25. Into God's Shattering

© 2020 Daniel Yordy

April 1995 - August 1995

I have remembered so many things, including the writing I did through the 1990’s, only through the unresolved pain. Just as I have realized the goodness of my time in the Blueberry community as I have written this account, so I realize that what I wrote then is a lot more in line with what I write now than I have remembered. 

Of truth, to say that I had “adopted” Buddy Cobb’s teaching is not accurate. Yes, I had drawn those things into my mind, and they influenced what I wrote, but I still continued with the things God was teaching me out from the key gospel verses that had already become my determination. The result was great conflict between the two inside of me, a conflict I could not resolve.

More Friends
Not long after we had moved to the house in Lebanon, a man about my age, named Dennis, connected with us. I think that he had known the Troyer’s. Dennis was a chiropractor, but also a lonely man. He visited with us many times through this time period, including attending some of the service times. He was in our home at the same time that Don and Martha Howat visited us. I got in an argument with him regarding our assurance of faith in Christ, having mentally embraced Buddy Cobb’s teaching that it’s an easy thing for us to damn ourselves. I would love the opportunity to tell him I was wrong.

Dennis was a very practical chiropractor and taught me much on how to put my back into place by myself by pressing on the bones of the back of my skull, thus relieving the muscle tension and allowing the vertebrate to slip back into place. Little Johanna was a bit plugged up. Dennis simply pressed gently on the flap of skin between her thumb and finger and in a few minutes, the pipes opened wide! Dennis would be one of many who followed us into move community, in his case a visit at Blueberry for a few weeks in the late summer of 1995.

My mother had many friends in the Lord throughout the area. One sister that visited while Mom was still with us in Lebanon was Virginia Martin. Virginia continued visiting with us even after Mom went to Minnesota, just for fellowship in the Lord. After awhile, though, the things I shared became too much for her. She wrote us a letter saying that she would not continue visiting with us. Maureen and I valued her friendship too much, however, and so we shared that we needed that friendship, and I resolved to be more careful with what I said. Virginia agreed and continued occasional visits with us, while we also visited in her home out in the McDowell Creek area.  

Then, in August of 1994, Maureen had signed on with Avon in order to earn a little extra money. We had purchased a small Ford Fiesta sedan from Glenn and Kim before they left for Minnesota. Although much of the time Maureen walked our neighborhood with the children to sell to her Avon customers, she also had this car, while I drove the blue van to work. One of Maureen’s customers was a lady named Katie Bracken who lived just a few blocks away from us. In the spring of 1995, Katie came over to our house, saw some tapes of my teaching sessions, borrowed them, witnessed to the word I shared, and became a life-long friend.

Katie Bracken was a tall thin woman, maybe ten years older than us. She suffered from an auto-immune disease and should have died more than once. She could not work, but had successfully persevered until she was accepted on Social Security disability. She was exuberant and filled with faith and joy, however. She adopted our children as her own niece and nephew. Katie immediately became a large part of our lives. 

Katie, then, introduced us to a number of people in Lebanon who did not fit into regular churches. These people had been reading Gene Edwards. We fellowshipped with them, and I shared the things I could. They received little, however, that was outside of their theological comfort zone. I lost some because I used an Old Testament passage to speak of God with us, that they had assigned to the present nation of Israel contrary to Paul’s gospel. I lost others because I dared to suggest that we could walk with no disconnection from God, that is, without sin. 

It is the same in the present time. People are really committed to a tiny and faraway Jesus and to a someday salvation.

Last Months in Oregon 
I signed up for unemployment benefits after I was laid off from Yoder’s Woodworking in April. At the same time, I thought it would be good to get my own small woodworking jobs. I contracted to build some cabinet doors for someone and enlisted Yoder’s Woodworking to do the part for which I did not have the equipment. Virginia Martin’s husband had a woodshop and tools, and I visited with them about my own woodworking business. At the same time, I worked a few weeks for my brother, Franz, in constructing bee boxes in the shop he had set up in dad’s barn. 

The problem I faced was that any money I earned had to be reported and was thus removed from the unemployment check. This made it pointless to earn extra money without obtaining a full-time job. The point is that I did not seek for a full-time job, but what I did try to do seemed to go nowhere. At the same time, I had begun to feel the effects of physical weakening in my body, just a bit. A forty-hour work week was beginning to be all that I could do.

Through April and May we continued with the services at April’s in Canby and our fellowship with the Rutledge’s. One of the traveling ministries of the move, Gary Snow, from the community in northwest Arkansas, came through with his wife, Shelley, and shared in our service. 

Jacques and April came separately to us regarding their relationship. I shared good counsel with Jacques and Maureen with April. In the end, they decided to go their separate ways. I communicated with Jim and Joyce Fant at Bowens Mill, and they agreed to receive Jacques for a season at the Ridge. He flew down and spent a few months there. We have no more knowledge of him after he left Bowens Mill.

Meanwhile, April talked with us about the community in Lubbock, Texas, where Maureen’s sisters lived. We spoke with Stan Martin, one of the elders there, and he welcomed April to their community and agreed to help her find a good job in Lubbock. Sometime in the summer, then, April closed out things in Oregon and moved to the Lubbock Community. Frieda also went down to Lubbock this summer to join her daughter in that community.

In May, Virginia Martin was diagnosed unexpectedly with a brain tumor. We visited her in her hospital room in Salem. Meanwhile, John and Nathel Clarke had stopped by for the third time. Virginia had returned home, so we all went to see her at her home in the McDowell Creek area. John and Nathel prayed for her, for the Baptism of the Spirit as well as for healing. Later, Virginia did receive the gift of tongues while she was alone worshipping the Lord.

Virginia lingered until December. We were visiting with Frieda in Lubbock when we heard that she had passed on; it was quite a shock to us.

A Decision I Made 
Why did I do it? I have asked that question often over the years, being able to place my decision into God only now. Let me give a bit of a background for this momentous decision. 

On the one hand, sometime that spring, we heard news that Wes Shaw had left Blair Valley and moved permanently back to Blueberry. Up until that moment, I had held fiercely to the word God had spoken to me regarding Blair Valley and our desire to immigrate. Nonetheless, immigration was going nowhere, and we continued feeling a blockage concerning Blair Valley. We did send them gifts of money on occasion as we were able. The very moment we heard that Wes Shaw was no longer at Blair, the blockage we both had felt lifted instantly and the joy of Blair Valley as our home returned to us in full. 

In the other direction, our time in Oregon also seemed to be going nowhere. 

We had been introduced to the multi-level-marketing craze during this time. I had attended one, Primerica, and found it to be lots of hoopla and little substance. The main sister of the group in Lebanon, with whom we had connected through Katie, came over to our home and told us that God had spoken to her that His solution for us was a phone-card MLM that we could sign up for under her. It did not take much thought to perceive that this was a Ponzi scheme with just enough substance to make it legal.

After studying that particular MLM, I knew in my heart that it was immoral, regardless of all the hoopla. This was a strong test, however, because my former eighth grade teacher, Mr. Philips, had signed onto it early and become a millionaire. We had bought our car insurance through him, and he offered to help me to become rich as well.
I preferred to know the Lord.

Then, the brethren in Lebanon also confirmed to us what Franz had shared concerning the dark practices that were prevalent in Oregon. One of the places where dark things happened was Champoeg Park, on the Willamette River north of Salem, not far from Canby, where the charter was signed that made Oregon a state. We had visited there not long before and enjoyed the big trees along the wide river. This bit of information troubled us deeply. It was becoming hard to see the green hills around us with this knowledge.

I thought that maybe we could move to one of the communities in Alaska. I had never had a leading towards Alaska, but this seemed to be our only way back to northern community. And so I wrote a letter to the elders at the Sapa Community in Alaska, not far from Copper Center on the road from the Yukon to Anchorage. It was here that the Johnson’s from the Portland group had moved. They soon replied, excited that we felt to move up to be a part of their community. 

The moment I read their letter welcoming us to their community, I knew that it wasn’t the Lord. I had to write a letter of apology back. Later on Sister Lee Fife, whose daughter also lived at the Sapa community, shared with Maureen and me that we should know what God was speaking before we ever presented such a “leading.” She was completely right. The problem was I just never heard God telling me what to do. No matter how much I tried to hear God for direction, I have usually  (though not always) gotten it wrong, even to this day.

Then, while I was driving with my family up to Canby, the Lord did speak to me in the way that He so often has, not with direction, but with a word of life. He said to me, “Son, do not fight giants I have not placed before you.” 

I had been deeply concerned by the rumors of dark things in Oregon, even though the dark things did not actually affect us. 

Nonetheless, immigrating to Blair Valley was what God had put in our hearts, yet that seemed to be more impossible than ever. We had a list of qualified trades for immigration, and cabinetmaking was at the bottom of the list.

One afternoon in May, as I was mowing the lawn, the thought came into my mind, whether from the Lord, I do not know, that maybe we could obtain a work visa to teach in the school at Blueberry, thus enabling us to return where we would at least be close to Blair Valley. We called Brother John Clarke with our leading, and he soon replied back that they had sought visions and that the visions were positive.

We set ourselves to return to Blueberry.

At the same time, we had been in communication with Dural and Ethelwyn at Graham River concerning the completion of the Tabernacle project. They hoped to do it during July of 1995. And so I was busy preparing for that project as well. We hoped that it would be a similar occasion as the first time, with many men gathering over a four-day period.
Returning to Blueberry seemed to us to make it much easier to be part of the second Graham River Tabernacle raising.

Returning to Blueberry 
And so we did. We said our goodbyes in Oregon. Amos came by to help me load all our belongings into the blue van. He was a good friend, but he felt troubled about our decision. Claude Mack came down from Graham River to help Maureen drive our car up. 

I had purchased a small trailer to pull behind the blue van. When I loaded it with stuff we had left out at Franz’s, the tongue folded up under the weight. We rented a U-Haul trailer instead. 

Mom had left quite a few of her and Dad’s things with us, that is furniture and household utensils, including the couch and recliner Dad had bought in the early 70’s, both of them the best I’ve ever sat on. We still have the couch in our living room, though it has spots tattered by our cats. I simply wore out Dad’s recliner a few years ago. It remained my comfortable connection with Dad for many years.

We continued to stop at the Pacy’s place when we could on our many backs and forths. Meanwhile, I had found that the Canadian immigration and customs office at the Aldergrove crossing was much more congenial to us than other crossings had been. They had consistently and peacefully given me what I asked, and this time was no different. With the letters from the Blueberry School, we were able to obtain a two-year volunteer work visa, a visa that required us to be at Blueberry only.

And so, with Claude’s help, we drove back up to Blueberry with all our belongings.

We Came to the Wrong Place 
I had been a part of Blueberry and its culture for seven years. Maureen and I had been part of many occasions of welcoming visitors or new arrivals. It was often made into a grand occasion. All the way up, and especially as we drove north from Fort St. John, we imagined the joy of our welcome in returning as a family to Blueberry. 

We parked in the parking lot on the other side of the river and walked across the bridge and up the roadway to the community. As the four of us walked into the Blueberry community, however, I felt an immediate horror all through my being, growing stronger each step along the way.

We had come to the wrong place.

That feeling did not lift from me for one moment for the next year-and-a-half. Yet what could we do? Our visa placed us only at Blueberry; we had no other choice. 

No one was there to meet us. We came to the Tabernacle. We saw almost no one, there were no signs of welcome. Finally, we saw John Austin and asked for help in bringing some of our things across. His response was, “Oh, I thought you were coming tomorrow.” 

We were given one large room in the upstairs of the Deardorff cabin, where Maureen had stayed during her two years of college. Within a day or two, Maureen and I sat down with Sister Charity on the front porch of her cabin. I shared with her that we had come to the wrong place. She paused, breathed deeply, and after a moment said, “Daniel, have you considered Blueberry?” She stated that Blueberry had given us so much, and it was our time to give back. That wasn’t really the point, for I always gave freely, but I did not understand.

I shared with her that I very much needed a successful community experience. She said that I needed to die. I had no idea what “die” meant. But I respected and trusted the ministry of the move; I did not know that they also had no idea how someone was to accomplish any actual “dying,” a concept that exists only by being unwilling to believe that God is telling us the truth. 

We asked to see the visions that had been received for our return to Blueberry. When we read them, we were shocked to the core. They were not positive to us. The strongest of them showed a couple who arrived at a place wearing backpacks. Through all the time they were in this place they never removed their packs nor ever felt at home. The other two were similar, showing clearly the same sense I felt immediately on our return, that we had come to the wrong place.

Through the first couple of weeks, I did simple construction work under Dani Maldonado. We built a new outside stairway for the Austin upstairs. It was good to work under Dani, not  carrying the construction responsibility myself. 

Just a few days after we arrived at Blueberry, then, Katie Bracken flew up to spend most of the summer with us. We were at Blueberry a few weeks before we went on over to Graham River to prepare for the Tabernacle-raising part 2. Katie accompanied us to Graham.

Graham River Tabernacle Part 2 
Soon after the first of July, Maureen and I, with the children and Katie Bracken, went over to Graham River Farm. This time, we stayed in the home of Ken and Natalie Womack; Ken was originally from Houston, Texas. The Womack’s had five children; their oldest daughter enjoyed Kyle and Johanna and played with them through these days. Of course, Claude and Roberta Mack, as well as Ryan Louden, were also living at Graham River. They had a wedding during these days, and so Katie got to enjoy a move wedding.

I had communicated with the elders at Blueberry concerning the Tabernacle project and their role in it. I requested the use of some of their shop tools so that we could build a nice kitchen for Graham. Soon after we arrived at Graham River, we learned that the Blueberry eldership chose not to be a part of meeting this need at Graham River. I do not know why and therefore will not speculate, but neither their men nor the tools would be available. Gary Rehmeier did agree that the brethren at Graham could use North Star’s large motor boat to ferry the supplies across the Graham River, which is at its highest through June. Steve Schneider, Lee Wilkerson, and many of the other brethren at Graham worked hard and faithfully to carry all the boards, sheets of plywood and sheetrock, and other supplies across the torrent.

We were at Graham more than a week before the scheduled time. I was given the school cabin, now empty for the summer, as a place to work on the plans and design. I was having a hard time connecting myself with the project. I could not get my mind around it. I simply did not have the support that I had enjoyed the first time. Don Howat was not there, and there were few of the men planning to participate who knew anything of construction. I found a copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte on the shelf and read it for the first time instead of working on the plans.

Meanwhile, Brother Milton and Sister Bonnie Vereide were visiting at Graham River for this occasion. One of their children lived near Sequim, Washington, and we had attended services when they were ministering there. Brother Milton Vereide was a man of great faith and honor, and I always highly valued his words. 

We had a sharing time in the dining room, in what would become the root cellar when the upper parts were finished. I was discouraged and my eyes were cast down. I heard Brother Milton speaking and realized that he was speaking directly to me. I looked up and, one of the few times in my life, I looked straight into his eyes. Brother Milton spoke into me such words of strength and faith and courage. When he had finished, I was once again able to connect with and give myself to the project.

Only around forty-five men were available for the project this time, even though the work was as much as the first time. Since the family at Graham River was much larger than before, about half of those men were from Graham River. None were professional builders, and only Bill Alter was skilled somewhat in construction. I leaned heavily on him, a good thing for me, but he was not able to fill Don Howat’s role.

Nonetheless, I planned the project to proceed in a similar way as before and on the days chosen in mid-July, we began. The first thing that happened was the careful removal of all the roof tin from the temporary roof. We would use it again for the final, much higher and steeper roof. Things had to move well and quickly so that there would be no risk of rain on the now exposed second floor. It was not until the second day that we had the second floor walls up and the third floor joists and sheeting installed. As usual, I had the stairway put in place as soon as the walls were raised so that it was easy to carry the materials up.

I had designed a twelve/twelve, or 45 degree pitch for the roof slope. That meant large and long beams and rafters, all made out of plywood and OSB, and it meant a high center ridge beam twenty feet above the third floor. We had scaffolding, yes, but this was a big deal, and I did not have professionals who could take charge of that part. For that reason, as the first beams and rafters went up, I had to be at the center of the work, directing everything and taking on the most difficult tasks in setting the big beams. 

I was under an enormous pressure with everything resting on me and with little experienced help, yet with forty-five men to direct and to keep busy. My stomach was all tied up in knots. I had to sit in the outhouse without finding relief. When the first rafters were finally set on the south gable, I looked up at them from the ground and saw how high they went. I was stricken with my own folly, that I had designed something absolutely absurd.

Sister Ethelwyn was standing nearby, however, and I went up to her and asked, “Well, what do you think?” She turned to me with her great enthusiasm and said, “Daniel, I LOVE it.” That’s all I needed to hear; I was able to continue.

Nonetheless, by that evening, although most of the rafters were in place, the roof was behind schedule. As soon as the third deck had been sheeted on the second day, we had set up some less adequate tools in the second floor to begin the kitchen cabinets. At the same time, all the interior work of electrical wiring, plumbing, and insulation, etc., was proceeding. The problem was simple and overwhelming. The roof HAD TO BE DONE, and the roof was way behind schedule.

By evening I was considering the hard reality of shutting down all work beneath the roof, sending half the men home, and taking full charge of that high roof myself. The roof had to be done. Yet that evening, while it was still light, a man came across the Graham River in the boat. He was from the Smithers group, and knew the Vereide’s. I had met him when we visited Smithers on our honeymoon. This man was a builder, and not just a builder, but a man who loved high roofs and difficult tasks. His name was Dan.

When I met him I asked, “Dan, are you here for the job?” “Sure am,” he replied. “Will you take the roof,” I asked.  – “I would love to.”

In that moment, I knew that God’s favor was with us. And so Dan took the roof, took charge of all the men working up there, the heights, and the careful installation of the tin. In fact, I had been planning to build a high scaffolding on the end in order to put the last sheets of tin on the overhang. Dan did it himself, without the scaffolding, clambering down a ladder hooked on the peak.

Meanwhile I was free to devote my attention to all the work going on underneath, including the kitchen cabinets. I did not need to give any more thought to the roof.

Nonetheless, after four days the work was not done. Some of the men who had come from elsewhere went back home, but all the men from Graham continued with me. The full work project continued for two more days for a total of six days this time before everything was well-enough finished and the Graham River family could use their new facilities. 

I have included two views of the Graham River Tabernacle during construction.



The kitchen was only partly done, however. I really wanted to stay for one more week. Although many of the Graham River men had to return to their other duties, I still had enough men to keep the momentum going, and I know that one more week would have seen the kitchen completely finished to my plans. 

I asked the Blueberry elders for that extra week at Graham River. John Austin came right over with their reply. “No, there is too much work needing done at Blueberry, you must return now.” This was one of the hardest moments of submission in my life, but it was to such that I had committed myself. And so Maureen and I, with Kyle, Johanna, and Katie, returned to Blueberry the next day.

The kitchen was never finished, one of the many sorrows of my life.

Back at Blueberry
The job the Blueberry elders needed me to do right away was to design a new home for one of the families at Blueberry. This would be an almost complete rebuild of their existing home, using very little of the original. I tackled the job, but soon discovered a disagreement between this couple and John Clarke. The disagreement could not be resolved, and the two weeks I spent on the job were a waste of time. I was given another task that came to nothing after a week, through no fault of mine. And then a third task that also came to nothing. Four weeks back at Blueberry and I had accomplished nothing, all from circumstances entirely separate from me. 

I certainly imagined at the time that this was God’s response to Blueberry’s response to the Graham River project. Neither I nor anyone else can really know that, however.

Soon after our return, Brother John Clarke got up in a service to share the chastisement of the elders upon the Blueberry family. The problem was that we were fleshy and un-submissive to the elders. I was astonished at the difference in him, for in Oregon and Washington, he and Nathel had been wonderful encouragement to everyone. This made absolutely no sense to me.

In August we moved up to the small apartment in the top of the washhouse. This was larger than the room at the Deardorff’s and was quite cozy for us. It was our home for two months. 

Many Who Followed
Meanwhile, through this summer, we had more visitors from Oregon coming up to spend time at Blueberry. Dennis drove up in his small camper pickup to spend a few weeks with us. He saw me slip and fall on the washhouse stairs, putting my back out badly, and was right there to help put it gently in place again. He also worked on the muscles of Sister Charity’s back, which allowed her spine to snap back into place, giving her much relief.

Tommy Rutledge came up for a few days, but soon returned to Oregon disappointed. In the next summer, 1996, Katie Bracken’s sister, Nancy Chaney, with her husband and three adolescent children came up from Oregon in their motorhome to spend a few weeks at Blueberry. In actuality, sixteen people followed us from Oregon into move community, whether for short or for long. Half of that number were members of my own family. 

Having precious believers in Jesus, including my own family members, follow my lead is a deep concern to me. Look at my two headings above – “We Came to the Wrong Place” – and – “Many Who Followed.” 

I am compelled, then, to place here a caution, something I have only come to understand over many years. 

I have had one pursuit in my life, one direction alone in which I am going. That one pursuit is best expressed by the covenant I made with God when I was 22, that I would know God and that I would walk with a people who know God. More than that, the thing I wanted most out from the Bible was to know in full John 14:23, that is, Father with me at Home in my heart.

From the day I gave my heart back to God at age nineteen until this morning as I am writing this chapter, that one pursuit has never deviated or turned aside, regardless of all my searing inabilities and all the roughness of my outward shell. Some might imagine that I went here and then there, that I “left the move,” etc. etc. I have certainly imagined the same. 

I now know that is untrue. – But, what I must do over the next several chapters, until August of 1998, is to show two things. First, I continue to place all the brethren in the move and all my experiences into the love of God towards me. And second, without damaging your honor as a reader towards God’s people, I must show you why and how the move fellowship, by 1998, was no longer part of my pursuit of the knowledge of God, and why I would never suggest to anyone now to visit most of the move communities.

I now see my time in that fellowship as being a spy sent into the land of Christ to find the good fruit that is there as well as to experience the full measure of those things that are not of Christ so that I might show both to you.

When I read now the letters that Mom and Katie Bracken and others wrote to us through this time, I see two things. First, I see their own positive and strong interaction with God leading them and the joy and desire in their hearts to be part of Christian Community. Walking with Jesus and learning of Him was their continual expression. They were not “following me,” per se, but were walking with God in full faith. Second, however, I see that what convinced them and drew their hearts was the love and life that flowed out from Maureen and me to them, beyond what they had known elsewhere.

Here are some things Katie wrote to us several months later. When Katie left Blueberry at the end of the summer, she returned to Oregon, disposed of all her things and business there, and moved to the community at Detroit Lakes, Minnesota, where Mom and Glenn and Kim were living. Her words were a great strength to us.

“I, deep in my heart, miss you and your family (Maureen and I). You, all of you, mean so much to me, to my life in Christ. I’m here in community because of you guys. You have large quantities of Jesus seeping out of you everywhere you go.” – Then later, “Thank you very much for the wonderful visit and fellowship. Of all the people God has used in my life, you, your family, has had the most powerful impact on me, my spirit and my walk. Through you God gave me new hope and a new vision. Words cannot express the wonderful deep work God has accomplished in me since meeting you both.”

This, then, is my present consternation. Not everyone in any fellowship is connecting with God in the same way, nor does everyone possess the same desire to bless God’s precious people with life and joy. And the terrible thing is that among those who become leaders in the false hierarchy of “authority over” that is the church in this age of the ignorance of God, more than half are not connecting with God in the only way I must. And even those who move in “authority over” with a true heart, are easily swayed by those who have a different view of God and of service to others.

I led my family and friends into a structure of church that operated contrary to God in many critical ways. Then, three years later, I “left the move,” while they were still in it. 
This seems to me to be an inexcusable action, one of which I must give a full account. Nonetheless, I do not condemn myself, for I did not yet know Father with us as I know Him now. At the same time, just as I also place the Lord Jesus Christ upon every moment of my life and give Him thanks in all, so also must they.

And so I will continue to weave these thoughts through the next several letters. Regardless of how I place Jesus upon all the circumstances of my life, I have no intention of connecting any reader with that particular fellowship as it has remained. I ask God to give me the right words to show you why.

Sorrow Towards Blair Valley
We quickly learned upon our return to Blueberry that the attitude of the elders towards the group now living at Blair Valley had flipped. When we shared our continued leading to join that family, we were told it wasn’t the Lord. Different ones of the elders said dark things to us against Blair Valley, just in passing. These things confused us very much. One time I was entering someone’s home and a new sister at the community, from Holland, was coming out with her husband. She proclaimed loudly to me, “Blare, Blare, that means a loud noise. Why would anyone call a place such a name.” Her husband saw the pain upon my face and quickly led her away.

At that point, we had no understanding of this unexpected reversal.

Nonetheless, we asked for visions for our leading to Blair Valley so that we could begin the lengthy process of all that is needed for an immigration application. One thing we needed was letters of welcome from the family at Blair Valley. The visions were wonderfully positive, so much so that the elders had to accept them, although Brother John counseled that they showed a barrier. We saw no such thing in the visions; nonetheless, we had committed our lives to submission.

That October, we finally were able to visit the family at Blair Valley and spent several days there. At that point, there were three families at Blair, Bob and Connie Newman with their several children, Kars and Minnie Kiers, an older couple, and Rick and Shirley Annett. The Newman’s and the Kiers’s had come to Blair from the Headwaters community and Rick and Shirley, after their years at Blueberry and Evergreen, had spent a few years in the fellowship in Whitehorse in the Yukon before coming to Blair. 
Our time at Blair Valley was so wonderful, but I will share more of our visits there in the next letters. The important thing here is what we learned.

There were two problems at Blair Valley. The first problem was that Kars Kiers was a strong-headed Dutchman, who had no problem putting everyone in their place, with his way being the only right way. Kars was, in short, a bully. Now I say that inside of the fact that I walked daily with Kars Kiers, he and I, for a year-and-a-half. That was a good time for me, a time of great peace, and Maureen and I counted Kars and Minnie as friends. 

The other problem was Wes Shaw. Basically, Wes did little to support the needs of the family at Blair because he always found concerns to devote himself to away from the community. At the same time, he was an easy target for Kars. When Wes returned to Blueberry, he gave his side of things to the eldership. I’m sure there was some truth in it; I also suspect that it was neither complete nor completely accurate. Nonetheless, the Blueberry elders sided entirely with him.

Again, it is not my place to share the failings of others except that Maureen and I were caught right in the middle of all this, as in the jaws of a vice.

Meanwhile I had gotten up to share in the sharing service a word concerning what God had taught me through the story of Moses and Korah. Let me share here what I meant, as I understand it now. I shared that the elders, in their care over us, paid a price before God for our sakes, just as Moses had for the children of Israel. I shared that sometimes, just as then, we do not know what things they bear for our sakes and that we need to honor and regard them no matter what outward difficulties we might be going through. I believed that with all my heart and walked fully in it. 

The truth is, I am still convinced that I owe much of my present knowledge of God to the price paid before God, sometimes unseen in the darkness, by Brother John and Sister Nathel, Brother John Austin and Sister Edie Dwyer, Brother Gary Rehmeier and Sister Charity, and by all the others. We have no idea how much we owe to many who have gone before.

What I shared was well-received by the elders, but not so much by the family. Michelle Ebright said to me, “That’s Old Testament, Daniel.” She was completely right as well. I was in the hand of God’s determination towards me, most certainly, but I did not yet know the wondrous joy of our already completed Salvation.

Some final notes, then, inside this topic included first the sorrow of my connections with the brethren in Oregon. Basically, I was told that by coming to Blueberry, I was completely cut off from all that and my care for them was no longer of God. I walked into the dining room one day and Brother Dave Smillie came up to me and said, rather forcefully, “What’s your problem, Daniel, you need to be married to Blueberry.” He did apologize to me a few days after for saying that. Nonetheless, I could not change the sense of disconnection that filled me. 

Sister Nathel had come to me, and, speaking out from the good times in which we had known her and Brother John in Oregon, shared with me that she wanted to be a personal help to me in the Lord, and that if I had any need, I should feel free to come counsel with her.

And so, one day in September, Maureen and I walked up the hill from the washhouse to the Clarke house at the top. The Clarkes were getting ready to leave on a ministry trip that day, but Nathel had said she could spend a bit of time with us. We were so discouraged, caught in things we could not understand, and helpless to change our situation.

You see, I cannot know for sure, but I don’t think that it ever entered anyone’s mind that what I felt inside could actually be the Lord. Everything was framed only in “What is wrong with Daniel Yordy.”

We sat down in the Clarke’s living room. Nathel left Brother John to finish the final packing into the van and came in to talk with us. I did not share much before she began to respond. For the next fifteen minutes, Nathel rebuked me in great anger. I have no idea what she said, I was too confused. Maureen clung to my hand. When she was done, she went out, got into the van, and they drove away. Nathel is a good woman, and this was not at all at the level of my experience with Lloyd Green. Nonetheless, this was the second worse moment I endured in my years in move community.

Maureen and I stumbled back down the hill to our little apartment, keeping each other upright. We did not understand, and we had nowhere to turn but to the Lord.

The Issues of God 
As I am writing this, the deep sense is growing in me that Maureen and I walked through all these things inside a bubble of absolute Grace.

I must address my brief experience with Sister Nathel and with all the elders through these months. The false words spoken into me have sat in me as a deep underlying strata of grief for the twenty-five years from then until now. But as I have finally shared them with you, I look inside and see no grief at all. This is one of the most profound experiences of salvation I have known.

Sister Nathel, in later years, sat with Brother John across from Maureen and I in her daughter, Ann’s, living room here in Houston and personally apologized to us for how she had responded to us, not just that time, but both of them asked forgiveness for their incomplete “covering” of us. Maureen and I gave them our heart-filled forgiveness with all joy.

Nonetheless, that one-time experience with Sister Nathel is not the issue for me, for that grief is gone forever and only joy remains. Here is the greater contention. – “We Came to the Wrong Place” – and – “Many Who Followed.” 

After writing that portion, I spent more than a day carrying inside a great condemnation of shame and grief such as I have not known for several years. I placed that condemnation entirely into the Lord Jesus sharing Himself with me; nonetheless, I pondered its full meaning and allowed it to run its course until the sweet revelation of God’s intentions showed itself to me.

When I look at several letters written to us by dear ones precious to us through these years, I see that they all had known a life and love flowing to them personally from Maureen and I that lifted them up in respect and honor as their hearts told them Jesus really is.

I realized that is all I have ever wanted to be or do as a minister of Christ, to lift people up into the joy of their salvation, into knowing just how much they are valued and honored. I have never, never understood any other approach to God’s precious people. And this is the great press God is taking me into through the year of our Lord, 1996. 

I did not “lead” anyone into any “wrong” place. When I look through especially Mom’s and Katie’s letters to us, I see them engaged clearly with the immediate presence of the Lord Jesus, even through the difficult circumstances. It was He who led all of these inside of His path for the unfolding of their lives, and we know that God always leads us and that He ALWAYS leads us in triumph.

The sorrow of condemnation I felt was that I was unable to continue showing to my family members and to all these dear to us the joy of their salvation in the love and light of Jesus. I could not because I did not know that joy myself, because I cannot maintain long-distance relationships, because of the crippling pain and grief I have carried through these years, and because, without the move communities, there has been no place of fellowship and connection.

All of these issues will be very much a part of the unfolding of my life story from August of  1998 until today. What I hope to impart here, then, is God’s true issue in my life.

From November of 1994, when I required of God that He would make me a vessel through whom He could give His Word to His precious Church, until today, over twenty-five years, I have carried in my heart before God through many tears and much travail, not seeing how it could be, that God would establish through me a place for His people, a provision of the true gospel, of the life of Christ, of lifting up, of loving one another with pure hearts fervently.

And I will not let go until He does.