Now we are at the time in Grandpa’s autobiography when my own father tried to get me arrested in Snohomish, Washington. My own father would have killed me if he could have done so without being known or arrested himself for the crime. He had that much anger and hate towards me. But for what?
What made my own father become so upset that he would do anything possible to disrupt my life, put me in jail, take away my children, and yes, believe it or not, kill me if it were humanely possible. If my own father could muster that much hate to do this to his own son, you can imagine what the rest of the world would like to do to me.
What the hell did I do to warrant such a terrible reaction from my own father?
Grandkids, your own parents do not like me either. Not one of them has ever tried to sit with me for any length of time and get to know me. The few who have dealt with me after they became adults (who claim they love me because I’ll always be their dad) did it because they needed my worldly help. Any child would expect this help from a normal father, if the father was able and willing to help. I would have helped any of your parents (my children), at any time. All they had to do was ask. You’ll read about how I helped my own dad financially and in many other ways, even after he tried to get me arrested and treated me the way that he did. You will come to realize that a truly good person is not known for how he treats his family, friends, and loved ones, but for how he treats his enemies.
My parents, my siblings, my children, all of my ex-wives, all those with whom I once shared a filial relationship are scared of me, or at the least, they are very uncomfortable with me.
What did I ever do that was so bad that my own father wanted to put me in jail? What did I ever do that made my own kids uncomfortable around me and want nothing to do with me … which means that they don’t want me to have anything to do with you (my grandchildren)?
Why do so many people hate me and want me to stop doing what I do?
What is it that I do?
You can sit in a room with all of the people whom I have known throughout my life, and many who have never met me, and ask them why they do not like me. I would love to be a fly on the wall in that room and listen to their answers. Unless they lie, none of them can ever say that I have physically harmed them, taken advantage of them (except for the waste of time … according to their perception and perspective … because they chose to be in my life), or in any other way abused them.
Although many have accused me of criminal activity and reported these alleged crimes to many United States law enforcement officials … yep, to the CIA, FBI, Homeland Security, and every other state and local agency … not one time have any of these agencies found any evidence of me doing anything criminal. Oh, believe me, if any of these agencies could, they would have taken action.
Later in my autobiography, you’ll learn of Ida Smith, one of the most prolific and prominent LDS/Mormon women of her day. Ida was friends with some very powerful people in politics and religion. Ida found Grandpa and what I do. She read the books associated with what I do and it changed the perspective of her entire life forever (she was 77 when she found the MWAW). Ida took the books to some of her best friends who were United States Senators and LDS/Mormon prophets, seers, and revelators, and told them that she had finally found the Real Truth. She pled with her friends to read the books that had changed her life.
Of course, none of them did.
So, you can imagine what these powerful friends of hers did. Of course, they were concerned for her! Wouldn’t you be? Here’s a lady who is as smart as a whip, doesn’t take any crap from anyone, has been involved in conservative politics and religion her entire life, and has worked alongside some men whom the world thinks are some of its best. She reads a couple of books and her entire perception and perspective changes (180 degrees); then, she tells these men, whom the world looks to for wisdom and respects, that they don’t know shit about shit and that Christopher knows it all.
What do you think these men are going to do? They weren’t about to sit back and let this unknown “parking garage guard” who used to work for the LDS/Mormon Church deceive their elderly friend.
Ida Smith was a member of the prestigious and honored Joseph and Hyrum Smith family. Ida would eventually make me the Executor and Beneficiary of her estate and set up an Irrevocable Trust dedicated solely to what Grandpa does.
If you had access to the upper echelons (levels, ranks) of the United States justice system, you’d ask for its help in saving your elderly friend. Right?
That’s exactly what they did.
Your Ol’ Grandad was investigated to the max. And nothing was found … except for one thing. The thing that made my own father want to hurt me, that keeps your parents (my children) from wanting to know me, and that makes this world hate me: that thing that Grandpa does. The thing that Grandpa claims to be.
I am the world’s ONLY True Messenger. There is no other person in this world (except for four others who remain incognito and hidden among the masses) who knows the Real Truth about all things: how things really were in the past, how things really are in the present, and how things really will be in the future.
Now, this claim alone surely wouldn’t have caused my father, my kids, and so many others to hate me. If I claimed this of myself, alone, I might be seen as a bit bonkers in the head, but no one would pay any significant attention to what I do, nor be threatened by the claims that I make. Others would have paid little attention to my ramblings, or to any book that I might have published.
Maybe they might have listened to my ramblings and read my books, but upon so doing, they might have smiled and said to themselves, “Oh, Christopher’s a bit bonkers in the head. Nothing he says makes any sense, so what harm is he doing being bonkers?”
God, how I wish I were bonkers! God, how I wish that the things that I teach did not make sense! God, how I wish that I was not the ONLY True Messenger upon Earth!
God, God, God, how I wish that my brain wasn’t fucked with on June 16, 1987!
If I didn’t make any sense, no one would pay attention to me.
Ida Smith certainly wouldn’t have thrown her entire respected, prolific life under the bus and made Grandpa the Executor and Benefactor of all of her worldly possessions! And there are others like Ida, albeit very few. There are others who are renown in their own sphere, respected by their own family and friends, seen as worldly successful at what they do, who found Grandpa and his message and changed their entire perception and perspective on life.
(Always keep in mind why Grandpa often uses and italicizes these two important words: perception and perspective. Your perception of things is your ability to see, hear, or become aware of something through your senses; while your perspective of things is the particular attitude toward or way of regarding something [your point of view] that you have made of what you perceive (i.e., experience through your senses.)
Grandpa is blamed for destroying families and destroying lives. Grandpa is blamed for people leaving the security of their religion and causing a once staunch believer in religion to not believe in God. Grandpa is blamed for a lot of things.
But what the fuck did your grandpa actually do?
I published books that contained information. People read the information and change their perception and perspective. They change how they see things and the opinions that they make upon seeing things. The information that Grandpa gave them “opened their eyes, unstopped their ears, healed the lame way that they were walking down an erroneous path.” Yep, Ol’ Grandpa symbolically did what the Christian mythological Jesus did: Grandpa healed people.
There it is!
Grandpa claims that he is Jesus.
Grandpa claims that the story of Jesus was a myth.
But, for God’s sake! Many others claim the same thing but they’re not hated and persecuted for saying it. Why do so many hate me?
Regarding Christianity, this answer is simple: Grandpa has used the Jesus story in his message to first, open the minds of Christians. Then, once the information from Grandpa is in their minds, it logically proves that Jesus wasn’t a real person. This shit pisses off the Christians!
Christians hate Grandpa because what he has published makes more sense than any other Christian book or scripture. And when a Christian reads Grandpa’s stuff and is thoroughly convinced that Jesus was not a real person, the Christian’s family and friends are going to hate the guy who convinced the Christian to change his or her perspective on Christianity.
If Christianity were true, Grandpa would certainly be a Messenger of the devil … an Anti-Christ. Right?
But again, what did Grandpa actually do? I simply put out information. Had the information that I have put out in my message not made any sense, or had I presented the information’s source as coming from my own head, then I wouldn’t be hated and persecuted so much for being bonkers, or for being the devil’s messenger.
But Grandpa makes a lot of sense! Grandpa can win any debate … ABSOLUTELY ANY DEBATE … held on any question of religion, politics, or regarding who we are and why we exist. Most who have tried to debate me on any of these issues end up by getting angry at Grandpa and ending the debate. But in most cases, once one has studied Grandpa’s books and listened to some of Grandpa’s videotaped events, most shy away from attempting the debate.
Jack and Jill are married. Jill looks to Jack as a man who knows a lot and from whom Jill can be assured a competent answer to most questions. Jill gives Jack a lot of value. Jack feels really good that Jill listens to him and gets all of her answers about life from him. Jack is pretty smart, but he can’t answer all of Jill’s questions.
Jill starts reading some things that answer questions that Jack can’t answer. When Jill accepts the answers that she finds out by reading some things, and tries to tell Jack that she has found the answers to the questions that he cannot answer for her, Jack feels devalued.
Feeling devalued, Jack does what most men do: gets angry and frustrated. Jack wants to know what Jill is reading to find her answers … answers that he can’t give her. Jill tells him that she is reading some books she found in her search on the Internet. Jack finds out what books are giving Jill the answers.
Because the answers make so much sense to Jill, and Jack cannot confound the answers she is finding outside of her relationship and reliance on Jack for the answers, Jack doesn’t make any attempt to give better answers … because he can’t. The only thing left for Jack to do is to find out who is giving these answers and do everything that he can to demean the answer-giver and prove to Jill that she shouldn’t be accepting any of these answers … even though they make perfect sense … because the answer-giver is a monster, a deceiver, a manipulator, a pedophile, a sexual predator, a murderer. He’s been in jail so he must be bad. A judge found him to be bad, and judges are always right … cough, cough.
“Look at all this proof that I found about this answer-giver, Jill!” screams Jack.
“How can you believe anything that this guy says! Look at the facts about him! There’s documentation online! There are things about him online which prove that he is a monster who is out to deceive you!”
Grandkids, the above hypothetical situation of Jack and Jill has happened hundreds of times in regards to Grandpa and what he does. It happened to Ida Smith.
Once Ida began telling her family and friends about the books she was reading, her concerned family and friends looked up all the information that they could about Grandpa. They found a lot. None of which was good. They showed it to Ida Smith. Ida had only one response to her concerned family and friends: “Show me where he is wrong.”
None of Ida’s family or friends would read the books and try to understand what changed her mind.
One of Ida’s best friends, the late U.S. Senator, Robert “Bob” Bennett, to whom Ida hand-delivered The Sealed Portion of the Book of Mormon and 666, The Mark of America, Seat of the Beast–The Apostle John’s New Testament Revelation Unfolded, wrote a lengthy dissertation (long essay) to her about the Book of Mormon. Bennett included his personal testimony of the Book of Mormon and tried to use scripture and his own logic to prove the fact that the Lord would not choose anyone who was not a leader of the Church to publish the sealed part of the gold plates. The Book of Mormon is the unsealed part of the plates.
Here is part of Ida’s response to Bennett:
“I hope that my response to you is considered with the love in which it is intended … While your concern is heartfelt and much appreciated Bob, I must ask if you have read any of the books that I gave you. If you have, please feel free to point out any part of these books that the Lord would not endorse and support. … You state that the Lord would not call Christopher to translate the sealed part of the plates because he isn’t a church leader, and he is an apostate. I would point out the scripture in the Book of Mormon that talks about Samuel the Lamanite and the prophet Abinadi. Neither of these men were leaders of the Church, but the Lord called them to go to the Church and call it and its leaders to repentance. Am I correct that Nephi was the prophet and leader of God’s church at the time that Samuel the Lamanite was called to go to the people and tell them to repent? Am I correct to say that King Noah and his High Priests were the leaders of God’s true church at that time? … Bob, you well know me. I do not fall for anything that I have not considered and studied extensively. … I have read some of the things about Christopher written on the intirnet [sic]. I have not read them all. But I have also read much more about the prophet Joseph Smith that was not true of what I personally know about him. … While I appreciate the concern that you and others have for me and the new decisions I have made to my life, I can only lovingly ask that you read the books with a sincere heart and real intent, as I have. Once you have, please feel free to contact me again about your feelings. … Your Dear Friend of many years, Ida.”
Bob Bennett never contacted or talked to Ida again.
Once Dan Bartelheimer had turned over Walt’s Milk House to me to run in January of 1990, and after Caleb Marc was born, I asked my youngest brother, James, if he wanted to come and work on the farm and earn a little money. James came and worked for a bit. While around James, I talked to him about his LDS/Mormon beliefs, particularly about the Book of Mormon. James didn’t know much about his religion, or about the Book of Mormon. I would later learn that he was kind of freaked out with my new lifestyle and my insistence that he read the Book of Mormon. James didn’t stay very long.
While I was growing up, I never saw my dad read the Book of Mormon. He read countless western books, especially Louis L’Amour books. My dad didn’t know much about the scriptures while we were growing up. The Church taught us that the Book of Mormon was the most important book we could read and study, yet Dad never read it. I remember commenting to my father when I was about 13 years old, “Dad, you read all those western books but you don’t read the Book of Mormon. Why?”
“Don’t you have something to do?” Dad responded frustrated.
After leaving my employment with the LDS/Mormon Church in February of 1988 and making our way to Snohomish, Washington, the only thing that my family knew was that I had experienced something while working in the Salt Lake City LDS Temple that made me quit the Church. The only thing I ever said was that the Lord told me, during a special event, that the Church was corrupt. I think I mentioned that I wanted to live a more Christ-like, righteous lifestyle, one that I knew God wanted us to live … something like that. Not once did I ever tell my family, or anyone else, that God had called me to be a prophet or to any special mission. As I mentioned, I let people believe whatever they wanted.
But the things that I did say, although few, made a lot of sense. Although my family thought I was bonkers, they did not do anything to stop me or intervene in my new chosen lifestyle at the time. Maybe when James spent the few days that he did with me on the Snohomish farm, maybe he went back and told the family I was bonkers and a religious fanatic. I don’t know. But I do know what happened next.
After James had left, I contacted my dad and told him that if he and Gloria were looking for a new employment opportunity, they could move to Snohomish and take over Walt’s Milk House and run it while I worked at other jobs for Dan Bartelhiemer. For some reason, my dad was eager to have a new employment opportunity.
I told Dad a little about how the store was currently set up. He said that he would put some things together and come to Washington and set up the store. A few days later, Dad came with a trailer full of things with which to stock the store. I let my dad do what he wanted to the store, hoping that he would benefit from it and make it a good thing for him and Gloria.
My dad was there for only a few days at the beginning of March when the following took place:
I was working the cash register in the store with Brittany. At only 6-years-old, Brittany was taking money and giving correct change to customers. Dressed in her Amish getup, with beautiful blond hair and blue eyes, customers loved coming into the store and watching Brittany work. At this particular time, both Brittany and Joshua were with me and their grandpa tending the store. While Brittany was at the cash register, Joshua was helping his grandpa stock the shelves. Joshua loved his grandpa … a lot.
A woman came into the store and asked to see Jackie.
“Who are you? I am her husband,” I responded.
“I am the Relief Society President from the local LDS Ward. We were given Jackie’s name and address and told that she wanted us to stop by and see her.”
“No. I doubt that. I am her husband and we are no longer members of the Church and want nothing to do with the Church. If you have anything to tell Jackie, you can tell me.” I responded, probably not that nicely.
At this point, I told Brittany to go find Jackie and have her come up to the store. The barn in which we lived was a ways off.
“Well, her family in Utah seems to think that Jackie wants us to check in on her. They contacted the Church and asked us to.”
This took me by surprise, and for a moment I wondered if Jackie had contacted her family behind my back.
“Jackie is not interested in the Church,” I continued.
“Can I talk to her?” the lady persisted.
During this encounter, my father was listening while stocking and rearranging the shelves.
“No. Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to me,” I responded a bit more sternly.
The lady left the store.
My father immediately rushed me, got in my face, and started yelling at me, spit flying in my face:
“You are not a prophet! You are not Abinadi! You are not anyone! You are Chris Nemelka!”
I thought he was going to punch me.
Little Joshua hugged my leg throughout the entire incident on the verge of tears as he witnessed his beloved grandpa treat his beloved father with hate, anger, and possible violence. I believe that the only thing that kept my dad from punching me in the face was that little Joshua was hugging my leg.
I didn’t move a muscle. I smiled at my dad and calmly said,
“Dad, take your stuff off the shelves and leave. Now.”
He didn’t argue. He left the store. He backed his trailer and car up to the store’s front doors and loaded up most of what he had put in the store. He never said a word.
Jackie came in the store with Brittany, Brandon, and baby Caleb. My father didn’t acknowledge them. He loaded up his stuff and drove away.
I told Jackie about the lady. She said that her family wouldn’t have contacted the Church about her. She had always told her family that she was happy and fine and would never leave me.
I remember thinking, “What the hell just happened?” I really didn’t understand what was going on with my dad.
A few days later, I found out what a future LDS/Mormon Bishop and staunch member of the Church was capable of doing. As I explained in a previous chapter, my father came back to Washington, contacted the local Sheriff, and tried to get me arrested and thrown in jail.
Immediately after my father, Paula, and her father (Paula and her dad had come with my father to take Brittany and Joshua from Jackie once the Sheriff had arrested me) were commanded by the Snohomish County Sheriff to leave his county and never return or he would arrest them, I called my brother Cory.
“Cory, this is Chris. Do you know anything about what Dad just did trying to get me arrested?” I asked incredulously.
“You’re a false prophet!” he yelled into the phone. Yeah. Really!
Those were some of the last words that Cory ever spoke to me.
When The Sealed Portion of the Book of Mormon was published October of 2004 and put online, Cory began to troll* me relentlessly. He was ruthless, mean, and persistent.
*Troll: one who posts a deliberately provocative message to a newsgroup or message board with the intention of causing maximum disruption and argument.
At the time Cory was trolling me online, I could have destroyed his logic and made him look like a fool for what he was saying. Like my father, Cory didn’t know scripture, and I could have made him look like the biggest jerk and an ignorant fool using his own religious beliefs to discount everything that he was saying. But I didn’t. I responded briefly to his rants but not with the same meanness he was using to troll me.
In 2016, at my dad’s and Gloria’s 5oth Wedding Anniversary, I smiled, approached Cory, and gave him a hug. He didn’t quite know how to respond.
I never … not once … treated my father, my brothers, or anyone else for that matter, like they treated me. Why? Because I knew the Real Truth about who we are and why we exist. I’ve been trying to explain this Real Truth throughout this autobiography. I knew that each of our mortal experiences is exactly what our personal God wants from us, as far as it is possible … our “personal God” responsible for the involuntary dream experience of people who are living upon this earth as mortals.
Although I wouldn’t coin the phrase until many years later, I knew …
Everyone is right. Which makes everyone wrong.®
Cory was right. My dad was right. The Relief Society President that came into Walt’s Milk House was right. Dan Balterheimer, a devout Christian, was right. Everyone with whom I associated was right. And I always treated them like they were right. But I knew in my heart, that the things that they believed about religion, about life, even about themselves was wrong … completely wrong. But at this time, it wasn’t my role to point this out to them.
At no time from June 1987 to March of 1990, when my father tried to get me arrested, did I ever mention that I was called and chosen to translate the sealed portion of the gold plates. I do think that in some conversations I might have implied that if the Lord wanted someone to do it, I’d do it.
Although I can’t remember all of what I told my family were the reasons for which I left the Church, I know that I never put myself up as a chosen prophet, of any kind. I simply wanted to be left alone to live my new life with Jackie and my children. I wanted to raise my children in poverty and instill in them the ability to see failure in this life as success. It was my desire to help my children … no one else at the time … learn the Real Truth that I knew about who they are and why they exist.
Just a few days after my father left, I told Dan and his wife that we needed to move on so that my family would leave us alone. The Balterheimers were still reeling from what my dad had done. They couldn’t understand it. Although they knew that the LDS/Mormons were pretty weird in what they believed, Dan and his wife could not understand how or why a father would do to his son what my dad had tried to do to me. Dan paid me extra wages and sent me and my family on our way. He and his wife tearfully watch us pull away from their farm with our little travel trailer pulled by our old Ford truck. (I had previously sold the camper to buy a travel trailer.)
I figured that if we moved to somewhere downtown Seattle, my family wouldn’t be able to find us and bug us. We ended up in Kent, Washington. I found a job at a metal manufacturing place and went to work. We put the travel trailer at public parks or wherever we could. I saw an old 30-foot school bus for sale, bought it for $700, gutted the travel trailer and used its parts to make a new home for Jackie, Brittany, Joshua, Brandon, and baby Caleb. I loved that school bus. I used ordinary house paint and painted the entire bus, including windows, white.
One of my co-workers at the manufacturing plant saw our poor living conditions and asked his mother if we could park our bus at her house. I can’t remember her name, but she raised flowers and bees and sold them to the public. She had a home along a very busy street in Kent, Washington. She let us park our bus behind her home. (I still had the Ford truck that I used to go back and forth to work, but I eventually sold it and bought an old Dodge Charger … fastest car I’ve ever owned.) She let us sell her honey on the road. Brittany would patiently sit for hours upon end waiting for someone to stop and buy some honey from her. No one ever did. The street was too busy. But there she was, now barely seven-years-old, sitting alongside the road for hours, alone, trying to sell honey.
Brittany was my little girl. We were as close as any father and daughter could possibly be. Joshua was very close to Jackie, too, having known no other mother but Jackie for the first years of his life. Brandon was growing up and I could see that he was a bit different than the other kids. Brandon was incredibly loving and very, very smart for a child. Brandon and I bonded well, and he was very close to his older brother, Joshua. As I mentioned, Caleb was the best baby I had ever known, hardly ever crying. Caleb’s personality was unique also. Caleb held a sense of humor close to mine. Caleb would grow to be the family clown, and also close to me. My kids meant more to me than anything in the world.
Jackie was the best mother any father could ask for. I loved Jackie the best I knew how. Not once did I ever consider … at this time … leaving her for anyone else.
I quit my job at the metal manufacturing company and started my own business: CAS Maintenance and Property Management. “CAS” stood for either “Chris and Sons” (as I wanted my boys to help me someday), or for the initials I was using with my new chosen name, Christopher Abraham Stohl … Jackie’s maiden name was Stohl. My family knew of my change of name. This was possibly another reason why my Dad was so upset. But it was true that I changed my name to no longer be Christopher Nemelka. I was a new person now. Nemelka was all about worldly success and notoriety. My new name reflected my desire to live completely detached from the world. I no longer valued the Nemelka name and would have continued to use the new name for the rest of my life, if it wasn’t for something that was about to happen in my life in April of 1991.
I had no idea that the name Christopher Nemelka was actually chosen for me; that others wanted me to always go by my birth name so that I could help them do their work.
You see, their work is the thing that Grandpa started doing that makes people hate me so much.
God! Had I only stayed with Jackie and lived as Christopher Stohl the remainder of my life!
But “God” had other plans for me … plans that included the reason why “God” transfigured my brain a few years before.
CAS Maintenance and Property Management had various clients. One was a Real Estate and Property Management office located in Kent. I would contract to do the maintenance work on their rentals and fix up houses before the houses were put on the market. The receptionist at one of these offices was Joy Church. Finding out about our situation, Joy talked with her husband, Rick, and offered their expansive backyard to park our bus. I have never met a couple quite like Rick and Joy Church. Their kindness, compassion, and incredible nature was more than exemplary. These two were amazing!
Without charging us any rent, we parked our bus at the Church’s home where there was plenty of space to grow a huge garden and let the kids play. We found the right place for our bus on their property and parked it, for what I assumed at the time, would be many years of joyful living.
It was always my intent to homeschool the kids until a certain age, around sixth grade, then enroll them in public school, but still as Amish-dressed, poor kids. I wanted this so that they would learn the lessons of inequality and marginalization from firsthand experience.
Jackie was an incredible wife, mother, and teacher. Brittany’s reading ability was far beyond anyone her age. We had a television in the bus but hardly ever watched it. I would tell the kids stories or read books to them every night. We went through the entire Little House on the Prairie series. Brittany would bring me the book every night and I would read to the kids until they fell asleep. Then I would love Jackie. I thought she was the most incredible woman in the world … perfect for Christopher Abraham Stohl.
Once we were finally in a place that we both felt was perfect for our situation, we started to get into a routine. Jackie was always at home watching the children while I was at work. When I would come home, the kids would rush the car and jump all over me … Brittany leading the way and little Caleb, who could barely walk, in Jackie’s arms to greet me.
This was the perfect life for me.
At this time, I knew that because of what Paula had done with my dad (lied to get me arrested) she was not good for the kids. Now I had a good reason to keep the kids from her. After the failed arrest attempt, Paula would later tell me that she never expected to see the kids again until they were older and looked for her. Had I remained Christopher Abraham Stohl, I would have never tried to let the kids see Paula, fearing another terrible episode. If they wanted to find and know her when they were adults, that would be fine with me, as my job to raise them would be over.
Barely a year would pass after the Sheriff incident, before I would finally understand why “God” had fucked up my brain like it was.
I was supposed to be Christopher Marc Nemelka … the ONE AND ONLY TRUE MESSENGER for this world.
I mentioned in a previous chapter how I was working on installing the plumbing in a house when I was approached by a couple of guys. At first, I thought they were looking for work. Then, they introduced me to a couple of other guys. Then, they told me who they were and that they had been following me ever since June of 1987.
Following me for what? Why? Why wait so long to introduce themselves to me?
They informed me that they had to wait and see how I was going to use the knowledge of Real Truth that I had been given. What was I going to do with it? Would I use it to aggrandize myself, to make money from it, to put myself above others as an important person? For four years they watched me and observed incognito and from afar how I would respond to certain situations. They wanted to see how I would use my free will with the Real Truth that I was given.
They instructed me not to say anything to Jackie about meeting them. I had spent about a week with them during the course of my regular business. They would help me for free. In fact, they would give me money out of their own pocket. After a few days, they asked me to go away with them for a few days.
I went home and informed Jackie that I had to go somewhere. I didn’t tell her where.
They took me to Montana and told me to make things right with Paula. They showed me a piece of property that they had found in Victor, Montana, a short distance from where Paula’s grandparents lived in Stevensville. They instructed me to let Paula see Brittany and Joshua and do everything according to the law so that I could help them.
Help them do what?
They had explained who they were. They did not introduce themselves as the Three Nephites or John the Beloved, or I would have known from the start that they were lying to me. They have never … not once … ever lied to me … EVER! I know their real names. I know where they live, how they live, and what they do. I know that they have never lied to me because they trust me implicitly (completely).
They explained what they wanted from me. They introduced the idea of fulfilling the Book of Mormon prophecy about its sealed portion, as well as all of the other prophetic things mentioned in the Book of Mormon. Through me, they were going to fulfill all their Book of Mormon prophecy.
They explained the details behind the Book of Mormon, how they approached Thomas Jefferson first. When Jefferson wouldn’t get on board with them, they found a popular Christian preacher and writer, Ethan Smith, to help them. Ethan Smith (no relation to Joseph Smith) didn’t agree with the way that they wanted to effectuate a change in the Christians’ mindset by introducing new scripture. Rejected by both of these men, they knew of a young teenager who claimed to have been contacted by God and taught many truths.
They knew of Joseph Smith, Jr.’s brain transfiguration the same way that they knew about mine: through highly advanced technology that they carried with them from the ancient past … technology that wasn’t available to Joseph Smith, but would be available in my day: cell phone technology that could track a person through their DNA profile. (This incredible shit is coming soon to this world.)
Basically, they convinced me that the only way that the world was going to change was if we could change what people think by utilizing the way that made them think the way that they do. In order to change a person’s perspective of things, they taught me how they were going to present things according to a person’s perception of things.
Those few who control this world have one perception of things: God and religion. They explained how they were going to use this perception to create a new perspective. This was exactly why they had created the Book of Mormon through Joseph Smith. Their intent was to get the early European-American Christians to change their perspectives, first about the dark-skinned native Americans and the Africans, and then about poverty and inequality.
In order to convince people that no one upon Earth should be living in poverty, the people in power, who control politics and religions that form and support economic systems, must be convinced that all people on Earth are equal in God’s eyes … at least the God in which the Christian nation of early Americans believed.
Their Book of Mormon had failed. Its failsafe was its sealed portion. Joseph Smith, Jr. helped them publish the Book of Mormon, and was murdered because of it. They wanted me to help them publish its failsafe.
“And get fucking murdered, too?” I remembered asking them. (They’ve never had a problem with my profane mouth, but have counseled me to tone it down at times.)
They explained to me that they would protect me at all costs … also in fulfillment of what they prophesied in their Book of Mormon, which was plagiarized directly from the Bible (Isaiah).
Check out this important clue about their True Messenger and their work, a Marvelous Work and a Wonder®:
“For in that day, for my sake shall the Father work a work, which shall be a great and a marvelous work among them; and there shall be among them those who will not believe it, although a man shall declare it unto them.
But behold, the life of my servant shall be in my hand; therefore they shall not hurt him, although he shall be marred because of them. Yet I will heal him, for I will show unto them that my wisdom is greater than the cunning of the devil.” (BOM, 3 Nephi 21:9-10)
Now, the modern LDS/Mormons might try to convince you that the above prophecy was about Joseph Smith, Jr. Nope! Joseph was more than “marred because of them.” Joseph was more than hurt! He was murdered!
This clue was all about the guy who would bring forth the sealed portion and perform “a great and a marvelous work among them.”
They asked your bat-shit crazy Grandpa, Christopher Marc Nemelka, not Christopher Stohl, to be their guy. And it is more than true, that over the years since this first meeting, I have been “marred because of them” many times, not only by my family, but by the court system of partial and prejudiced Christian judges who don’t like the things that I do … like, tell them that their Jesus is actually from the devil. Yep.
They have protected me for many years now. They have involved themselves with others to support and protect me. Working behind the scenes, these four immortals have “work[ed] a work, which shall be a great and a marvelous work among [the people of Earth.]” They have explained the perfect plan for eliminating poverty which, in turn, will decrease inequality among humans until there can be peace upon Earth.
Their “wisdom is [so fucking] great[er] than the cunning of [my enemies and critics].”
My life has always been in their hands. They have protected me and will continue to protect me so that I am not hurt or killed, until I have completed the role which they asked me to do in April of 1991.
We drove to Columbia Falls, Montana.
They knew where Paula and her new husband, Carl Ladenburg lived. While they waited in the car, I knocked on the front door. Paula and Carl were stunned to see me standing there. Paula had just had another child, a daughter, Alyssa. She was holding Alyssa when I explained to them that I wanted to fix things and let them see Brittany and Joshua whenever they wanted. I told them about my plans to move to Victor, Montana, and that they could come and see the kids anytime and take them to Paula’s grandparents’ house nearby, or take them according to the normal visitation rights outlined by the courts.
(My mentors always reminded me to obey the law and court order in all things … something that, if I didn’t do, caused me to be “marred because of them” … oh fuck … But anyways.)
I told Paula and Carl Ladenburg where we were living in Kent, Washington and that they could come anytime to see the kids. I asked if I could hold Alyssa. I did. We ended the meeting with smiles and hugs. I felt really good about making amends with Paula. It was never my intention to keep the kids from her … as long as she acted in the best interests of the kids, as I thought their best interests should be.
My mentors had convinced me that Paula should always be an important part of Brittany’s and Joshua’s life. I accepted their offer to be their True Messenger, so I did what they asked of me … at first.
We drove back to Kent, Washington and I said goodbye to the Brothers (a name I would come to call them throughout the years). They returned to Montana to see about the place where they wanted me to stay, build a house, and become situated in order to help them.
Jackie had no idea where I had gone for the last couple of days. When I told her that I had gone to Montana and met with Paula, her face turned as white as a ghost. She did not understand. I couldn’t explain it to her. But, as Jackie always did, she trusted me.
Over the next few years, I would leave Jackie periodically. She never knew where I went. Now she does. Jackie’s one of my enemies and critics now. But she cannot deny that I would take off for short periods of time, never explaining where I was going. Now she knows, whether she believes it or not.
Grandkids, people hate me because everything that I represent destroys the things that bring them value and give them purpose in life. They hate when I claim to be the ONLY True Messenger on planet Earth. This is true, even though there are four other mortals who know what I know. They aren’t messengers. They don’t deliver a message … only I do …
When I claim to be the only one who knows the Real Truth, then all the “Jacks” in the world who think they know something, to whom all the “Jills” in the world look for answers, lose considerable value and self-worth. If what I say is true, then what they say is false.
The Real Truth is:
Everything about this current world is wrong. There should not be any families. There should not be genders. There should not be sex. And there most certainly should not be money and economic disparity that makes it hard for a human to live upon Earth and exercise their individual free will. (All this will be explained in detail in their final book, The Dream of Mortal Life, Understanding Reality–A Final Warning to the Human Race.)
When you die, you will find out who you REALLY are. The real you is the same person you were before you connected to a mortal brain and started dreaming the experience of mortal life. This real you was not gendered before the mortal you were born. This real you will not be gendered after you wake up from this mortal dream. This real you does not belong to any family unit, except the one to which 15.07 billion of others belongs. Once you get this Real Truth through your head, your mind might finally open up enough to start understanding some very important things about this fucked up world.
The real you is and has always been the most important and significant person in your reality. But when you are conscious as a mortal, you have lost this sense of your real self. In this world, you are far from the most important and significant person … at least that’s what you feel and have been taught. Not knowing this fact about yourself, and not being treated by yourself or by others as the most important and significant person, your natural tendencies will always lead you to do things that make you feel like you’re the most important and significant person in your reality.
We feel this inclusion and importance when we isolate ourselves to a family unit. A family makes us feel like we are the most important and significant person in the world, at least as part of our family unit.
We feel important and significant when we think that others are looking at us as important and significant. We strive to be the best, to be educated, to do something good in this world. We want to change the world for the better. With this hope, we transmit emotions that make us feel important and significant.
Everything that we do in this life, everything that we believe, is a product of our true self‘s brain creating an experience that supports its true reality. If we lived in a world where everyone was just as important and significant as everyone else, none of us would be doing things that help us feel important and significant. Like little children, we would feel like the most important and significant person in the room.
Our True Self‘s advanced brain is reacting to its connection to the platform (mortal life) responsible for generating the connective nature of our mutual experience. Instead of finding peace and enjoying every moment of our mortal existence upon Earth, we are in a constant battle for self-recognition and to be valued as important and significant. We cleave to our family, we love our sport teams, we love our entertainers, we love to listen to songs, we love all the things that make us feel like we are a part of something bigger than ourselves … because alone, without these things, we do not feel significant, we do not feel important.
Our religions make us feel important and significant.
God loves us. Jesus loves us. God is aware of us and listens to our prayers. If God listens to our prayers, then God gives evidence that we are important and significant, in spite of what the world does, in spite of how others treat us. When we feel like we are not important and significant in the world, we can turn to family and to God. We can watch our favorite team. We can go to our favorite concert. We can listen to our favorite music. We can watch our favorite movie. We can do lots of things that artificially give us these feelings of value, a feeling that we belong and are important and significant.
We crave these things because we are!
Little children don’t give a shit about what family they exist in as long as they are loved, fed, and treated like they’re the most important and significant person in the family. While they’re little children they feel this way. Children learn what makes them important and significant. They learn what this current mortal life offers them as things that will make them important and significant.
Children are not taught who they really are and why they really exist. How can they be?
Their entire mortal experience is an involuntary dream experience generated in their advanced brain. And currently, there is nothing about this world that generates an equal feeling for all participants (like it did when we were little children) that each of us is equally valued and just as important and significant as everyone else.
I threaten the very things that give my father his value and purpose.
Here is a recent picture of the Michael James Nemelka’s family (2018):
(Missing from the above are my eldest Brother, Michael James Nemelka, II and most of his kids, and me and all of my kids.)
My father believes that this comprises his eternal family. He believes that he is the Patriarch of this family; that his priesthood power and authority gives him the right and the privilege to forever be surrounded by these people.
My dad sits in the middle in the blue shirt. My brother, Cory, sits to my dad’s immediate left, in the blue.
Is it any wonder, with what I know, and what is delivered in the message of my mentor’s “great and a marvelous work,” that these two men would hate me and be very uncomfortable with me?
Is it any wonder why they must believe that my mentors do not exist and that somehow, the devil entered my brain and has deceived me?
None of those pictured above have much importance and significance to this world. But to the Nemelka family, they do. All of these people in the above picture are not who they really are. When each dies, they will awaken as the incredible advanced humans who they really are: each equal, each significant, each as they have always been, each as they will always be … mortal worlds that were supposed to be without end.
I am not their son. I am not their brother. I am not their uncle. I am not their father. I am not your grandfather.
My dad was right. I am not Abinadi. I am not a prophet.
I am Christopher Marc Nemelka, the world’s ONE AND ONLY TRUE MESSENGER!
This is why so many people hate your grandfather.