Thoughts on Monogamy and Celibacy from a Former Espionage Agent

“Or what woman, if she has ten silver coins and loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, because I have found the coin which I had lost!’ In the same way, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of Christ over one sinner who repents.”
---Luke 15:8-10

I was raised in an abusive household, and that fact had a lot to do with my recruitment by the British Crown’s foreign intelligence service. It is a little-known fact that the GCHQ actively recruits naive and willing agents from their former colonies through the Masonic Order and that’s what happened to me. I was willing to die for king and country and nation and flag, and the GCHQ exploited the abuse I’d suffered to further the interests of the Crown. Later in my career, the CIA did much the same.
 
I spent thirty-three plus years as a field officer for the GCHQ, the first twenty as a commissioned combat officer and the last thirteen-plus as a deep-cover Major Lieutenant., During that time, I forsook meaningful relationships for the sake of my missions and nearly died a hundred times over. It was a lonely, grueling lifestyle.
 
 
THE HOUSEHOLD IN WHICH I GREW UP
The man who raised me is and was a sodomite in a scriptural sense, and so are many members of extended family. That man sexually abused me; and he was routinely abused my mother. Members of my extended family did much the same, and their depravity shaped my values and belief system from an early age. Nearly all of them are still alive.
 
The man who raised me has a snap temper and he frequently abused my mother. Some of my earliest memories include witnessing that man routinely exploit her good nature, watching him violate her body against her will, and listening to him verbally abuse her unrelentingly. Somewhere around the age of four, I decided I had had enough and made it a point to defend my mother. From that point on, I bore the brunt of his verbal abuse and his physical threats.
 
The man who raised me is not my biological father. The DNA does not match, and my mother is not aware of this fact. She is an alcoholic and was raped multiple times before my birth by family members whilst she was in a stupor: twice by a brother-in-law and once by a sister-in-law. Through Christ’s grace, my mother has no recollection of the rapes she experienced at the hands of her in-laws. That said, other family members knew about the rape incidents and they have never come clean with her.
 
My mother’s marriage to this man was loosely arranged by her stepfather. He, too, had abused her verbally, and he persuaded my mother that she could do no better than this man. This occurred after her stepfather convinced her to steer clear of the man of her life, the son of a wealthy car dealer from Wheaton, Illinois that went by the name Walter.
 
My mother has a brilliant mind and was an incredibly beautiful young woman. The type of woman that turned heads on the street. Her stepfather introduced her to alcohol in the form of Gin at the age of fifteen and would play mind games with my mother after he had given her a couple of drinks.
 
The man who raised me repeated this same pattern with my mother. He would feed my mother alcohol on the weekends when he was home to sedate her. He would then tell my mother grandiose plans for their future when the effects of the alcohol began to set in. This man continued to do so until my mother’s health began to fail a couple years back. From a psychological perspective, he is what you would call an enabler and would also be categorized as a sociopath.
 
The man who raised me is cowardly. Like any sociopath, he would take advantage of me in leveraged situations. For example, he would verbally berate me and attempt to humiliate me in public. This was especially true during my adolescence and early teen years.
 
This man would mock me for what he considered my shortcomings and attempt to instill insecurities as he had with my mother. That said, I didn’t roll over. I would often push back until his rage nearly boiled over and physical confrontation occurred. To quell these occurrences, I learned to lie at an early age and told him exactly what he wanted to hear simply to placate his ego.
 
During my infancy, the man who raised me sexually abused me multiple times on the weekends when my mother ran errands. He would drink beer, turn on the television, and set me in his lap. When I began to fall asleep, he would tug at my genitals, and I would begin to cry. I can remember his merciless repetition of this act and his laughter as I lay there helpless. He knew what he was doing, and he derived perverse pleasure from the torture he inflicted.
 
The man who raised me often physically harassed my mother in the kitchen. He would assert his physical dominance over her and grope her in unwelcoming ways. My mother would fight him off and often wind up in tears. When this occurred, the man who raised me would let out the same type laugh.
 
Around the age of four, I reached a breaking point and decided to become my mother’s protector. When the temper of the man who raised me became heated, I would distract his attention away from my mother. He liked to watch the news during dinner and opine on the events of the day. I would counter his points with points of my own and continue a tit for tat until he told me to shut my mouth. That was generally enough to keep him from harming my mother.
 
Even though I did not receive a catechism or religious training, Christ’s commands were written on my heart. Therefore, I did my best to refrain from physical confrontations with the man who raised me and I also refrained from name calling. That said, when the man who raised me verbally abused my mother away from the dinner table, I would often step in to defend her.
 
His verbal abuse of the two of us was commonplace when he was in town, and I made a point to steer clear of him the best I could. Starting around the age of eight, I began to spend a lot of time on the streets and was frequently taken in by neighbors for supper. I learned to hustle and barter for money and told lies about the situation at home mostly to protect my mother from the wrath of the man who raised me other than anything else.
 
 
MY EXTENDED FAMILY
The man who raised me was not the only member of my family that molested me. One of his younger sisters also violated me during my infancy and two of my cousins violated me during my adolescence. Like most children, I swept the traumatic experiences to the back of my mind after they occurred. I did not begin to reflect upon these incidents until years later.
 
My aunt molested me the day of my Christening. While placing a gift upon my crib, she bent down, kissed me on the lips and slipped her tongue into my mouth. I was halfway asleep when this occurred, and I began screaming. My mother had to console me for over an hour afterward.

At the age of four my mother and I went to visit my grandmother and her stepfather. A cousin of mine happened to also be visiting them at the time. She was eleven years older than me blossoming into her sexuality, and she proceeded to molest me during the visit.
 
One evening before bed, she entered the guest room, approached me, and kissed me directly on the lips. I turned flush and my heart raced. Afterward, she smiled seductively ad then exit the room while keeping eye contact with me. A couple of minutes later, she returned to the guest room and kissed me a second time with more exuberance. That second kiss left me feeling numb.
 
She wasn’t the only cousin of mine that molested me. A year later, a paternal cousin seven years my elder gave me a long, passionate kiss in front of her brother with whom I was close. She then told me to sit by her and held my hand in a sensual manner. That kiss and her affectionate gestures were designed to make her brother jealous, and they did.
 
My male cousin told our parents about what had occurred and the man who raised me berated me in front of the family. Afterward, my aunt and uncle led my cousins out of the house and my male cousin held his head down in shame. I learned years later that he held some sort of romantic feelings of his own for me at the time.
 
I didn’t think much about these incidents until years later, but each had a profound influence on my sex life. There was no romantic affection demonstrated within the house I grew up in, and my ideas of romance mostly stemmed from literature and film. Having witnessed the abuse my mother routinely suffered, love and romance became heavenly ideals for me and the moments of physical intimacy I experienced with my girlfriends were cherished.
 
I began to seek close relationships with women early on in life and longed to find a soulmate. At the age of fifteen, I began a romantic relationship with the daughter of a Cosa Nostra captain and fell in love with her, but it was never meant to be. She, too, came from an abusive household and it was a volatile relationship. I learned years later that her father had kept her from her true soulmate for business purposes.
 
The man who raised me worked with a mid-level British Freemason who gathered intelligence on the organization’s behalf. He was aware of the violent disposition the man who raised me possessed, and he was also told about my above average intelligence. Additionally, the man who raised me shared details of my mother’s family’s escape from Fascist oppression and Soviet occupation in Latvia during World War II with this man.
 
In turn, the GCHQ was made aware of these details by his superiors. and they began to monitor my activities when I first entered grammar school. By the time they reached out to me during my senior year of high school, they had assembled a comprehensive psychological profile. The GCHQ was aware of my makeup, and they exploited my vulnerabilities. In was coached to forego my natural instincts and encourage to become promiscuous to achieve my mission tasks.
 
 
ACTING AGAINST CHRIST’S COMMANDS
The GCHQ helped place me into Princeton University on an emersion assignment and also to groom me for future assignments. The university has long been a bastion for the children of Cosa Nostra bosses and underbosses, and my drinking behavior fit in with their crowd. For the duration of my education, not only did I socialize with these people, I also assisted in collecting profile assessments on them for future use.
 
During my time at Princeton, I targeted women that had been involved with the children of Cosa Nostra bosses or underbosses for romantic relationships. I also had a handful of sexual encounters with their daughters as well as their mistresses. Although these relationships and sexual encounters helped me achieve my assigned objectives, my promiscuity left me feeling empty inside. Simply put, I was unable to develop healthy relationships with due to my oath of service.
 
After I graduated from Princeton, I spent a brief period in Northern Virginia where I completed advanced combat training and field awareness training. Afterward, I was place on assignment in Kansas City, Kansas. There, I monitored the movement of money in and out of the area and made a sketch of Cosa Nosta’s base of operations for the GCHQ. Whilst on assignment there, I met a woman and fell in love for the second time. That relationship also was never meant to be.
 
The Woman I met in Kansas City had had a daughter from a previous relationship. I developed a bond of intimacy with this woman I had never experienced before and looked upon her daughter as my own. That said, I was never able to give myself to them wholly and completely due to the nature of my assignments.
 
Three years into the relationship, I took an honest look at myself and realized that I that the risks of remaining in the relationship were too great. I could not be honest with them about the nature of my work, and I was unwilling to place their lives at risk. I also had chemical dependency issues and realized full well that I would be a poor male role model for her daughter. In short, I loved them both dearly and ended the relationship for their wellbeing.
 
Afterward, I engaged in a couple of casual flings and then jumped into a relationship with a woman who distantly reminded me of the woman I had loved. Like the woman I loved, this woman had an outgoing personality. She also happened to have a similar hair color. With little thought, I asked this woman to marry me and she said yes. That relationship turned out to be an unmitigated disaster.
 
At heart, I knew the relationship was doomed from the start. Most telling was an incident that occurred shortly after we became engaged. I happened to be on a restricted diet, and the woman I was about to marry made dinner for me one night. The meal didn’t accommodate my restricted diet, and I kindly had to pass.
 
After I said "no, thank you" and explained why I was unable to eat what she had prepared, my fiancée flew into a rage and threw a full serving plate directly at my head. I dodged the plate and it smashed into the wall of her kitchen. As she continued to curse me out, I I heard a gentle man’s voice outside myself speak to me. That voce said one word emphatically: “run!”
 
In the years since that incident occurred, I have come to realize that the Holy Spirit spoke to me that day. Instead of heeding His warning, I ignored the voice and proceeded ahead with the wedding. Nevertheless, my fiancée’s reaction that night was indicative of what I routinely experienced during the four-plus years we were together. She was unfaithful and abusive throughout the relationship, and it is only through Christ’s grace that I escaped the marriage.
 
After the divorce, I distanced myself from relationships and turned to pornography as a coping mechanism to deal with the loneliness of my existence. That said, I began a relationship with an older woman whom I’d met online shortly before completing my last assigned combat mission. That relationship also turned into a disaster.
 
Without going into much detail, I’ll simply say that this woman distracted me from my missions. She was a high maintenance woman and there little to no emotional intimacy. I broke up with her shortly before I completed the second of my assigned combat missions, and that decision was for my own good.
 
 
RETURNING TO THE FOLD
In April of 2013, I survived a planned assassination attempt. I was placed in a coma and spent nearly six months in the hospital recovering from my injuries. Afterward, I spent nearly two years in Colorado undergoing additional surgeries along with intensive physical therapy.
 
During that time, I was introduced to a woman my same age through my mother. That woman came from a powerful political family, and she was going through a divorce. We quickly hit it off. She happened to be a gentle and caring soul very much like mother and she had a keen wit. She also happened alcoholic.
 
I cannot say that I was good for this woman, nor that she was good for me. We began a physical relationship after her divorce was finalized, and her drinking became worse afterwards. Concerned for her health, I reached out to her sister and their childhood nanny for help. The woman’s illness became progressively worse, and I finally had to leave her for my own health and wellbeing.
 
I have been bothered by the fact that the two of us engaged in a physical relationship and I wound up leaving her. That said, I had yet to come to terms with my intelligence career nor the effects it had on my behavior. I was still deep under cover when I was involved with this woman and hadn’t reflected on the fact that I had used physical relationships as a crutch much like alcohol to cope with the stresses of my assignments.
 
In the time since I first accepted Christ into my heart, my feelings about monogamy and the sanctity of romantic relationships have only grown stronger. Thar t was shortly after I completed the last of my assigned combat missions for the GCHQ. In the time since, memories of the training and instruction I received have begun to come back. In retrospect, I can honestly say that I did not like the man I was trained to be: a remorseless killer and an adulterer.
 
I have been privileged to know a handful of strong and loving couples in my life, and I can honestly say that there is nothing more beautiful than a man and a woman who are wholly and fully devoted to Christ and to one another. Christ’s word and His teachings always remain true, and they resonated with me during the two brief periods I experienced true romantic intimacy in my life. Aside from the brief time in Kansas City, my career with the GCHQ was a shallow and isolating existence.
 
 
AN UNEXPECTED IRONY
I have been celibate for nearly a decade now and have been at peace with the decision. I can say unequivocally that some of the greatest times of my life have occurred in recent years during periods of quiet meditation and prayer. My alone time with Christ has afforded me periods of peace and serenity unlike any I have ever known. I wouldn’t trade those for the world.
 
The woman from Kansas City whom I had loved came to mind repeatedly during my meditation sessions in 2018, and I turned to Christ for guidance. She was always a woman of faith and memories of her devotion to Christ returned to my memory. Shortly afterward, I looked her up through Facebook and came to learn that she had married.

It was evident by what she posted on her Facebook page that she was miserable in her marriage. She was a brilliantly artistic woman, and her feed was dotted with pleas for help. Upon reviewing her feed, I once again turned to Christ for guidance. Through prayer and meditation, I was called to reach out to her directly and did so on Thanksgiving Day of 2018.
 
The same day I reached out to her, I learned that my first romantic partner from high school had taken her own life. I did some digging afterward and came to learn that she had been involved in an abusive marriage arranged through her father. I broke down and cried when I learned of this and then suppressed my desire to seek retribution.
 
Shortly after I first reached out to the woman from Kansas City, I wrote her a twenty-page letter and confessed to what she had meant to me. Prayer and meditation guided me through the letter. I spoke about my involvement with the GCHQ and the CIA, the attempt on my life, and the changes I had gone through since accepting Christ into my heart.
 
Afterward, I sent her a second letter and told her that I was aware that she was unhappy in her marriage. I then began to investigate the circumstances of her marriage. What I discovered disturbed me greatly. It was also somewhat ironic given the focus of my assignments with the GCHQ.
 
The marriage had been arranged by her eldest brother. That man had gone on to become a mid-level drug dealer within the suburbs of Kansas City after I broke up with this woman. So, too, had her two other brothers. Together, they ran a crystal meth distribution ring and paid fealty to Cosa Nostra. They were mid-level gangster at best, but they had dreams of expanding their distribution ring.
 
The man my former girlfriend had married came from a prominent Kansas City family that had made money in the agricultural business, and he had dreams of becoming a Mafioso of some sort. My former girlfriend’s brother thought he could exploit him, so he introduced that man to my former girlfriend. I learned that my former girlfriend’s eldest brother had bullied her into the marriage by basically telling her that it would be good for the family.
 
In turn, the man my former girlfriend married wound up selling agricultural secrets to the Chinese. The deal was arranged through my former girlfriend’s brother’s original drug suppliers.
 
The man my former girlfriend married also made routine business trips out to the West Coast and solicited call girls and hookers during these excursions. Worst of all, I learned that he was both physically and verbally abusive with my former girlfriend. This last fact left me seething with anger.
 
When I learned of the abuse, I refrained from retribution and turned to Christ. Through prayer and meditation, I was called to write a letter to my former girlfriend’s daughter. Within the letter, I outlined a portion of what I knew and urged my former girlfriend’s daughter to intercede on her mother’s behalf. I also conveyed that I had loved her as my own.
 
Not long after sending the letter, I learned that my former girlfriend was murdered by her husband. Shortly afterward, her daughter was also murdered. Both murders hit me heard, and the latter especially so. My former girlfriend’s daughter had been involved with a low-level solder that worked for her uncle. The entire family was whipped out in a gangland killing, and I happened to be familiar with the families behind the murder.
 
Rather than seek retribution for their murders, I stepped back and turned the matter over to Christ. It would have been easy for me to have taken the perpetrators out, but doing so would have corrupted my soul in the process. I am not the same man I was during my time with the GCHQ. Christ Himself rescued me from the gates of hell and I have no intention of ever returning to what I once was.
 
In my mourning, I scoured my former girlfriend’s social media pages one last time and discovered that she had remained true to her first love, the father of her daughter. Her Instagram page had a handful of soft messages longing for his return. Without equivocation, I can say that learning of this brought joy to my heart.
 
I had loved their daughter as my own and I know that she and her mother are both with Christ. This was revealed to me through the Holy Spirit the day both their murders took place. I happen to know of the man who fathered my former girlfriend’s daughter, and he’s turned out to live a decent life. I know in my heart that the two of them will be reunited with him through Christ. Knowing this has given me a degree of solace.
 
 
FINAL THOUGHTS
Last August, after thirty-four years of service, I officially resigned my commission with the GCHQ. I also terminated my arrangement with the CIA. Shortly afterward, I shared details of the abuse I suffered at the hands of the man who raised me with my mother. The details included the times he had molested me in my infancy.
 
I would like to say that this confession brought with it some healing, but it hasn’t. My mother is a firm state of denial over what occurred. She has also glossed over the abuses she suffered of her husband. In effect, the conversations I’ve had with her regarding these matters have been much like speaking with a combative teenager.
 
From a psychological perspective, my mother’s reaction seems to be a twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome. She’s nearing the end of her life and has guilt over her alcohol dependency during my adolescence and teen years. She is also still together with the man who raised me, and he continues to abuse her.
 
There is a part of me that would like to rip apart the man who raised me as well as other members of my extended family that abused my mother and me. Nevertheless, I have backed away from my anger and turned these matters over to Christ. That said, I continue to speak with my mother and there are days where my afternoons are filled with prayer and meditation after speaking with her.
 
A confidant of mine told me recently that people who molest children do so for one of two reasons. Either they were raised that way and they are simply repeating a pattern, or they have a warped belief that the abuse they engage in is a way of conveying love.
 
With the family members that molested me and raped my mother, I know for a fact that the first explanation isn’t true. While my paternal grandfather was a heavy-handed man and a degenerate gambler, he did not sexually abuse his children. My grandmother never would have allowed it. She was an astute woman, and she would have known if something like that had occurred within her household.
 
I have no animus or anger toward my mother for her alcoholic behavior. In fact, I am sympathetic to a degree. She happened to love her biological father dearly and he passed away when she was eleven My grandmother remarried shortly afterward to bring a degree of stability to the home and she happened to choose a charming abuser. That set the tone for my mother’s life.
 
In effect, my mother never matured beyond the age of fifteen. She has always done her best to care for me despite her shortcomings and I love her dearly for that. In contrast, I have little love for the man who raised me nor for my extended family.
 
A few years back, I asked the man who raised if he believed in Christ. He immediately became confrontational with me and shouted tritely, “I’ll believe in him when I see him!” I have forgiven that man for the abuse he inflicted upon me, but it is my intention to never speak with him again. His heart was hardened long ago.
 
As for the GCHQ and their exploitation of my upbringing, the fact that they attempted to assassinate me last April after I refused another combat assignment tells you all you need to know. I was no more than a dispensable asset to them for the beginning, and my loyalty was all for naught. After I accepted Christ into my heart, I was useless to them.
 
The British Crown has little regard for the Magna Carta and the principles of liberty and freedom. It took me more than thirty years to realize this, but it’s true. The same can be said for the powerbrokers that control the American government. Specifically, the Federal Reserve Board and the interests they serve. They, too, have little regard for the Constitution of the United States and the Bill of Rights. Like their British counterparts, the board members of the Federal Reserve and the families they represent believe these documents as no more than window dressing.
 
Christ warns that “it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 19:24) That said, it has been a humiliating experience to realize that the interests I severed for thirty-three-plus years have little or no regard for the Ten Commandments nor for Christ’s teachings. Intrinsically, these were the principles that lured me into the intelligence community in the first place. When the powerbrokers and kingmakers I once served speak publicly of such things, their words are filled with empty platitudes.

“But no one can enter the strong man’s house and plunder his property unless he first ties up the strong man, and then he will plunder his house.
‘Truly I say to you, all sins will be forgiven the sons and daughters of men, and whatever blasphemies they commit; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin.’”
---Mark 3:27-29
 
 
 
CHRIST TRANSLATES FROM BEAST TO YEAST. CHRIST RETURNITH.

Author: Erik Gagnon - Managing Partner, Chi Rho Consulting