It’s 2023 and I’m Monty Smith and this is how I came across Christopher’s work in a Texas prison in 2006.
I didn’t start out Mormon and I wasn’t raised in a religious home, but ‘was’ given the choice. As a teenager, I wasn’t sold on religion, I leaned toward creation, I guess.
Moving into my 20’s, I started to consider more seriously the possibilities of both religion and science, but both had too many unanswered questions, so I remained confused and unsure. But, I wanted to know. I wanted the truth.
I met a girl in my late 20’s (Kim) who was religious, and I started to lean more towards the religious possibility, a lot because of her. We moved together to southern California from Colorado. Her advice on how you pick a church stuck with me when I finally started my own search, still while in California, and now after my relationship with her. She told me she picked her church by going in and “tasting their waters,” (so to speak). If she was comfortable, she stayed and if not, she moved on to the next.
Well, I followed that advice and began to try different churches. Needless to say, I was disillusioned. The Catholics, the Protestants, and non-denominational churches…, well, let the circus begin I thought. I especially liked the bands rocking the walls of many churches I attended. “Let there be confusion, and rock music too” I guess. I never found that comfort zone in the churches I sampled out there (typical of that time period everywhere), and eventually I moved from there.
In my late 30’s, and chasing a job, I ended up coming here to Arizona from California (1988). I got the job and I went to work for an all Mormon employed company. I didn’t know the Mormon connection when I got the tip in California about this job.
Anyway, I had questions, and they had answers, so I read the Book of Mormon (BOM) and felt the promised spirit. I joined their church (1989), married, and began climbing to the top in my local ward. I became a high priest, ward mission leader, was going to bishopric and stake meetings, even a temple veil worker, all with my ready made Mormon family. Yep, I was hooked deep.
Now in the late 90’s (about 8 or 9 years after joining the church) I began experiencing a lot of relationship issues and I found myself in a bad frame of mind, a real bad frame. At that time, I was struggling enough to attempt suicide (Crystal Drano, not the greatest on throats, but a guaranteed chopper ride to the hospital). Then following that, I ended up committing a crime while in this bad state of mind, that landed me in prison and ended that life as I was experiencing it. I lost it all. 15 flat.
BUT, while I was in prison, I came across its replacement in 2006, “The Sealed Portion”.
First, let me go back a bit.
When I first got to prison and was placed on a yard, and was able to get property sent in, I had scriptures sent in, and I started requesting church attendance right away. The Mormon thing isn’t as up and going as the regular church services on most yards in prison, at least back then in the late 90’s. (A side note, it was hard to get someone from the church to come in for us.)
On my third yard (2005), the church services were going pretty good for the Mormons. We had a man that wanted to be there for us and never missed a week. It was there that I met a guy I would consider one of my best friends. At least in prison he was, and maybe any I’ve had on the street. He was a nice guy, well above Mormon standards. Sadly since prison, we’ve never talked though. I’m just taking a guess that it’s because of the book thing. I did try to get him to read it. Of course, this evaluation of “good” was being made before I had the proper measuring stick. For someone lacking the truth though, he was as good as they come in our world for friends. We hung all the time, and ended up together on the next 2 yards we were on. (They like to move the inmates around in Arizona a lot.) So, we were together on consecutive yards for 8 years. More on this friend in a minute. I’ll continue to address him as friend; his name is Ryan Ellsworth.
Going back to my story, I had read a lot of church history prior to going to prison. I actually never read at all before I joined the church and didn’t even like to read, but became interested in its history, which hooked me on reading. From there, I started seeing the little things at first that would raise questions in my mind.
Of course, the first question raised came because of the BOM. What was up with the promised Sealed Portion? The answer given, “because the church wasn’t worthy”. After reading about some of their history, I agreed, but somehow felt the current church wasn’t like its former church. It was better. We were better. Now, in reading church history, I found it held so many events, that for me, didn’t paint that history in a good light for the church, which I know effected how I started viewing it. I just didn’t see the shift in my thinking at the time, but it was coming.
When I arrived in prison all I really had to read then was my BOM, well, after I got one sent in (Quad). Of course I got to read a whole lot more while in prison, a whole lot, and I had to get most of anything church related sent in that I was interested in. Not much Mormon stuff available in prison. A side note: because I had all this free time, the advantage was that I got to read and reread all the MWAW books when they came to me (starting in 2006), most, over 15 times, and a few I should have memorized, I’ve read them so many times. The BOM can be added to the list, a book I’ve read a lot, and a handful of times before I showed up behind bars, which I’m sure helped set me on the path to start questioning things. (NOTE: I was questioning things, but I never saw what the work has opened my eyes to see now, and I know I never would have, and I “will” admit it.) All I now knew at that point is, I had an appetite for reading, and now Chris was putting out books that were well worth reading to me. I couldn’t get enough, and I just kept rereading them until he finished another. Side note: You never need a night light in prison, as they never turn the lights off.
Reading was the difference. Reading church history started opening my eyes. Things weren’t lining up. I had already started questioning things openly to others in the church about things that were off. I saw many issues that made me start to think. Brigham Young stood out to me as a very questionable person as an example, especially being a prophet of God, even without ever hearing of the “work’, and what it reveals about him. Actually, he was a piece of shit, evidenced in the church’s own history.
I thought hard on the things I read in the BOM that the church didn’t seem to concern themselves about, “like” The Sealed Portion. It really troubled me that no one in the church seemed to care about reading and studying Isaiah and Revelation as the BOM said to do. No one I ran into in the church was “likening the scriptures to themselves” as the book repeatedly said to do, no one. Few were even reading it at all. That was quite obvious.
I’ll admit though, even as a temple worker, I never saw the endowment presentation correctly either, the result of letting the church do my thinking, at least for a time anyway. The more I read, the more that changed.
While serving my time in Arizona, several hundreds of us were sent to the state of Texas over a housing issue Arizona was having at the time. Their prisons were overstocked, and still are. My Mormon friend, who was also caught up in it and moved with me and the others, told me one day some months after we became Texan’s, (-: that another inmate had a book, and I should read it. I’m now certain my friend at least knew what was being touted as what the book was, but it didn’t translate that way to me and I thought it was another non church publication, and probably anti. Well, let’s just say I didn’t know what it was yet, but TSP wasn’t on my list of what I thought it was going to be.
My friend knew I liked to tear up the books that opposed the church, and he expected me to tear this one up too.
By that time, I had a number of issues with the church over things I’d read and discovered, AND about the the way us “mormon criminals” were thought of by the good “Priesthood brethren”. In Texas, they did “rock paper scissors” to decide who would come in to see us. We mostly had to hold our own meetings.
On the most part, we were not important to the church, yet I still felt “the church was true” and needed defending, and I was their prison go-to guy). I now realize for sure my friend didn’t believe it was actually TSP, but he believed I would prove that it wasn’t, somehow. And he knew I loved that kind of stuff. Anyway, he got with the guy and arranged to get the book in my hands. I assumed the book was going to be anti-Mormon, but never did I realize how anti-Mormon this book would turn out to be, for those that understand why I say that.
So I got the book and saw it’s a pretty big book with the title, “The Sealed Portion” and the gold plates on the cover page. I was not expecting that. I believe that image had an impact on my thinking looking back. I opened it up and saw it pretty much looked just like my BOM, chapter headings, footnotes, and all.
There was something I was already checking out at that time, a method that was being used to determine authorship of books, like books with ghostwriters. This made me believe I was being given a tool from God, timed maybe to help me tear up this book by showing evidence of different authors, and thereby proving it fake—at least somehow finding a way, maybe even with the help of this method, I thought. At that time, I had been learning about the repetition of fill words being used as a way to identify authors with this method called Word Prints. Also, another thing I had been reading about at the same time was called Chiasmus, which I also applied to my project to serve up this book to its author (prove it wrong).
My discovery with Chiasmus was the incredible way, they (who I now know to be the Real Illuminati) used this style of teaching found in the BOM. It is where lessons are repeated in reverse order. A simple example of this reversal method is: when the going gets tough, the tough get going. These guys used this method to teach things in the BOM (and TSP) in incredible ways, and you likely never once noticed them. These studies are out there that applied these methods to the BOM, and the Chiasmus study of the BOM would be worth finding to check out.
I didn’t start to read the book at first. I read small groups of verses of course to create my word count for the test. I first identified different authors in the book, such as Mormon, for example. I would pick a number of fill words (at, is, and, the, was, etc.) and count how many times they were used within a certain number of words, say 1000 words attributed to Mormon. Then I would count out the same number of words from Mormon in the BOM, and counted up all the same fill words I used from TSP. Similarities in counts between authors meant likely matches in authors, according to the study.
I found this method was seemingly confirming that the authors were the same in both books, whether any of it was true or not. I spent a lot of time with this project I was on, trying to find something that would prove to me and my friend the book was a fraud.
By now I’ve started to read the book from the beginning. I believe the order of things were rearranged a bit from the spiral bound to a regular bond book, but I read everything that was before the first chapter first, then the rest. (I no longer have my spiral bound book, as I gave it to a man in prison named Dean. I know that seed sprouted and hopefully still grows. He still has personal issues that are effecting his life, so…) It seems I remember the book of Lehi maybe being before TSP itself, in that spiral bound copy, but no matter where I read it at that time, I read it and loved it when I did.
When I started reading these things, and believed what I was reading, I told my friend that, true or not, I felt it could get a person more in line to God’s will by following what it was saying, of course, up to the first chapters I’d gotten read. That’s exactly how I felt. It was great. I didn’t get far in the book fast, as I read and reread everything as I went. Even before I got more than 10 chapters into it, and now going on a couple of months down the road, I gave it back to my friend to give it back to its owner, with a thank you. I then had my sister contact the publisher about ordering a book for me. Back then, it could have been John Roh she talked to, who sent off my own copy of a spiral bound Sealed Portion. This goes back to the Widow’s Mite days, if I remember that right. I later got a regular bound book when they changed when Pearl Publishing took over.
John and Lily Roh started corresponding with me; where John did the legwork for me, Lily wrote me letters. And a few letters later, they sent me the 666 book, which had just been published. Now I had TSP and the 666 book. These two people did more for me back then than just write me letters and send me books. I see them as friends, even though we’ve never been face to face. I’ve always been interested in the book of Revelation, so it was right up my alley. I always read any books, or pamphlets about Revelation, all before my time in prison. So, this was a welcome surprise to get a book about a favorite interest there in prison.
I read the 666 book before I got to chapter 11 of TSP and the 666 book “sealed” it for me. I read it in a day or two, and then started again. I knew I was onto something important, even then when it was still about religion. I got back to reading TSP, now with my own copy. I didn’t have a clue where it was going to lead me, no one really did then I guess, but it’s always stayed on the truth in this evolution or change it’s taken. It’s never deviated from being about being good to others, and there’s the world’s proof.
Now, here I am, 17 years from that first reading in prison of TSP, hooked on that truth. Having the MWAW knowledge in my life has given me an edge that I can use to avoid the speed bumps in life, even if just a little. It’s helped me to have so much clarity on what’s important. I can now practice being less judgmental of others, as an example, and yes, it takes practice. I’ve been trained my whole life to be judgmental, and it “is” work for me to now change the way I’ve been all that life, and that change is continuing.
All of this has given me a guide to proper conduct, something I needed. BUT, I HATE that the world is choosing to ignore this information and things that could help our world, that would certainly help me, and that causes me sadness, and anger too, I guess, and that’s my personal problem. I know it would help the very things the world says it wants to see fixed, but it’s like they won’t see it right there before their eyes. It’s very frustrating. I’ve lived around 55 or so years of my more than 70 years, on my own, mostly in less than acceptable conditions. I’ve continually been a paycheck to paycheck person, and have never had it easy. I’m not looking for tears, but what would be nice is the Humanity Plan.
I, for one, could really benefit from the Humanity Party’s plan to supply the basic necessities to any who need it, and I for one could use it. It really hurts that, even my own family would not entertain the idea of such a plan, even when they know how it could help me, especially presently. And the world is singing their same song at this time, as well. Everyone’s comfy and cozy.
What happened to me there in Texas was a miracle of sorts I guess. Somehow, the Sealed Portion crossed my path. What action could possibly make that happen? Why me?
And my Mormon friend, well, he didn’t join me, …even when, by his hand, I got to read this incredible book that changed how I will view life, and those sharing it with me.
I may not be as happy as I should, but I’m grateful for what I’ve learned, and how I now view others, and life. Based on what I’ve learned, I know I can and will be a better person for the remainder of my time here, and I’m guessing that, after this life when it’s all over, only my true self will know the value, or not, of my actions upon earth. Will I have lived up to the expectations of my advanced self? Maybe. Maybe not. It’s tossed in the wind to be decided, I suppose.
But for me, it’s really difficult to know that no one cares about this work, when I know how much it would help our world. As soon as I started reading the Sealed Portion back in prison, I realized how I had been representing what I thought was, and what the world was teaching as good, that actually couldn’t be any farther from it, and this was a bigger picture than my present incarceration. I was on the wrong road, and I don’t think I was alone. I would never have figured it out on my own had I not been schooled, beginning that day in prison in 2006 with an incredible book, and now much more clear in these recent days with the Real Truth.
*************
I want to add a bit to my story. I want to bring up something that always keeps me wondering.
I don’t believe I’ve had any real outside help to get where my life has brought me, especially if I compare it to Joseph, or Chris in the ways they’ve received outside help. Timothy and everyone else has not needed to shoo a cow between myself and a bullet as an example. BUT, has my journey to this very spot solely been random chance. If not, I’m left wondering how much was inspired maybe, to allow things to occur to me. Did I (as an example) have to go to prison to come across the work, or did I have to be in prison to be willing to accept the work. Either way, was it orchestrated in some way that I would come across the Truth?
My first experience with the Mormon church isn’t even a memory. All I know is that I’ve seen a picture of me standing on Temple Square with the temple in the background. This is definitely evidence I can’t dispute. I’m not sure but I look to be about 2 or 3. Certainly clueless of where I was, but no doubt, in tow behind my parents who at some point felt the need to visit Temple Square. Were my parents unknowingly being impressed upon to take their family to Salt Lake? I’m sure I’ve heard comments made, or even conversations about Mormonism through my years, but I believe most were probably a positive thing because I didn’t have that Mormon fear people get.
Funny, I wonder what were the influences that followed over the years that may have formed my ideas and opinions about this church, and would what happened in these following years have been different had I never stood on Temple Square, as an example, of which I admit I have no memory of being there. Some things had to have happened to keep me on this Mormon path I believe I was on because I was open to it despite the negative views that came from people doubting my decisions. You know, the anti-Mormon sentiment.
As I was growing up, things had to have happened that had some connection to this church, but I don’t have hardly any memory of them with the exception of one. By now, I’m in my early twenties.
Before I get to it, I’ll say that I realize I must have had, at the very least, conversations about Mormonism with others, because I had opinions, and those opinions had to have origins, I just don’t remember them. All I know is, for me, it may have began on Temple Square somehow.
Now, let me set this up. I want to admit that I don’t remember having any black friends growing up, though I believe I must have known a few at my younger age going through school. I wasn’t a prejudiced person, nor was my family. They didn’t teach me racism, but I saw it around me in life. I just don’t remember having any black friends. I say this because regardless, I apparently had ideas and opinions not only about the Mormon church, but also about blacks and the church, and I heard them somewhere. So let me get to it.
Entering the second half of my twenties, and recently divorced, I was a regular bar hopper. I didn’t drink, really (another story), so I’d buy a beer and barely touch it (I hated the taste…goes with the other story), but my reason for the bars for me was to, 1. meet girls (recently divorced and horny, me not them), 2. dance, and 3. play Foosball (up and aspiring pro).
I went to a lot of bars around town (Denver setting) but my favorite was Sports Page, maybe the most popular bar at the time in town. Three levels and all open. Dance floor was on the middle level which was the main floor and the top level had a bar and tables mostly, all overseeing the dance floor below. The bottom level or basement mostly had things like air hockey, pool, and other arcade stuff but most importantly, Foosball tables. There were actually a couple of tables on the top level as well, and they come into the story in a bit. Foosball tables in a bar meant lots of people who wanted to play.
So on this one night, I meet a girl who likes to dance, play Foosball, and seemes to like me. She always kicked my ass on the table when we first met. I can no longer remember her name, Sheryl maybe, we never really dated, just met at Sports Page to dance and kick butts playing others. I was just learning though and going anywhere there was a table, but the bars had everything I needed at the time; hell, at any time. The Sports Page thing with this girl lasted only a few more months before I was given the invitation to move to San Diego with my brother and his family. I jumped on that and we moved to Rancho Bernardo where we sold bicentennial posters door to door to businesses along the beaches everywhere south of San Juan Capistrano to dog beach in San Diego. No businesses at dog beach actually. It was meant to express “everywhere”.
Of course, at night, I went to bars and anywhere I could find a table to hone my Foosball skills, this all in the summer of 1976, I believe it was. Actually, I started improving at Foosball pretty quickly, but also pretty quickly started wanting to go back to Denver and join back up with my female friend at Sports Page. The whole social thing never really took off in San Diego, and this began my moving phase. Over the next 10 years, I moved back and forth between Denver and Southern California areas 25 times. To name places I lived, the farthest north I went was Santa Clara just below Frisco, and south was Rancho Bernardo north of San Diego, my first town in California, but I resided in Bellflower, Garden Grove, Anaheim, Buena Park, Orange and Thousand Oaks, to name some. Anyway, I’d be in Denver and start longing for the beach, but when I’d get there, I was always disappointed in the people, so much that I even wrote a song I called “Mars” about California residents. So I’d run back to Denver, and I did this for ten years.
But the first time I ran back from California, and after San Diego, I did run into my female friend at Sports Page and the story had changed. Now I was kicking her ass pretty easily. All my California practice was showing. Anyway, we were upstairs at one of the tables they had set up on the top level. Her and I are playing for a few games now, and I’m beating her up pretty good. This upper level also had other mini levels for tables for drinks and the Foosball tables. There was a mini level that was a few feet higher than the table we were playing on, perfect place to watch the game.
So I’m kicking ass and this black man steps up and asks to challenge the winner. He knew it was going to be me because I saw he was watching us for a couple of games before he asked to play.
“Of course”, I said, so he set down his quarter. He moved to that height advantage up the few steps again to watch us play. Rich J. was and still is his name if he’s still living, we’re all aging. We became very good friends for a lot of years after that night. I’ll mention, he resembled a young Jimi Hendrix, in the day. This is that memorable story in my Mormon happenstances, since it’s been a while since I started this addition to my original story.
I was not too bad at the game (Foosball) compared to most, better than a lot maybe by that time, and of course I won my game with my female friend. This nice man never stopped smiling as he dropped in his quarter that began the game between us. And okay, I admit as good as I thought I was by that time, I never saw the ball again. Never. Did I say “Never”, cause that’s the facts, jack.
This guy was incredible at the game and in all the years we ended up hanging together, I never won a game against him, even after I got much better with his help. He’d play front, I’d play back in teams. I got good at blocking. I had one shot from the back that few could stop. Well maybe it’s two. It was either straight in, all the way from the back where I hung out, or it was a bank from the back no one could stop, but what I really got good at was passing to Rich, and he was really good at reading my shots and my passes. He could catch a fly out of the air and shoot it in with those animated mechanical soccer feet. Beside the fly, all I had to do was get the ball past the other guy and Rich would capture it and do things no one could follow, or believe. I know I could never. His game was 100% about ball control. It would move from my man (which ever man I was using at the time) to his man, to the hole in one fluid motion. If it could have ever been filmed, slow motion would be about the only way to see it happen. I was a two trick pony, but he had the moves. Fun to watch.
As I said, we became good friends, and good Foosball partners, and we bet all the time. We started getting into local tournaments (in town), then out of town, and even then to other states. I should mention here that we never won a single tournament, and we were actually pretty good. But I always choked in that setting. We’d play really good players in bars and arcades, etc., and always killed. But I could never handle the mental state you had to be in to play well professionally.
So anyway, one week we decided to go to a tournament taking place in Salt Lake City. Mind you I don’t believe either of us gave much thought to Mormon’s at that point, just that we were going there to play. My change that led me to the Mormon’s is mentioned coming up in a bit in this story. So we got there and headed straight to The Joseph Smith Memorial Building to sign up to compete. Needless to say, I choked as usual in our games. Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t lose “every” game, or “every” point, but we also were no where close because of me. Rich would be stern with me, but never made me feel bad because of it.
Anyway, after just an hour or two, and just across the street from Temple Square, we were now getting back in my Comet to go cruising the Salt Lake Streets, and deciding what was next.
We were still close to the Temple on one of those main streets (don’t remember the street name, I just know they’re all stupid names. We’re cruising along trying to decide what to do at that point. We talked about bars and arcades, (maybe we could still salvage the trip with a few bucks from some local table [betting] somewhere in town), and trying to plan, when we see this young guy driving next to us. I guess maybe our age actually. He seems to be staring at us, and no doubt by then, we were staring at him, wondering what the hell “he” was staring at, when just like that he pulls his steering wheel hard to the left and smashes into my door, while we’re driving down the road, probably around 35 to 40 miles an hour. Investigation showed a huge dent in my door following the attack. Luckily, the damage stopped at the door and Rich was none the worse for the ware, well, with the exception of nerves.
Bam, it happened so fast and at the next street he peels off to the right, and gone. Our mouths were dropped wide open. Rich says to me, “this is Mormon town, and they don’t like black’s”. We decided he wasn’t a fan of me either cause I had this terrible black man with me. We decided It was time to leave Salt Lake. And again, I want to add here that I don’t know what influences had to happen to get where I am today, but I wonder how they may have been different had I never visited Temple Square as a kid, or this event that took place in Mormon town USA?
I just want to say that for some reason, I seemed to believe some of the same things about Mormons and blacks. Of course, now I know the reason for the story, but at this time, we didn’t and decided for our safety to get out of Dodge.
I have to say, in literally 25 moves between Colorado and California, it’s now very hard to keep time lines straight, but in one of these moves to California, I asked another girl I met in a different bar in an outskirt of Denver, called Arvada, “at a Foosball table” to go with me to California because I’d already made plans to leave in a couple of weeks, and I wanted this girl in my life. Kim D. I remember “her” name. Because of her influence, I decided to get serious about religion which led me to the Mormon’s down the road, and she was pretty good at Foosball too. Sheryl (if that was her name) was also pretty good at the table. Anyway, I can’t believe this girl (Kim) went with me at the drop of a hat, but she did. She was a secretary for a law firm, and quit them to follow me to California.
I lost her in my jealousy of her new boss in California (big, big company, built tunnels through mountains) who bought her a lot of stuff out there, like her own apartment in Rolling Hills Estates, L.A. so she didn’t have to stay with me, and to be closer to work and her country club membership facility he hooked her up with. And yes, the name of the city went with the property. One of the richest areas out there. He easily bought me out.
Soon I find myself headed back to Denver, yet one more time with plenty more moves back and forth (Calif-Co-Calif) ahead of me. I’d be there now if I could afford it.
The last time I left California, I had been given a business card for a company located in Phoenix, when and where I decided to change it up. Instead of going back to Colorado like 12 other times, I headed to Phoenix, and my company of choice no longer belonged to a guy named Charley Bazzill. Now his Mormon grandson owned the business that was shown on my card and I got the job. Went and made a few jumps out of a plane and started on Monday.
It was only a few months before they had me baptized.
Let me share one more story. I’ll make it short.
Going back to my crime, on a Sunday, and after church services, I took my wife and went in to tell the Bishop what was going on, and that my plan was to turn myself in. I wanted to wait a day or two (I was definitely scared), and asked if he would come with me on Tuesday evening following that Sunday.
With my wife and Bishop in tow, I waltzed into the local police department on that Tue. evening, and reported my crime to the cop at the desk, with my wife, and Bishop standing next to me. Before I got too far, he raises his hand to stop me. “Hold on a second” he says as he turns and opens a door behind him where he calls out another officer of the law, and says to him, “listen to this.” Now to me he says, “start again”.
I never saw the light of day again for 15 years because of that night. If you plan to report a crime, and you’re the criminal , my advice is, never, never walk into a police station without a lawyer, never. They were able to double my stay in their hotel by not taking a lawyer with me. Instead, I thought, gee, let’s take my Bishop.
But, the story here is actually this. Arizona tried to go after my Bishop for not calling the police on me that Sunday. He gave me my time, but cops weren’t having it, so they tried charging him. I don’t know the actual charge, but I do know they put a Salt Lake Mormon appointed (by the Presidency), attorney with the name Skousen to rescue him from Arizona law.
This caused a few Church policies and standards to change because of that, and the church saved their beloved Bishop from the law.
Monty Smith
(480) 544-7413
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