosophies, spiritualities, worldviews and psychotherapies which I had feasted upon were not doing anything to turn my life around or keep it from completely spinning out of control. And I never did find God like Leary said I would if I ate a lot of LSD.

Bill 1971 1 picI did find a lot of spiritual realities however. Looking back now I can clearly see that I had plenty of very real encounters with the demonic and the very dark side of the spirit world. Satan and his minions were having a field day with us hippies, and the more drugs we took, the more power and control they had over us.

So it was an extremely black and desperate period in my life. There was no light at the end of the tunnel – only darkness everywhere, and a darkness which was getting even darker. All in all I was one very messed up kid, and suicide became a real option. Thus on several occasions I attempted it – even if they were rather half-hearted attempts. But one such attempt I will never forget.

I was alone as usual, in the downstairs of my parents’ two-story house. They lived upstairs and I had the entire downstairs to myself. Once again crushed with overwhelming despair and depression, I grabbed the kitchen knife, mustering up the courage to end it all.

I was pretty serious this time, and as I was in the very midst of all this insanity, suddenly something happened. There was another person in the room. As clear as day I knew there was someone in the room. And for some reason I knew exactly who it was – it was Jesus.

He was not there very long, and I don’t recall anything being said by him. But he stayed long enough to complete his task. I of course put the knife down and thoughts of suicide fled away. Jesus had once again saved me, as he had undoubtedly done so many times before – whether when I was on a bad acid trip or in some other bad place. He saved my life that night – at least physically speaking. And soon he was to save my life spiritually speaking as well.

Gospel light

So here I was – a totally bummed out, messed up kid, working in a plastics factory. I was depressed, suicidal, a no-hoper, utterly miserable, and a complete prodigal son. Two months out of high school, depressed with no future and no hope, suicidal and quite lost: I was open for the gospel.

The actual date for the beginning of all this was, I believe, August 15, 1971. I was due to go to Milwaukee in a day or two for another rock concert – I believe it was Alvin Lee and Ten Years After plus another group. Earlier in the day I had a friend drive me to Madison to score a few more albums. Drugs and albums were about the only things I spent money on (although I did steal a number of records, and got caught at least once).

I got three albums that day. I can recall at least two of them: The Moody Blues’ Every Good Boy Deserves Favour and an album by Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks. I forget the third, but I never did get to listen to them. When I got back to Sheboygan I was bicycling to a friend’s house with my new albums and a just-scored bag of psilocybin, when I got interrupted.

Cheryl, a hippy girl that I had known well, was with a few others, driving down the street in the opposite direction. I pulled over and had a chat – and that was the beginning of the end for me. It was the rather unexpected and unplanned – on my part – end of my old life. And it was the start of a new life in Christ – albeit a rather circuitous one with many detours and false paths.

She had just got back from a Christian commune in the mountains of New Mexico. She was telling everyone about Jesus and her new life in Christ. She was certainly excited and radiant. She seemed to be a new person, and wanted everyone to discover what she had.

She was more than happy to tell me all about her story and her Jesus. It was all pretty basic and simple stuff really, like how Jesus cares for the birds in the trees, knows the number of hairs on your head, and does not allow a sparrow to fall to the ground without him knowing about it.

All very appealing stuff to a hippy – you know: don’t panic, it’s organic. She spoke about how the birds were really praising God when they were chirping away, and how all our desires and yearnings are satisfied in Jesus. Down-to-earth stuff, but certainly music to my desperate ears and empty soul.

I knew she was right and I had to get on board. I knew I had to go back to New Mexico with her; and I guess I was her only convert at the time. I knew if I went home that night I would get sidetracked and put off, so we both slept over at a friend’s house that night, so I would not be tempted to forget all that I heard.

The next morning we went to another friend’s place, where I tiptoed over the sleeping bodies on the floor, and grabbed my sleeping bag. We were off – hitchhiking the 1350 miles or so to Taos. As we hitched our way through Madison where my brother lived I gave him a quick call on a pay phone saying I was leaving. That was all my family heard from me for some time.

The journey was an adventure in itself, and we easily could never have made it. But we did, and my new life in Christ then started in earnest. And on the way I was reading all I could of a small pocket Gideon’s New Testament and Psalms. It was the first time I had really earnestly and seriously read the Bible.


So there I was, in a rough and tumble dwelling in the country side, a mile or two out of Taos, near to the famous Taos Indian Pueblo. The mountains, the deserts, and the fragrant sagebrush were part of my new home. The property we were I suppose squatting on consisted of a dumpy old building with no running water or electricity – of course.

It was a very rustic and rough commune where a bunch of impressionable and enthusiastic young Americans made the best of a rather harsh environment. But we were mostly all hippies, so we were used to things like this – living on the streets, sleeping under bridges, digging for food in garbage dumps, living off the land, etc.

Eventually we constructed by hand a mud brick adobe dwelling, half underground. Anywhere from 5 to 25 people lived on the ranch at a given time I suppose. Lots of people were coming and going, and we had lots of visitors, or people we brought back after witnessing to them in town or elsewhere. Some stayed on, some were repulsed by what they saw, and many heard at least a type of the gospel message.

But that was the problem unfortunately. This was actually a cult. If you are familiar with the Charles Manson cult, also from around that time, you get a bit of an idea what I had gotten myself in for. We did not kill anyone as they had done, but I suppose we might have, if we were told to do so.

The place was led by a Manson-like cult figure. His name was Ty-a-coomb (that was his “spirit” name. We all got one eventually as well – mine was Keethloo which meant “pretty sounds” – I did play some guitar then). He was one of those very strong charismatic personalities, and he called the shots, and we pretty much unquestionably did what he told us to do.

So here I was: my first real exposure to some sort of Christianity and I landed in a cult! My first day there was interesting to say the least. Three radical things stand out. One, a bad interpretation of Scripture – specifically a passage like 2 Corinthians 5:7 which says “we walk by faith, not by sight” – led to some radical first steps.

This text obviously meant we see by faith and walk in the Spirit, and need not worry about mere physical sight. So my first task was to take a hammer or a rock and smash my glasses to bits. That I promptly did, and I spent the next five months or so stumbling around the mountains of New Mexico, even getting lost once or twice.

You see I have long had terrible eyesight, so this certainly was jumping in the deep end on day one – a real step of faith indeed. But I was ready to do anything in my newfound faith, and so this seemed reasonable to me at the time.

Two, given the hippy/Indian/cult nature of this group, we often got back to nature in more ways than one – including running around with no clothes on, at least on our own land – which got us in trouble with the New Mexico police on more than one occasion, including stints in jail.

Related to this, we reminded folks that Galatians 5:16 tells us that we walk in the Spirit, not in the flesh. That was our explanation when asked why we walked around shoeless in the ice and snow for example. We had homemade looms and we did weaving which we learned from the Indians, so we made belts and related products, and sold them to outsiders to get a bit of cash.

In the winters we would go to fancy ski resorts in the nearby mountains where all these rich skiers and tourists would hang around at. We sold them our weavings, and they were amazed as we walked about barefoot up there in the snow-covered mountains.

And three, I had been a vegetarian for maybe 18 months up to this point: partly for perceived spiritual reasons, partly for perceived health reasons. That could be problematic at times. As any dope-smoker knows, you sure can get the munchies, so we often would seek out some junk foods, such as something like cream-filled chocolate éclairs at a local bakery.

I did not even eat any eggs or egg products – believing that would mean I was taking other life. So it was not just meat I abstained from. Anyway, in our drugged out condition, I would ask my hippy buddies: “are you sure there are no eggs in these?” They assured me there weren’t any, so I enjoyed the éclair – only to learn much later that they were telling me porkies. Oh well, they were pretty tasty at the time, even if they were made with eggs.

But I digress. When I got to Taos they quoted Bible verses such as 1 Timothy 4:3-4 which speaks about all foods are to be eaten with thanksgiving. Sounded OK to me, so I had some chicken that night – the first time in a year and a half any meat entered my mouth. So in that they were actually not cultish.

But they sure were in other ways, including using those same verses in a quite inappropriate manner: to justify using drugs! The line of thought was that drugs are natural, and God in Genesis 1:11-13 spoke about giving mankind all manner of plants and vegetation – so we figured that meant to eat as well as get high on!

Part 3 is here:

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15 Replies to “Coming Home: My Testimony, Part 2”

  1. Crikey, Bill! Hahaha! No wonder u occasionally display a mild dose of angst when u converse with some of the all-knowing, open-minded, greener and loopier types! Haha!

    Trevor Faggotter

  2. A stink’n good read, Bill. Love your choice of music, especially the Moody Blues; I still like the overall sound of Led Zep and all the others you mentioned, even though some of the lyrics I didn’t really listen closely to for twenty years or so. It’s a shame a lot of it’s Satan influenced & literally dedicated to him.
    Grant Squelch

  3. Gday Bill
    As you can expect I’m enjoying this story immensely, and thinking about whom I can pass it to. Just at this time it’s actually “music to my ears” and water to my thirsty soul. Have been feeling the need for a good laugh. The story about smashing your glasses so that you could walk by faith & not by sight cracked me up big time. I did a few things like that back then.
    I think this could be your next book.
    Terry Darmody

  4. You are most courageous to tell us all this historic stuff.
    I am reading your four part testimony in daily installments.
    This comment is only on the first two. No doubt this is the part you would rather have stored in you memory banks.
    But really Bill, it is so good that you tell us this, makes us evaluate our own testimony and how it was that the Lord never let go of us, no matter how far down we were on the slippery slope. I picked up the fact that a pocket size Gideon bible became the primary reference point for your return to faith. The Australian Gideons would love to have you onboard for one of their national conferences.
    Looking forward to the next installment.
    Bill Heggers, Perth

  5. Could one say, Bill, that you are not a creature of the Comfort Zone?

    David Skinner, UK

  6. I can definitely relate to much of your history, Bill. And, I must say, you sure were an adventurous sort—taking off to go to an unknown destination on a moment’s notice. Other than that, your story is familiar.

  7. Hello Bill, Yes, I remember these days well. You guys stopped by my house in the bread truck. I would enjoy hearing from you. Drop a line. Mark

  8. Hey Bill, A blast from the past. This is Tom Fritz.
    Stumbled upon your post. Thanks for sharing this story because I have used the same testimonial information numerous times. We were searching for Hope, a sense of belonging, and desire to be loved. Ty came along and deceived many. I’m just glad we were given the Grace to follow God’s will. However, many of our old friends have never come back Bill (spiritually). Sad, I still pray for them. Would you believe I still have your old Bible? I believe it was your Grandmothers. Let’s hook up. Blessings to you Bill.

  9. Wow, thanks Tom. A blast from the past indeed. I would have last seen you in 1972 – by my math that is 46 years ago. Wow again! Glad to hear you stayed on the straight and narrow. I basically lost touch with everyone in that group. I saw Sam and Mary for a few years afterwards, but then lost touch with them as well. So you are the only one of the perhaps 25 folks all up involved in that group I have any contact with. The power of the Internet! I am now living in Australia, and I take it you are still in the states. But yes one day we must try to catch up. Bless you for reappearing in my life! Keep standing strong.

    The 4000+ articles here will give you an idea what I have been up to. I will email you and try to learn more of your story for the past half century! Bless ya.

  10. Hi Bill. This is Cheryl Seifert though my last name is Kasper now. My grandson found you when he googled Tyacoomb and an article you wrote came up in which you talked a little about the Jesus ranch and mentioned a hippy girl (me) who talked you into going. I was so glad to here about your lifelong commitment to the Lord and your success in the ministry of apologetics. It is so cool that Tom Fritz responded to your tale of cult life. I saw him a few times while in Sheboygan, the last time at my dads’ funeral. His short visit there imparted a grace from the Lord that enabled me to get up and speak from my heart without any prepared eulogy. I wanted to share that with him but never did. I still remember my time at the Jesus ranch fondly because I really did meet the Lord there in a very real dream followed by a cautionary one. I looked into Jesus eyes and was embraced by an indescribable love so beautiful and more than this world can give. Anyway, moral of the story: Jesus looks at our hearts and can even reach a crazy hippy through a cult. I’d love to talk with you and I’d like to get in touch with Tom Fritz too.

  11. Thanks Cheryl. Wow, two oldie moldies within a year (if you don’t mind me referring to you two that way – and I am an oldie moldie as well). Yes it was great to hear from Tom and now great to hear from you. I think you are the only ones to have gotten in touch so far after all these years. Great stuff. As you can see by this site I live in Australia and am still going on with the Lord. I will send you an email and we can catch up more. Many blessings.

  12. I am in awe of the many twists and turns that happen to a person whom God has called…those things which happened before the person sees and understands the light of God’s Word more fully, more correctly. Truly, He protected you throughout your early days of believing on Jesus, though not being 100% biblically sound and understanding of the correct tenets of the faith. Sometimes the events of our past are so depressing, but it really does seem that they were all designed to bring us to Him.

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