Mar-Apr, Year of Our Lord, 1999
April 9, 10 and 11 at the Big Town Expo Hall; (Dallas) Mesquite, Texas.
April 16, 17 and 18 at Bartle Hall Conv Ctr-Hall D; Kansas City, Missouri.
By Paul Revere, Pastor
How does a routine police stop quickly escalate to include 16 squad cars and at least one helicopter, plus a riot team armed with shields, shotguns, tear gas and police dogs?
It starts off innocently enough. Seven of us are headed down Interstate 5 to Sacramento to a Preparedness Expo. It is Thursday afternoon, February 18, 1999, and we are about an hour south of Red Bluff, California. Glen Stoll, who is driving, wants his jacket removed. As we try to pull his sleeve off, we drift a little bit over to the left lane. It is nothing to be concerned about, there are cars far ahead and cars way behind us. But over in the median is a California Highway Patrol. He notices the motor home drive down two lanes. It is only for a few moments, but that is enough of an excuse to come after us.
The patrol car moves into the left lane and paces us. The Kingdom of Heaven license plates are obvious. We go with Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and Director over all our governmental affairs.
The flashing lights go on and we drive a quarter mile to the next exit. We choose not to stop on the freeway, for safety's sake. We take the exit and pull into the first gas station. Less than a minute has elapsed since the police first signaled us to stop.
Glen and I start to get out of the motor home to greet the officer. Glen looks behind him and gasps, "They've got guns. They're pointing them at us."
We hop back inside and close the doors. I look in my rear view mirror and there is a gun pointing right at me! Whew! What happened to the simple police stop where the officer approaches the car and asks to see your driver license? It didn't happen that way at all. They had guns trained on us immediately, before any dialog.
Glen says, "I'm not going anywhere." He yells to them, "You put those guns down. We're not coming out until you put the guns down." The police are yelling back, "Come out with your hands up and nobody will get hurt." More cop cars are arriving.
I smile over at Glen. "I know you have to do what you have to do, but I have to do what I have to do." Then I open up my door and get out. They start shouting orders to me, telling me to walk sideways and turn. The adrenaline is flowing so much I can't tell my right from my left - and there are guns pointed at me. Finally a cop puts handcuffs on me and takes me to a squad car.
I say, "Look, I don't understand what is going on here. We are a peace loving people. We have no weapons aboard whatsoever. You have no cause against me. I have done nothing worthy of being handcuffed." He would not talk to me. He takes me back to a police car where I have a front row view of the action.
A guy with a Russian fur hat is the officer in charge. He says to me, "We need to get this thing defused. I'm a Christian brother, too."
I repeat that we have no weapons aboard except the Word of God and that we mean no harm. He wants information but I tell him I do not know whether he will use the information against us or for us. Therefore, I will not provide information.
More and more cops are pulling out weapons and moving behind boxes or poles as they surround the motor home with their guns drawn. I remember the cellular phone in my pocket. Even though my hands are behind my back in handcuffs, I somehow get both arms over to one side and push the button on the phone for the Embassy of Heaven.
I reach Rachel. "The motor home is surrounded by men with guns drawn. Their system is failing unless their purpose is to get Christians. If that is their purpose, then the system is working well." A few minutes later Michael calls the Embassy from his cell phone inside the motor home with a progress report. Rachel calls our contact in California who gets the information on the radio, while the event is still in progress.
As all this is happening, there is a poor clerk working at the gas station. She sees cops everywhere. She is scared to death and hides behind a cigarette machine for a half hour, trembling.
I get the attention of the Russian officer in charge. "Hey, you want to get this thing defused?" He says, "Yeah, this thing is getting out of hand. I don't know what I'm going to do."
"You're going to kill people if you don't figure out something other than what you've been trained to do. What you need to do is understand us and then you will know what to do. First of all, we only recognize One Authority. And that Authority is Jesus Christ and His Headship."
"Oh, you don't recognize secular authority?"
"You've got it. And when you command us to do things, we're not going to do it. If you want to defuse this, put your guns down, go up to the driver with a big smile and say, 'Hi, brother in Christ! How would you like to come on out and discuss some things with us.' You'd be amazed what would happen."
"If I did that, he might shoot me."
"Then you lied to me. You told me you were my brother in Christ. If you're my brother in Christ, you would believe me. But since you're not my brother in Christ, you think I lied to you. And you're worried about your own life. As a Christian you are to give your life as a ransom for others and you are unwilling to do that. You're not a Christian."
He leaves tongue tied. He keeps trying to make decisions. Everything he does causes the affair to escalate. More guns are being pulled out. The neighbors are out watching with binoculars. It looks like his system is going to blow away a motor home full of Christians.
Inside the motor home are Glen Stoll, Abraham, Brooke Celeste, Skye Rose and Michael Peter Stevens. They keep hearing the cops shout, "Come out and you will not be hurt!" And the cops are getting hotter and hotter because no progress is being made. Abraham is thinking, "If we make one false move, we're Swiss cheese. These guys are going to blow us away."
He said, "We were all of the same consensus - just stay still. There was no way we wanted to make a move in that kind of explosive atmosphere." Brooke said they were treating us like bank robbers.
Meanwhile Glen is shouting, "I don't have a gun. What's the matter with you guys? Put your guns back in their holsters and I'll come out."
A cop shouts to Glen, "Come out with your hands up. All the guns are off of you!"
Glen replies, "You guys put your hands up and then I'll come out. I'm not putting my hands up unless your hands are up."
Suddenly, like the snap of a finger, the spirit changes. Directly ahead of me I see a most amazing sight. The cops are putting their hands up in the air. A cop with a shot gun puts it down on the ground, sits back and puts his hands up in the air. Men on all sides are returning their guns to their holsters and raising their hands. One cop has his gun in his holster and his hands up in the air, but his right hand keeps quivering. It comes down and wants to get at that gun. Then it starts raising up again. Glen is saying, "No, no, get your hand back up!"
Can you believe it? All the cops with their hands in the air! What a role reversal. It is a sight to be seen. The media arrives a few minutes later, too late to see the surrendering cops. The police are looking embarrassed as they set up a post to handle media questions. They are beginning to realize that they jumped the gun and overreacted. The story makes the front page of the local papers. See www.embassyofheaven.com.
One of the newspaper pictures shows the Kingdom of Heaven license on the motor home and parked next to it a California Highway Patrol license number 906665. How fitting for a cop car to bear the number of the beast.
As I sit handcuffed in the back seat of the squad car, over the air comes the voice of a man I could see up ahead talking into his microphone. "Yes we have a motor home and it has a license issued by the Kingdom of Heaven by the Department of Iniquity." The cop is a little confused. Yes, our plates say "Kingdom of Heaven" on the top, but on the bottom we have the slogan, "Depart from Iniquity." It is from 2 Timothy 2:19. The Lord knows them that are His. They have this seal. They depart from iniquity.
When all the cops' hands are finally in the air, Glen comes out. Then the remaining occupants come out one by one. As soon as each of them comes out the door, they are handcuffed. Skye's motto is, "I am not going to resist them, but I won't obey them either." They command her to put her hands up, but she does not. She does keep her hands visible.
When Glen comes out, they angrily beat him to the ground and start stomping on him. He cries out in pain. They are giving him a lesson on the consequences of not being obedient to them. We are all taken to the Glenn County Jail.
by Skye Revere, Age 15
While we were still being surrounded at gunpoint, I turned to Michael Peter Stevens and said, "I've never been to jail, and I know I should be really scared of these guys, but I'm actually curious about what this 'big bad jail' is all about. Do you think they will handcuff me even though I'm a kid?"
Michael thought they might. I started remembering back when I was eight. Dad had bought me a pair of toy handcuffs because I wanted to see if I could slip my hands out of them.
I had my chance with real handcuffs a few minutes later when I was moved into a police van and handcuffed. As I sat waiting to go to jail, I started twisting my hands to slip them through the cuffs. I was shocked. After a couple minutes I was actually able to wriggle my hands out of the handcuffs. My hands were really sweating which helped make it easier and the woman who had handcuffed me did not put them on too tightly.
When Michael saw that my hands were free of the cuffs he said, "Hey, you better not do that." So I put them back in the handcuffs. But this time I put my hands in front and cuffed them. Originally, I had been handcuffed with my hands behind me and that was very uncomfortable and hurt my wrists.
When we arrived at the jail, the woman who had handcuffed me tried to unbuckle my seatbelt, but somehow I had gotten the seatbelt wound around the handcuff so that I couldn't get out. The woman was quite puzzled. She must have been thinking, "Okay, I handcuffed her before I put her in the seatbelt, why is the seatbelt entwined in the handcuffs?"
I solved the problem by slipping out of the handcuffs right in front of her. "Oh no, you're going to hurt your hands. Let me unlock them for you."
Just for the fun of it, I slipped the handcuffs back on so that she could have the pleasure of unlocking them.
When we arrived at the jail, Brooke and I were put in separate cells. They took me in a little back room office with several computers and two chairs. This nice woman comes in and says, "I'm your probation officer. I'm a juvenile counselor." She thinks she can get information from me by being sweet. She wants to find out how old I am. They don't want to put a juvenile in the adult jail.
The counselor is trying to make me feel comfortable with small talk. "My job is to get you out of here," she says. "And if you don't tell me your birthdate, then I can't get you out of here and you're going to stay in here for the rest of your days." I responded, "God is my Deliverer."
Oh, she hated that because she thought she had power over me.
Meanwhile detective Jones kept bursting in and firing questions at me. It was the "good cop, bad cop game." They were playing each other off to see who could get me to break down and give them information. I didn't know what to do. Finally I thought, "Okay, I'm going to trust in God. Whatever He tells me to say, I'm going to say."
After the counselor found she could not get information out of me, she tried being sneaky. "Well, I'm a Christian." Everybody there was saying they were Christians. "I go to church every Sunday. Maybe I'm wrong, could you just explain your beliefs?"
That sounds innocent, but do you think she really cared about my beliefs? No, she was trying to get information. That was her goal. She continued, "If they would have told me what we're doing, I could have brought my Bible and we could have had a nice little Bible study." I didn't give them the information they wanted. After the counselor finished, they took me into the main room for fingerprints.
They told me to stand in front of a different colored part of the wall. I didn't realize they were going to take my picture. Dad was watching me through a window and he signed to me, "Don't do that." The woman officer yelled, "Get him out of here! He's signing to her." I'm not sure if they took my picture or not. I was looking away from the camera and over at Dad.
A jailer wants to obtain my picture and fingerprints. "My picture and my fingerprints are the property of Jesus Christ."
He says sarcastically, "Yeah, sure, we'll share them with Him."
"My God is a jealous God."
"Okay, we'll give Him the better half."
"Look, God already has my fingerprints. Besides if He wanted them, He wouldn't use brute force to get them."
He just mumbles to himself and walks off.
Over at the fingerprinting desk is a female cop. She thinks, "Here is this girl and they don't know if she is a juvenile or an adult, but they suspect she is just a kid. I can handle a kid. She won't be any trouble. This will be easy."
I'm thinking, "What do I do? If I resist, they are just going to bring in more cops and maybe break my fingers." An idea comes into my head, "Why not smear them? Give them the worst copy possible since I can't resist them."
The female cop takes one finger and dips it on the ink and then presses it to the paper. Immediately, I smear it. She goes for the same finger to do it on the next sheet and as it is smeared, all the sheets fall to the ground.
A young cop offers to help her out. They are both trying to get the prints, but it is not working. She keeps trying to get a good set of prints, but somehow she breaks her fingernail. Now all the cops start laughing at her.
There is this big burly guy and he thinks, "Okay, I'm going to handle her." He says, "Let's try pressure points."
I can handle pain without looking like it is painful. I am no cry baby. The lady officer tries to find a pressure point on my wrist. She keeps saying, "How do we cut off blood circulation so she can't smear the prints?"
She wants to make my hand numb. She finds the pressure point right off and, oh my, it hurts. But my face is casual. She cannot tell I am in pain. She says, "I must not have it," and she tries again. This time she hits a point that hardly hurts and I grimace. This big guy takes my upper arm, squeezing so hard it causes bruises. He tries to get my finger on the paper after the ink, and I smear it again.
Now it is starting to get fun and a smile crosses my face. I almost start laughing. The guy across from me says, "Hey, she's laughing. She's having fun!" I try to keep my face glum, but it really is funny. I have a big audience watching - jailers, the counselor and the Embassy staff.
After many attempts, they finally settle for a set of smeared prints. Someone says, "Who is going to sign these? They look like an amateur took them. I don't want to put my name on them."
by Brooke Revere, Age 19
They put me in a cell where there was a window overlooking the fingerprinting area. I just sat down and laid low, watching everything that happened. First they fingerprinted Skye. I was able to watch, but I could not clearly hear what was going on. After they were unsuccessful with her, they decided to torture the men. They started with Abraham. He said, "These fingerprints belong to Jesus," and he kept saying the name "Jesus." All of a sudden he started screaming because of the excruciating pain. They lit into him using pressure points and jerking his hand up behind his back.
Abraham kept screaming. I had never in all my life heard a man scream. I didn't even know it was possible. Men are usually too modest. The screams echoed and reverberated all through the concrete jailhouse.
Suddenly Glen and Dad started singing hymns. It was similar to the movies where they have a torture scene and beautiful music playing in the background. I just wanted to cry.
It looked so painful for Abe. I heard them laugh in scorn, "You're just acting like a little two-year-old." They apparently got what they wanted and hauled him away.
Next they brought in Michael. He fought them verbally, but finally let them take his prints and picture. Then they brought in Glen. His ordeal was even more heart wrenching than Abe's.
They were angry at Glen because he had refused to come out of the motor home, then Skye had ruffled them, and Abe had upset them. They wasted no time in venting their hostility. They immediately began applying pressure points to Glen. It was horrible to see the pain being inflicted.
In the meantime, I sat there watching. My turn was coming. A feeling came over me strongly, "Am I doing the right thing?" These people are awfully convincing. And intimidating. They are unkind. They seem to know what they are doing. Do I know what I am doing? I'm standing for Christ, the Highest King on earth, yet I feel like I am the most terrible thing that ever walked. These people talk to me like I am an absolute sinner.
Once you get out of jail, these feelings change. But when you are in that hostile situation, the temptation to fold is so strong, it is unbelievable.
I looked over at the concrete wall. In the cracks I noticed a little bit of graffiti. Just as my faith was failing me, I leaned over and read, "ONLY GOD JUDGES US." And I said, "Amen." God put that there, I know.
They had tortured everybody in front of me and things were looking pretty grim. They kept inflicting pain on Glen, but they did not get his fingerprints. They took him back to the cell. I peered out the window to see what was going on. He disappeared in the cell, and I heard screaming again. That terrible sound of men crying out in pain. This time it was Glen and someone else.
"What are they doing now?" I wondered. I couldn't see him, but I could see all the guards filing into his cell. Then came more cries of men in agony. "Oh no! What are they doing? Now they are torturing more than just Glen. Are they killing them? This is really bad, and I can't see what is going on. It must be something horrible."
by Pastor Paul
Glen was thrown back in the cell that I was also occupying. He was crippled up pretty bad and in terrible pain. I held out my arms to him in brotherly love. Glen looked up and saw me with my outstretched arms and hobbled over. We embraced each other. Suddenly the jailers came unglued! They could not stand to see me comforting Glen. "Break it up," they yelled. I looked at them as I continued to hug Glen and asked, "What is wrong with you folks? Can't you even learn from seeing us embrace that we are to love one another? We are to be good to one another. Can't you get it figured out?"
One of the big guys, a huge fellow, took his fist and swung down between us and hit hard right down on our chests. Oh, did it hurt. They used brute force to break us apart, beating up both Glen and me. We both cried out in pain.
My hand started immediately swelling. My back was wrenched. My chest hurt. I wasn't sure if anything was broken. "Maybe I should just lie on the floor and cause them a doctor bill or two," I thought. "No, I'm not going to do unto them what they have done unto me."
I didn't know what would be happening next. The mood seemed to change a little. They had me stand in front of the fingerprinting machine. I'm thinking, "I'm going to get my fingers busted. I'm not looking forward to this experience."
I decided to speak up again. "Look guys! You have no cause against me. I've done nothing worthy of being here. I've broken neither man's law, nor God's law. I have cooperated in every aspect that the law requires. You guys need to quit this immediately and release me now."
A young, cocky fellow spoke up, "Well, we are going to do what we want to do!"
I started shaking my finger at him, like you shame a child. "Look buddy! You better start changing and you better start doing right because it is going to come back on you!"
"Well, I don't care," he said smugly.
Then I said something I've never said. I've always been a slave of Jesus Christ and I've never talked about my rights, but for some reason I said, "You better start caring because you guys are violating my rights as a man of God."
Another voice said, "We're not violating your rights - not yet."
Then suddenly everything came to a halt. They escorted me over to another cell separate from Glen. I didn't know what was going on. I started walking in circles. I finally saw Skye on the outer area and I signed to her, "I love you."
I see Sergeant Vega debriefing his staff. I overhear him: "Yeah, we've got some real problems. Embassy of Heaven has a huge internet site out there at www.EmbassyOfHeaven.com. They've also got people broadcasting the incident over the air. Our phones have been ringing off the hook with people who heard about the arrest and want them released."
That phone started ringing before we even arrived at the jail because Rachel contacted our radio people. Mark Kornke interrupted his program on Republic radio to announce our traffic stop at gunpoint. Even after we were out, the jail phones kept on ringing for 12 hours. Thanks to all of you who made those calls. The jail was having a hard time getting anything done. Usually they get away with doing their wicked deeds in a dark corner. But this time the Body of Christ let them know there were many eyes watching them.
Everyone was released that evening, except Glen Stoll, the driver. He was held over the weekend and released on Monday. All charges were dropped, except for two minor traffic infractions. Brooke was spared from any attempts to obtain her fingerprints. We made it to the Preparedness Expo just as it was starting on Friday. We were able to retrieve the books and tapes we use for evangelizing, as well as all our Kingdom of Heaven documents and license plates. We have still not been able to retrieve the motorhome. The California Highway Patrol is insisting that it be registered with one of the fifty states before they will release it.
By Skye Revere
After fingerprinting, the counselor and another cop handcuff me and drive me to juvenile hall. When we arrive, the woman at the counter starts asking me questions. The counselor is still hanging around and she says, "Now Skye, the only way you're going to get out of here is by giving us the information we need."
I said again, "God is my Deliverer."
Right at that moment the woman at the counter receives a phone call for the cop.
"Release her. They are all being released."
The cop asks, "Upon what authority?"
The counselor says, "It looks like God is on your side this time."
"Yes, and I did not give you all that information you wanted."
Our 19-year old daughter, Brooke, recently visited friends in Seattle for a couple weeks. She wrote to her sister the following thoughts about the Kingdom within.
Skye, hello there! I just visited your site from Glen's computer. It's great and loads much faster on his system. No wonder people want you to build web sites for them.
Just to let you know, this trip has been marvelous for me. Whether I go to college or not, I needed this trip to prepare for my future.
I had no idea how easy it is to be by yourself. Inside, you never really leave. You are still the same person, even when your surroundings change. Remember that phrase, "Help! I'm trapped in a human body!"? It has become very real to me now. Just think, you never leave this body, no matter where you go. You can't escape, you can't run away, you can't break out, you can't bring anyone in. You're stuck, along with any feelings or worries that you allow to come in.
The only guests that can penetrate your walls are thoughts and concepts. You and your thoughts are always alone. While I've been on this trip, I took a look around at the guests that I've been harboring, and decided to do some serious housecleaning. I didn't like some of the guests that I've allowed to board in my house.
Bitterness and Resentment were rather easy, they hadn't been here long and they didn't have much luggage to pack. Boredom and Uselessness fled before I got to their room, and now I am cleaning the mess they left behind.
But Worry and The-Future-Is-Dim have slammed their doors in my face and refuse to unlock them. I will have to call the locksmith, Prayer, and the moving van company, Hope, to evict my unwelcome guests.
I have been repainting and improving some of my rooms so Contentment and Ever-At-Peace will feel more at home here. I would have done it sooner, but Procrastination gave me some trouble. He was in the habit of dumping his garbage in the hall, making it difficult to do anything. I'm trying to get that corrected.
Disappointment was always vandalizing my house, though I caught him and his accomplice, Vanity, red-handed. Vanity seemed like such a gentle and harmless creature, until I realized that she was the one opening her window for Disappointment to sneak in.
I didn't realize how much responsibility it is to be a landlord. I tried to shut myself up in my bedroom and let the rest of the house run itself. But while living in a new environment, I awakened to the realization that a small Kingdom inhabits my own soul. Either I can let it run wild, or I can take responsibility for it. I choose how to run my Kingdom and who I entertain. I pray that with Christ's help, my little household will be a better place to live in the years to come.
See you soon, sis. Love you a lot!
March 10, 1999
Embassy of Heaven Church
Greetings in the precious name of Jesus our Lord. I received your cassette tape about being stopped at gun point. The enemy is becoming more corrupt all the time.
I have been having new experiences also. I was supposed to appear at the Hamilton County jail motel in November 1998, but I don't volunteer for some things very well.
On February 4, 1999, two officers appeared at the door to take me for a vacation. As they did not have a warrant for my arrest, I refused to go with them. I went back into the apartment. They pursued me, breaking into two doors. I had just gotten into the bathroom and pushed the door shut, without latching it, when they burst into the room, throwing me across the bathtub and breaking two ribs and partially collapsing my lung. I spent about six days in the hospital and am still under the care of a doctor.
A deputy sheriff came to me in the emergency room with his tape recorder, informing me that I was still in his custody and should not try to run away, as it would add more to the charges.
I appreciate that he made that commitment, as they are getting all the bills for that which they caused.
Hoping this finds you all well and happy in the Lord.
Cleve Wesley: Stutzman
Notice: Beware of this 76 year-old man. He is very dangerous; approach carefully. He is armed with the Word of God.
Update: On March 12, 1999, a County Deputy stopped Cleve while he was traveling and took him to the county jail. He was later transferred to the State Penitentiary in Lincoln, Nebraska where he is serving a 90-day sentence on charges related to his traveling under the authority of the Kingdom of Heaven. Cleve's address at the penitentiary is:
Cleve Wesley Stutzman
PO Box XXXXXX
The penitentiary phone number is: (xxx) xxx-xxxx.
Call today and urge them to release this elderly man who is being persecuted for his faith.
If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are ye; for the spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you: on their part he is evil spoken of, but on your part he is glorified.
1 Peter 4:14
My dad just completed 21 days on the Lemonade Diet and lost 20 pounds. He went from 185 pounds down to 165. He lost all his arthritic symptoms. Because his feet and knees no longer hurt, he is walking a mile a day. He will be 85 in May.
This all happened after my mom passed away November 30 after a long year of diabetes, congestive heart failure and ultimately kidney failure, gradually worsening. Dad cared for her at home with my brothers and me going home often to help. She was a wonderful sweet lady and is happy with the Lord now. Dad was after her all the time to do cleanses, drink more water, take her vitamins, etc., but she just wasn't game for much of it.
Dad reread Cleansing or Surgery 1-1/2 months ago to recommend the Intestinal Cleanse to a friend. In the process he got excited about the Lemonade Diet, which he had done for 11 days a couple years ago.
A week before he finished this last 21-day lemonade cleanse, he called and said, "This is the best thing I could have done for myself. When Mom died I was so despondent and didn't care whether or not I went on. Now I not only feel great physically, I have a whole new outlook on life. My goal is to live to be 100. I plan to do this cleanse for seven to ten days, three or four times per year like the preacher suggests." He respects you so much.
Thank you, Paul. God bless you, your family, and all.
Enclosed is the funds for 10 copies of Cleansing or Surgery to give to my children and friends. I consider your little book worth more than the dozen I already have of other publications. Thank you.
E.H. South Dakota
A minister was thrown in jail for preaching without a license. One day, he received a letter from his wife: "I have decided to plant some lettuce in the back garden," she wrote. "When is the best time to plant?"
The minister, knowing that the prison guards read all the mail, replied: "My dear wife, whatever you do, do not touch the back garden. That is where I buried all the gold."
A week or so later, he received another letter from his wife. "You wouldn't believe what happened! Last night some men came to the house with shovels and dug up the entire back garden."
The preacher wrote another letter back. "My dear wife, now is the best time to plant the lettuce."
Taken from Heavenly Humor compiled by the Embassy of Heaven.