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Have You Been Financially Raped By Landover Baptist Church?
Welcome to Dora Denkins' REFUGE FROM REFUSE: A Home For People Who Are in Recovery From Being Members of Landover Baptist Church.

Hello, my name is Dora. You’ve seen my picture, so you know that I am an extremely attractive woman. But that is only 7/8 of my story. I am also very sophisticated. But don’t let that intimidate you. I have my foibles and weaknesses. In fact, I am currently in recovery for the psychological abuse I have suffered at the hands of Landover Baptist Church.

It is not really a church at all – it's more like a crazed cult. And they psychologically abuse people and try to leach every last bit of their money before they are cast aside like dead cats that have died of poison in the night! Friends, it has been a harrowing 5 years since I first befriended Mrs. Betty Bowers when we reached for the same Botega Veneto handbag while shopping in New York. I stopped to admire her very expensive coat – and the next thing I knew she was getting me to confess Jesus as my personal Savior in the shoe department at Barneys.

Before I knew it, I was signed up with Landover Baptist Church and being expected to write checks from my husband’s investment accounts for over $25,000 a month. They had sent me to a “spiritual cleansing facility” in South Dakota, which was nothing more than a glorified concentration-camp/health-spa where I was brainwashed while getting herbal wraps. It was all very sneaky and I fell into these crazed zealots’ trap. Before I knew it, I was rebuking people at malls and slapping people of other faiths very hard across the face after they answered their doors. I thought I was happy, but I was miserable! When I tried to leave, their security people would track me down and threaten to reveal some embarrassing things I had shared with Pastor Deacon Fred in his tape-recorded “soul cleansing confession time.” I suddenly found myself in a situation just like Tom Cruise and those equally crazy money-grabbing Scientologists!

Anyway, to make a long story short, those ghouls haven't given me a moment's peace since I closed my tithe/investment account with Schwab. The following Sunday, Pastor Deacon Fred made me stand up in front of the entire congregation of 25,400 and bellowed: “Friends in the Blood, here is a woman who says she loves the Lord Jesus. But does she? Does someone who really loves the Lord Jesus let Him down and make Him weep inconsolably because they are liars and don’t give onto the Lord all that is rightfully His? There is a special place in Hell for people who cheat the Lord out of His rightful tithes. A place in Hell where demons use the wrong end of pitchforks to do things that I can’t even allude to because there are ladies present.”

After that day, my access card to the sanctuary didn’t work any more. And the late night calls started (usually people speculating about what Pastor had been referring to with the pitchfork comment). My dog was skinned and stuffed in my mailbox. It was horrible! I would run into members of the Ladies of Landover at the Christian Super Store and they would pelt me with prayer cards. Once, Sister Taffy tried to stone me as I walked to my car. Fortunately, I was not hurt, but the hood of my BMW SUV was dented and my windshield only stayed on because of the glue they put in the glass. I was terrified! Since then, I have been in hiding. I've had my phone number changed 7 times. I have no idea how Betty keeps getting my new unlisted number within minutes of it being activated!

I'm asking all of you to please pray for my safety. You can reach me here on the board. If I don’t post in three days, please call the police. Thank you. Dora.

JULY 7, 2002 Message From Me, Dora:

Dear, Sweet Friends in the Blood of the Lamb:

Isn't He good to us? Somewhere out there I hear a million and one "Amens"! It is all you folks who have been praying for me and letting me know that you love me and are behind me as I try to extracate myselve from the talons of Landover Baptist Church.

I am still in hiding in Miami. I just moved into a fabulous new highrise overlooking the water. While I have been suffering the abuse from the collection department at Landover, I have also had to undergo the torment of workers in my new condo replacing the awful ticky tacky white Corian counters with polished granite inlay in a wonderful leopard pattern and installing my new Viking range, etc. I decided to do marble floors throughout because Jesus doesn't like junk but it has meant that not one of the many room (except the 4 balconies) have been safe from the filthy Mexican crawling the place and looking at my legs when they should be working! (I think several of them have cottoned on to the fact that I am groovy chick who doesn't like panties in this Florida heat so I am sure my legs weren't the only thing they were trying to look at! LOL) I know that the Lord is using me as a vessel because He likes to tempt mortals to their spiritual death, but after all I've been through I would like to go through one day without packs of men leering at me and wanting me in unholy ways. Except the hottie who does the tile.

As a full-time Christian, I sent my girl down to the homeless shelter this morning with a selection of passe cruisewear and told her she could let them pick ONE outfit each (and shoes and shorts count as TWO outfits, as anyone can tell you). I am always GIVING and yet I am living the life of Job.

I am meeting with the Venetian plaster hand-applied wall finishes person in a minute, so I don't have a lot of time, but I did want to let you dear people know that I am getting by – if only just. It has been horrible. I went to Bal Harbour the other day and was buying a Gucci-monogrammed beach set (umbrella, which I don't use because I love, love, love the sun!, fold out chairs, towels, martini cooler, and sun-fun slippers) when a bullet went through the store window, through my beautiful blond hair and into the heart of a hobo purse that I was actually thinking of buying. I don't need to tell all of you who was behind the wheel of the black DeVille that screeched out of the parking lot! No, not that horrible Betty – as if she would ever be seen actually driving herself! – well, I better not name names as they are tracing all my calls.

Please pray for my safety and that my condo turns out as nice as the renderings.

-- Luff, Dora



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