For decades, the church spread its message through pirate radio stations, WLS superstations, and Mexican radio stations. In the cool of late-night evenings, their powerful signals reached deep into the heartland of America.
The World Tomorrow" radio program, presented by Herbert W. Armstrong, was broadcast on Mexican radio stations.
The World Tomorrow" radio program, presented by Herbert W. Armstrong, was broadcast on Mexican radio stations.
Specifically, the program was aired over the superpower 100,000-watt station XELO in Juarez, Mexico. This station, having an exclusive channel over the North American continent, could then be heard in virtually every state.
In addition, the broadcast was also carried by powerful border stations XEG and XERB, along with XELO.
One failed prophecy after another tore the church apart. When 1975 passed without event, the focus shifted to new time cycles and myths.
The church limped along, with prosperous years and lean ones.
Money was squandered in ways that would shock members even today if they knew the full extent.
Beneath the surface, it was a festering cesspool of corruption and deceit. Then, its vulnerability was laid bare.
Armstrongism’s greatest vulnerability wasn’t ex-members, dissidents, or the disfellowshipped—it was the internet and WiFi.
When the internet spread, the church’s tightly woven stories began to fray. Headquarters could no longer dictate the narrative. People shed their silence and fear of losing salvation. Ex-members, apostates, critical thinkers, and dissidents, wielding firsthand knowledge of the church’s wrongs, exposed it to scrutiny the leadership couldn’t stifle. They labeled it a “rumor mill” and tried to quash it. They couldn’t.
The truth exposed the church’s gaslighting and lies, which could no longer hold.
Armstrongism thrived on control, relying on members’ perceived ignorance. “Pay, pray, obey, and never question” was the mantra for decades. But with computers and smartphones, the church became a public embarrassment. Never in its history has the extent of its folly been so clear.
Today, the youth are slipping away—quietly, in groups, in waves—realizing fear, guilt, and fantasy aren’t needed to live a good life.
Armstrongism’s greatest vulnerability wasn’t ex-members, dissidents, or the disfellowshipped—it was the internet and WiFi.
When the internet spread, the church’s tightly woven stories began to fray. Headquarters could no longer dictate the narrative. People shed their silence and fear of losing salvation. Ex-members, apostates, critical thinkers, and dissidents, wielding firsthand knowledge of the church’s wrongs, exposed it to scrutiny the leadership couldn’t stifle. They labeled it a “rumor mill” and tried to quash it. They couldn’t.
The truth exposed the church’s gaslighting and lies, which could no longer hold.
Armstrongism thrived on control, relying on members’ perceived ignorance. “Pay, pray, obey, and never question” was the mantra for decades. But with computers and smartphones, the church became a public embarrassment. Never in its history has the extent of its folly been so clear.
Regular members are leaving too. Some mourn years lost, others feel grateful for their newfound freedom, and many are simply fed up with the lies.
For decades, the church warned that Satan and his forces—through the Catholic Church, world governments, or vast powers—would persecute them. Yet, the Church of God’s reckoning came from within, from its own members.
One thing is certain: the church will never recover. Not next year, not in five years, nor in fifty—if it even survives that long. Freedom and truth have a way of changing everything.
