MY EARLY JOURNEY  (written December 2004)

The title of this third part of my autobiography, But now I'm found, is a phrase from the famous hymn “Amazing Grace’. You are reading the continuation of my most unusual life story, after I had ‘found myself’ as it were. Here is my story so far:

Never in my wildest imagination did I visualize what mission God would be calling me to fulfill. I am an average person, who until around 2000 lived an ordinary life as husband, father and working man. Before reporting further, amazing milestones in my adventurous journey, let me recap the path my life has taken so far. ‘More in number than the sand (part one) and ‘…and of a sound mind’ (part two) are the two books, which describe in brutal honesty and with significant detail, how my life has been turned upside down from migrant to miracle man.

The poor, adventurous migrant

I was born into a poor working class family in Southern Germany, five years after World War Two had finished, in 1950. The youngest of five children, I was the only one in the family to receive a higher education. My mother was very dominant and active; my father, a factory worker, the complete opposite - easygoing and peace loving. At a young age we were taken to a Sunday school, where I came to love the exiting stories of the bible. Later I joined the church youth group and became a regular, enthusiastic churchgoer.

Soon after training and qualifying in ‘middle management’ in a machine tool manufacturing company, I said good-bye to family and friends in mid 1969 and migrated to Sydney, Australia. Within two years I had met a girl at a church, we married and travelled the world and working in Germany for 1 1/2 years. After returning and living in Sydney for a short time, we settled in 1974 on the holiday isle of Tasmania, one of Australia’s six states.

I worked mostly in monotonous office jobs, which left me unfulfilled and searching for a new career. I retrained and worked as driving instructor, just before relocating to the mainland of Australia. We had lived in Tasmania for 8 ½ years; our two eldest children were born there. We moved to Adelaide, where I initially worked for myself as driving instructor, and later with the local Automobile Association. We had two more children and became active members of a large, well known church community.

Restless and creative

My inquisitive mind had always come up with improvements. I was not shy in showing these to the authorities, my employers or Government Agencies, with the view of receiving assistance in developing my ideas. But I had already drawn attention to myself as potential troublemaker. Shortly after arriving in Adelaide I had protested against the system, which did not recognize my professional qualifications from Tasmania. Every mum and dad was allowed to teach their children to drive, but not I, because I was charging a fee. To reduce my time of unemployment I sought assistance from a Member of Parliament. I assumed that I was labeled ‘rebel’ from then on in whatever I undertook in the city we chose to live.  

In 1993 the Driver Training Industry had a major shake up – privatization. The core problem, as I saw right at the feasibility stage, was that the same instructor, who taught a student, would also conduct the driving test with the same client. I saw the conflict that would arise from the dual role instructor/examiner. My standing firm and outspokenness landed me in a mental hospital. The main cause was this conflict.

The Government’s stringent auditing system, to safeguard against a drop in standards, turned out to be a nightmare, just as I had feared it would. An instructor’s dilemma was in trying to follow puny, often silly government regulations, while at the same time trying to keep a customer happy. Later a law was introduced to make drivers indicate 5 seconds before moving away from the kerb. My argument was that to only indicate 3 seconds, may be breaking this law, but should this insignificant error fail an entire driving test? The numbers 3 & 5 would become a symbol, together with others, of divine intervention in my life, often confirmed by numbers.

I was one of many, who saw a problem, but only a few spoke out, fearing for their livelihood, if they would not go along. I pointed out that the new method of obtaining a driver’s licence might not produce safer drivers. I was right, according to statistics I had found on the Internet. It produced angry, frustrated driving instructors, some becoming physically ill.

Because I worked for an organisation, who played a major role in introducing the new system, I was forced into this change in work practices - against my will and my arguments for common sense. It looked very much like my employer went along with this new system for financial gains. I pointed this out to the authorities, plus I discovered a major blunder, a mathematical error on a scoring sheet for driving tests.

My ability to see such errors and fearlessly pointing them out, was a sure formula for making enemies. I was very naïve about it. My blunt, frank (typical German) approach upset a few bureaucrats along the way.

The troublemaker

Instead of fixing the error I had discovered, I was targeted even more than before. I feared for my life and/or sanity a few times. The error, if brought into the open, would do political damage. I felt physical persecution, which turned into real fear for my life.  The matter came to a head with a manic episode on Anzac Day 1999, when I took over the church platform quite rudely and tried to tell my fellow parishioners from the church platform that there was corruption in high places in our city. 

Instead of help and protection, which I was hoping to find, most at the church didn’t believe what I was saying. Within days things escalated. I was tricked into going with police officers, who I thought were going to listen to me. Instead they admitted me to a mental institution.

It was the start of two years of depression and stress. I was diagnosed as suffering from bipolar disorder, a mental illness formerly known as manic depression. At that point my life seemed to be over. I had lost my job, my health and my respect from family and friends. Nobody wanted to listen to my story of corruption and of the driver licensing system that did not work.

Fellow sufferers, as well as the medical profession, told me that there was no cure for my condition. I would be staying on medication for the rest of my life. I could apply for an invalid pension, my doctor suggested.

It was at this, my lowest point in my 50 years on earth, when God picked me up. When I needed HIM most, HE came and worked HIS best. I remember the exact place, where I was standing, when God dropped the word ‘Trust' into my spirit. It would resurface many times over the next few years – my source of comfort on this roller-coaster ride into the unknown. I started wondering, why all this suffering happened to me? I was sure fellow church members thought I had committed a great sin, possibly an immoral act - Now fate caught up with him. I had evidence of rumours circulating about me. 

My turning closer to God started with the word trust and a lesson in ‘L before P’: My learner drivers had to earn their learner’s permit (L) before being able to obtain their p-plate licence (P) to drive on their own. My lesson was to put love of God and people first, not insisting on my rights, and wanting to change the world with my own human will power. This was the catalyst for enormous growth, opening the way to rise to a level I had never known before. 

Strange discoveries

My struggle for common sense in driver education progressed into a fight for justice in more serious matters. Out of the blue God dropped thoughts into my spirit; some so outlandish I shared them with nobody, but recorded them in my diary, which I kept daily. One of these revelations concerned my family doctor, who was being accused for fondling two of his female clients. The thought came that he was forced to plead guilty; in return he would receive a lesser sentence. Despite being innocent he had little choice, but to go along with the lie. Not long after he died at age 50, playing tennis. Had he found out too much about certain people? Had he been silenced? I started questioning God, why he allowed me such thoughts, especially if they were all rubbish.

Another crime, which crossed my path via the TV News, was about South Australia’s longest serving Magistrate. Soon after retiring from 29 years of service, he was accused and convicted of sexually abusing children, while he had been a leader in a Surf-Life-Saving Club 17 years earlier. A thought dropped into my mind, again out of the blue, which said – that man is innocent.

Because the man also claimed to be a Christian, I started to take notice. Something didn’t add up. For a few months we exchanged letters in which he pleaded his innocence. He wrote to me that he had been framed, because vital information, which could have proved that his accusers were lying, was withheld as evidence in his trial. Despite me emailing this and other major findings about the case, nobody took me seriously. 

Especially after my world entered into the realm of the supernatural and I discovered co-incidences in names, numbers, colours, car registration plates etc. etc, which to my family and others looked normal. I argued with myself (and much more with my wife) that co-incidences happen, but not to the extent I discovered them. There must come a point, when a Christian must ask - God are you somewhere in this? Should I drop it or take it further. In countless hours on my knees I felt he was calling me to continue the journey to this day.  

Once I discovered, what I perceived to be a criminal, laundering money from a robbery or drugs, and reported it to police. Because I had to give my name and address, I felt very vulnerable. If a corrupt police officer were to get hold of my details and wanted revenge, I would be an easy target for a violent act of retribution of blowing the whistle. Later I found out that people could give information to this crime-reporting hotline, without identifying themselves. Why was I in a different category?

A much more serious incident came to my attention by stumbling across the name Ben (my eldest son), the number 315 (my date of birth is 30/1/50) and the small words why and all. Whyalla is the name of a town in South Australia where a plane was to land. The date was 31/5/00; the name of the pilot was Ben. But Ben’s plane crashed, because in a million to one chance, so the papers reported, both engine failed at the same time. 

The mental torment

When I tried to make my wife Isobel understand my weird thinking, she strongly discouraged me from believing that God had anything to do with my thinking. It was my own mind playing tricks, no matter how many co-incidences happen.   Whenever my 'outside the square' mind picked up some facts and matched the data, my mind engaged in a battle - was this thought from God or was it a symptom of my mental illness, I was told I had. My wife carefully monitored my mental state. A second time I got excited, she insisted I go back to the mental hospital. I felt betrayed by my own wife.   

I believed God and prayed every day with sincerity and desperation. I sought God with an intensity I had seldom before. I was not sure if trying to prove that I haven’t got a mental illness was my main motivation. Following my discoveries of co-incidences I started a very lively email campaign with newspapers, politicians or anybody I could think of who would listen. Radio talkback programs became another platform for finding a listening ear.

One of the first unusual co-incidences was the name of a journalist at the trial of Peter Liddy, the convicted Magistrate. By fluke I had sat down next to a reporter from The Australian, a national newspaper. Her name was Altmann (old man in German). The other peculiarities were the letters ‘dn’. I had very early in my email campaign discovered that the name Liddy and the name Lindy (a lady who was imprisoned for murder, but later found to be innocent) were distinguished by these two letters. My favourite radio station, one I had contacted very early on about my story, was Radio 5 DN. During my mental breakdown I had rung them in desperation, telling them I was to be killed. 

Numbers tell a tale

In late 1998 we bought two new cars. One had the registration number 301, the other 228. It took months before I discovered, or should I say before God allowed me to discover, that a scripture (Joel 2, 28) was speaking about ‘old men’ dreaming dreams. In the German Bible, for some unknown reason, the same verse is in Chapter 3, Verse 1. (Chapter 2 ends after verse 27). I saw the numbers and how they were just the references to our two motorcar’s registration plates. I was astounded and confused. Why would God allow me to see all this, if there was no purpose? God would not torture my sensitive mind for no reason.

The question where it all was leading to plagued me constantly. The word trust would calm my mind after many weird discoveries. For a period of time the colours yellow and red fascinated me. I found out that our state’s colours red/yellow/blue were mentioned as the colours of an important figure in the biblical book of Revelations. I started to look at myself as a man with a mission, possibly that man. 

Because I had lots of time during my recovery at home, I was able to develop a website for my driving school, which had all but stopped. I had great ideas and, with a little help from students, ended up with one of the largest websites of any driving school the Internet. Months earlier, by a sheer twist of fate, during my second hospitalization, I had met a man, whose grandsons were computer whizzes. I got to know them over a period and we created some seven road crashes and other material, which was well received by the public, the world over.

One of the licence plate numbers in one animated car crash was HBKK 15, derived from Habakkuk Chapter 1 and Verse 5: God will do an incredible work in the last days. I believed this was it. 

As grand finale, we presented the Gospel of Jesus Christ, illustrating the verse John 3,16, in road signs, followed by a silent invitation to follow HIM. One of the grandsons, by another co-incident, he had the same Christian and surname, plus a p, to that of a person, who had made my life miserable, but whom I had forgiven. This man had worked against me, despite us being on the same team, stifling many of my ideas, when I needed support.

My linking names, numbers and all kinds of other data was mushrooming. The church we joined was at Enfield (the letter n, the dominant one), our street name Goodall Road, I read as all good. As mentioned already, my date of birth and both my christian name and surname, fitted into my interwoven, complex world of numbers, names and codes. It all seemed like a fairy-tale, a web of mystery and magic. Except, it was real; happening to an ordinary driving instructor right here in Adelaide, South Australia.  

Extra-ordinary events in politics and nature

Early in 2002 the convicted magistrate was linked, in a bizarre set of connections, to an independent Member of Parliament, who held the balance of power in the South Australian Parliament after the February 02 State elections. Both, the convicted magistrate and the powerful politician had the initials PL, which teased my playful brain. I got involved in politics and later ran for pre-selection for Federal Parliament. (Unsuccessfully, I mighty add). 

In another amazing co-incidence on 01/02/03 I linked the crash of the US space craft Columbia to an email I had sent days earlier. I had drawn attention to the fact that the word ‘all’, which features prominently on my website, means “Outer Space” in German. This is where the word all, which was also featured on my website, came to link with ‘Whyalla’. 

My long, strong email, refuting scientific claims that there is no God, went to seven recipients. This fact made me later I asked the question: Is this possibly a reference to the ‘seven thunders’ in the book of Revelations. I also suggested that perhaps the small book, referred to by the writer of Revelations, was the Government logbook, the new method of driver training. It had promised so much, but went sour, when the results did not match up.

The day after Christmas 2003, my world of numbers, a car registration plate in this instance, linked to a major world event, an earthquake that killed over 20 000 in Bam, Iran. I started to think that God was doing something rather big, rather significant in my life, but kept asking, what was it leading to? What was it?

Another realm of awareness

A police motorcyclist had died under very tragic circumstances. The crash, I found out later, happened almost exactly the same time as I casually, for no real reason, had said to the person sitting next to me that my christian name Dieter backwards could read as ‘ter die’. Data of the dead policeman’s background, his name, age etc, spooked me to the point, where I believed God allowed him to died in my place. This was the point of parting thoughts with my wife and family, who were totally confused at my strange behaviour. 

I attended the policeman’s funeral plus that of another road crash victim, who died with a fellow member of his football team on the way to training. His name was Ben. This was the same name as that of my eldest son, plus his surname Mitchell (nickname Mitch, which was the same as that of my daughter) made me wonder, if indeed God was behind it all.

I spent hours in tears and on my knees or both, once at church in front of the whole congregation. Efforts to find a sympathetic ear from Ministers of Religion or others around me, failed. My story had become too complex and macabre.

Visit and tell the world

In October/November 2002 my oldest and youngest sons travelled with me to visit Europe. The trip was an eye opener in more ways than one. I knew something extra-ordinary was taking place in Adelaide, but had no idea, how far it had spread or where to it was leading. I was speculating that some news of what had happened was known even overseas. Days before returning we celebrated my mother’s 90th birthday on 9/11/04. Eight months later my mother died under, what I perceived, suspicious circumstances. I only heard of her death a week later. 

I felt God wanted me to publish the story on the Internet, by far the cheapest way of spreading HIS message to the largest possible audience. In December 2002 I launched my personal website Hour after hour I wrote in plain language, truthfully and honestly, what had happened and how I viewed the big picture.

I felt God was saying that this theophany, as I called it, was God showing himself, calling people to repent of their sins and U-turn to HIM. The tragedy of the terrorist attack on New York on September 11th 2001 was another one of God’s dramatic wake-up calls. His message was clear: HE is a God, who loves us and wants all to be saved.  We must turn from lies, which leads to panic. We must love others, not exercise power over them. Our reward will be peace and eternal life.

Sending emails became a daily ritual. I would write to newspapers and comment on articles, viewing things in a humorous way. Invent funny scenarios out of a few bits of doubtful information in the newspaper or on radio, kept my busy mind occupied and free from stress. I challenged everything. Before long I found myself fighting on another battlefront – lies in the media. I had come across many articles, some of which I suspected were simply not true, others I inferred were pure fabrication. One car crash, involving a motorcyclist’s death, I believe God showed me, was staged from A-Z, including a fake funeral.

I made jokes about company recalls of products, when certain aspects didn’t make sense. For instance, a suspected salmonella contamination resulted in a voluntary recall. Salmonella poisoning is a deadly illness, a voluntary re-call would be madness. I had started creating different words, using a code, which had developed almost by accident, over a few years. Salmonella in my code could be translated to mean: SA L Man & all.  Recall meant re: call  (the call God made for us to repent).

Gradually I felt as if the public was taking notice of my emails. As my mind picked up certain comments or numbers, names or data, I imagined these to be responses to an email I had sent. For instance, when I had claimed there is a possibility the Magistrate, jailed for pedophilia, may have been framed, the headline in the local newspaper had read: Up the creek. This expressed perfectly what people thought about me, and my outlandish thinking.

Leading a double life

My wife believed, and still does at the time of writing (early December 2004) that my observations and subsequent thinking processes were an outworking of my mental illness. She no longer recommends I take tablets, which she has done until recently, but still refuses to believe that God could use numbers, names and circumstances to bring home HIS message. I argued, how could good fruit and bad fruit grow on the same tree. Much of what I did I regarded as good. Because there was little reward financially for what I did, my family could not see any value in my actions.   

I became increasingly frustrated with my wife, as she became increasingly stubborn, refusing to even listen to me. I likened my wife to the unbelieving world: Even if a dead man rose to life again, some would not believe, I thought. My friends, who have read and believed that God was behind my work, I compared to those, who keep their faith private; no need to pass on the Good News. Whatever will be will be, would be a good slogan for such contented believer. Her doubt about it all and my passion for the truth became a source of pain for both of us.

It came down to a simple truth: Either I was really ill in my thinking (that God’s spirit was behind my actions) or my doubting wife was making a big fool of herself, by refusing to even listen to what I had to say. I kept saying to her: How can you pass judgment on an author, without having read (and tried to understand) his works? Surprisingly, we stayed happily married. 

Surprise excursion to the USA

In early 2003, at the beginning of the Iraqi war, my faith was tested to the limit. During a visit to a driving instructor’s event, I felt God was leading me to travel to the United States, quite unexpected for everyone. The day of leaving to fly out, I had a dream at 3.15 am. It was a strategy to win the war, which I later shared with two or three people in the US.

Through miraculous circumstances, later I described it as moving in a different sphere of awareness; I was able to catch a flight to the US and wandered around Los Angeles for ten days. I acted as if I was on autopilot. I followed external stimuli, often guided by numbers or names, plus inner promptings after spontaneous and/or desperate prayers.

My efforts to find a listening ear in the US, fell on deaf ones everywhere. Firstly, at the famous TV Church in California, the one I watched every Sunday. Also at a large Bible College, which I was led to by (I believed) divine guidance. Even the police and FBI, which I had contacted, because I was running out of cash, didn’t show much interest in my story or my plight.

Much of what took place had already been uploaded onto the Internet before my USA stint. One church I touched base with told me of another, who believed that the second coming had taken place and my story was part of it. I was naïve to email this comment to my worrying wife back in Adelaide, who was desperate to have her ‘normal’ husband back.

I returned willingly, having not found anyone, who would listen to my theophany story. My faith was shaken to the core after my return. The family’s rebuke for leaving without notice, for wasting much money, for not taking my tablets or listening to medical advise, were my daily diet for many weeks. At times I thought I could stand it no longer and was ready to seek help in a mental institution.

But slowly God started to move things to a higher level. He work more co-incidences, which I called miracles. I started to understand, why God had been leading me to the USA and from one place to another. It was a test of obedience for me, and a sign to doubters in the US. Those who had read about my story online, and found it hard to believe, saw that I was a real person. This follows, if God could work miracles for me in the US, why could HE not do it in Australia? HE did. Until this day, God has been leading me, showing me things, leading me to places, where I would later say – I’ve come to the right place.

Blowing the whistle big time

Readers of my story, those who doubted what I had written, were constantly testing me. I felt it so many times. Often I didn’t even know I was being tested. Only after certain data, numbers, names or events couldn’t be co-incidental, did I realize God again had led me to the right place. This was the way God worked. It strengthened my faith. Despite having had no direct feedback and no public acknowledgement, I felt many people were accepting what I had written. I prayed that many would find God through it.

Through my constant emails to the media and to politicians, I reached a certain level of notoriety. What people thought of me didn’t matter. In my larrikin fashion I sent a few symbolic presents to a Member of Parliament, simple items with a message behind it. Ultimately, I was hoping for some help in my fight for the truth; initially in the driver education issue, but later in the Liddy case and many more injustices I discovered. My mind questioned everything, except God’s goodness and HIS passion for justice. Later in 2004 I blew the whistle on what I perceived to be corruption of such proportion that it could have affected the outcome of the Federal Election.

The Internet became a powerful research tool. I sent my findings (of lies or anything that didn’t make sense) far and wide; to the BBC in London or a US current affairs program. In my mind I perceived that many people, even in high places, were taking my writing seriously.  Operating by faith (and on a shoestring budget), I continued my solo adventure trip, without help from outsiders. The Christian Community stayed distant and rather quiet, which surprised me.

One of my most radical challenges was the truth of DNA as a tool to identify people. I cast doubt on the claim that a swab of saliva from inside your mouth and transferred onto a piece of tissue paper, is able to identify a person 20 years later. Such scientific magic was beyond me. I discovered a code in the bible, which made me whistle blow about DNA firstly, to the richest man in Australia and later on my website. I challenged anybody, to explain to me in simple terms, how DNA really works. Nobody has as much as discussed the possibility that I am wrong in my thinking.

My world of codes revealed

The opposite is the case. More and more I was getting the message, that what I had written, made sense and to keep on going. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the messages were not in plain English, but in the same coded language mentioned earlier. I decoded the title of the controversial film Fahrenheit 911 - ‘Fahren’ as the German word for ‘driving’ and he and it separately. The film title addressed my question, who was ‘it’ – Driving, he it!

Another decoding feat was that of a world-wide Church Revival Program called ’40 days of purpose’. Their slogan: What on earth am I here for – I made into: What? No earth. I am for re:he.

I may have been the only person in South Australia, who did not condemn the man, the Magistrate, who is in jail for abusing young boys. There might have been another reason, why nobody communicated with me - fear of association. I had linked my car registration plate 228 to Psalm 22 and Verse 8. This scripture basically says, “If he thinks God is behind all this (he is God’s pal), then he has all the help he needs”.

It was perfectly true. I had originally linked Ps. 22, 8 and other scriptures to my story. Acts Chapter 22 and Verse 8 – “So I answered: Who are you Lord? And He said to me: “I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting”. Perhaps people as far back as 2002 had thought that I was thinking of myself as the Saviour who was to come. I certainly had not made any assumption of such magnitude back then.

But the more I experienced and published incredible miracles onto my website, the more indirect, veiled feedback I was receiving. After the earth-shattering (literally) events of Christmas 2003, people started to think of me as someone special. Christians were taking notice after I had called myself a prophet. Slowly, the blurry picture started to crystallize. Not only did other people think I was HE, one event made me think, perhaps it happened, because God wanted to confirm what many suspected.

A Royal visit - this is it

On August 9th 2004 I was led, by divine guidance, no question, to drive to a Ward Street. If I changed the a to o, it spells the name of what the bible says will never pass away – HIS Word. Just at that moment my odometer in my Suzuki read 177777. If God was not behind this, HE would be a very cruel being. No, no and no again. HE was (and is and will forever be) the wind beneath my wings.

One of the most painful steps I ever took was “coming out” early in November 2004. I confessed to my true colours of identity. Doubts and fears were no excuse to not own up to my responsibility, my calling to do HIS will for HIS glory.

My grand revelation came, almost to the day, of the re-election of George Bush for a second term in the White House. There were times when I thought some of my email traffic to the US and articles on my website concerning moral issues had contributed to. It does not matter. God will have HIS way with HIS world. HIS plans are for good and not for evil.  You can trust HIM.

‘It’ was God visiting the earth in human form for a second time.