In 1973, the Weavers, both natives of Iowa farms, had been married for two years, and paid $26,000 for the best house on the block, impressive for a couple still sneaking up on 30. They called on their new neighbors,impressing everyone with their friendliness.
But for Randy and Vicki, something was missing. A collection of sports cars (a Mustang, a Corvette, a Triumph) and a short stint selling Amway hadn’t given purpose to their lives. Society didn’t offer anything better. The antiwar movement had been idiotic and all the hippies made a mockery of Randy and Vicki’s generation. And now the “’70s”? Neither Randy nor Vicki could condone such hedonistic lifestyles.
Unhappy, they returned to their religious upbringings. Every Sunday, the Weavers drove east to the Cedarloo Baptist Church and listened to the minister. But there seemed to be no fire or passion, no sense of what was really happening in the world.
They would have to find the truth themselves. They began doing their own research, especially Vicki. And at night, Randy would walk down University, Bible in hand, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He’d drop by Sambo’s, an all-hours coffee shop. Every evening, it filled up with guys from the local John Deere plant where Randy worked, as well as grumpy retirees, off-duty cops, and neighborhood Christians. He’d warn anyone who listened about current politics, tell them to repent, and launch into biblical prophecy advising they escape civilization. It wasn’t long before he found a group of about 10 who felt the way he did, coffee-swilling born-agains, and they would meet at the restaurant to debate and share Scripture.
They called themselves legalists, because they believed the Bible was the literal word of God. There would be anywhere from four to 10 people at the Weavers’ house, sometimes as often as four nights a week. By 1981, the Old Testament books were opening up for Randy and Vicki, not as outdated stories, but as the never-ending law of the Maker. He was opening their eyes to what was happening now, in the United States, just as Hal Lindsey had foretold in his apocalyptic best-seller, “The Late Great Planet Earth,” a Weaver favorite. The forces of evil (the Soviet ‘Union, the U.S. government, Jewish bankers) were ready to strike at any time against American people. They would blend radical right-wing politics, an increasingly virulent strain of anti-Semitism, and Bible verses. From Ezekiel, they read: “Son of man [Christian Americans], set thy face against Gog [the grand conspiracy] . . . And I will call for a sword against him through- out all my mountains, saith the Lord God.”
Clearly, they would need weapons. First, to fight the Communists, who would likely come through Canada, and then, once the tribulation started, government agents and nonbelievers. Randy began sleeping with a loaded pistol under his pillow.
And Matthew:" . . . and then shall the end come . . . And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars . . . and there shall be famines and pestilences, and earthquakes in diverse places."
Yes! All those things were happening. Randy and Vicki applied news events to the war, famine, and pestilence litmus test. It all fit! Praise be His glorious name!
“Then shall they deliver you up to be afflicted, and shall kill you: and ye shall be hated of all nations for my name’s sake.” Yes! Already, they thought they had been mistreated at church and Randy had gotten in trouble for preaching at work. The persecution was beginning.
At one Bible study, Randy talked about Revelation. The beast “causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand or on their foreheads . . . or the name of the beast, or the number of his name . . . and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.” Six-six-six.
The beast, Randy said, was a metaphor for computers. Soon, everything would be catalogued on computer: births, schooling, purchases, homes. And every credit card, connected as they are by computers, would mark people with the number of the beast, Vicki said.
There was soon going to be a social breakdown, Randy would say. The government would declare martial law, crushing democracy and killing the good Christian Americans. People will be rioting in the streets and the traitorous government would turn against its own people. The only protection would be clusters of good Christians with guns–which the Weavers, with their move to Idaho in 1988, would become.
