by Anonymous
Remembering my childhood is not easy. Most memories of my
growing up come back to me in daydreams, at most a blurry
reflection of those events which brought me to my existence and
beliefs today. Yet, one thing I do remember vividly is the look
of sadness and concern on my father's face when I told him for
the first of many times that I did not share the same Baptist
beliefs as he did. His forehead wrinkled and his sad brown eyes
glanced over me in pity as he shook his head and predicted, "Well
then, you will have to learn the hard way."
Almost five years later, my father's words still haunt me,
mostly because they have proven to be true in every facet of my
life: in relationships with people, in excelling in school, in
overcoming occupational obstacles, and especially in religion.
It is almost every parent's dream that their children carry on
family traditions, yet when children choose not to live up to
those aspirations, much bitterness and confusion is likely to
ensue. My parents blamed themselves when I deviated from their
religious orientation, and in doing so, missed their opportunity
to question my new "religion". In retrospect, I do not believe
that I chose a religion. A self-proclaimed "religion" chose
me.
To give you some background on myself, I am a technical writer
and will graduate from the University of California at Berkeley
in May 1997. From April 15, 1993 until March 23, 1994, I
belonged to the San Francisco Church of Christ (SFCC), a western
affiliate of the Boston Church of Christ (ICC). Hereafter, I
will refer to the group as the ICC. For obvious reasons, I have
replaced actual names with pseudonyms.
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I grew up in a non-religious environment in the sense that my
family rarely went to church, hardly ever prayed before a meal or
going to bed, and seldom cracked open a Bible. Just the same, I
was considered to be a Baptist all my life. Both my parent were
raised in very strict religious environments, both brought up by
single, black Baptist women. Both my parents, for their own
reasons, turned away from the ritual of religion, and sought
their own ambitions, though still praising God from time to
time. My only guess is that these were echoes from their
childhoods.
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While religion was put aside, economic ambition was strongly
emphasized in my family, Growing up poor and black, my parents
sought the American dream in nice houses, big lawns, fancy cars.
In order to achieve their material dreams, my parents had to, and
continue to this very day, work very hard.
Unfortunately, our home life suffered as a result. Forced to
attend a predominantly white high school where I was often the
only black girl in my classes, I was very alienated and lonely.
My parents thought that the only way for me to achieve financial
success later on in life was if I was to attend and assimilate
into this particular high school, and they would not allow my
transfer to a more diverse school only fifteen minutes away.
When I tried to talk to my parents about how miserable I was
being such an obvious minority, they merely shrugged it off or
became very angry as they told me that they were tired from
working so hard so that I did not have to grow up in poverty like
they did.
When I got accepted to U.C. Berkeley, my parents were very
happy for me because this marked another step in their legacy of
financial success. I was very happy too, because I was going to
be attending a multicultural, interracial school for the first
time in many years.
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Coming to Berkeley, I was very unprepared for the reaction I
would get from such a diverse institution. Many white students
in my dorm and in my classes asked me questions concerning my
blackness which were just as ignorant as the ones asked by the
white students in high school. Many of the black students
spurned me because I did not come from the ghetto and, according
to them, I had led "the privileged life". For the first few
months, I hung around mostly Asian and Latino students, yet still
felt alienated when they began to speak in their other tongue
around me to one another or to relate to one another through
their cultural similarities. I often questioned my own existence
around them, as they did not make very much eye contact with me.
Only as an afterthought did they invite me to their parties or to
eat in the dining commons with them, and even then, I found
myself all alone.
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In February 1992, I was sitting in the dining commons in the
dormitory where I lived. I got up to put away my tray, and as I
stood in line waiting for the conveyor belt, I noticed a gigantic
smile, excited eyes and curly hair jumping up and down saying,
"And he's so awesome! And we're going out on another date this
weekend!" She seemed overly excited, but I didn’t care.
When I had placed my food on the belt, I turned around and
found myself face to face with her. She looked at me with
tenderness as if I was her long, lost friend and said, "Hi, my
name is Janice. Would you like to play volleyball with me and
some friends of mine?"
"No, thank you. I don't know how." I started to walk away.
"Oh, well, neither do we. We're just learning how. C'mon. It
should be a lot of fun."
I agreed and that next Saturday, I was out playing volleyball.
The girl who had invited me was not there. She was on her date,
so I just played with a friend I had invited to join me in my
humiliation. I was having fun, until I noticed that something
was very weird. Two men whom I did not know were hooting and
hollering for me on the sidelines. Every time I fumbled and
missed the ball, the guys on my team hissed at me, while the men
of the sidelines cheered me on:
"C'mon!"
"You can do it!"
Whenever I hit the ball correctly, the men on my team just
appeared to be relieved, while the men on the sidelines shouted
overexcitedly:
"Alright!"
"You go girl!"
I found out later that these two strange men were Janice's
friends, and that the men playing on the volleyball team were
just ordinary students living in the dorms.
That night, I got a phone call from Janice inviting me to come
and check out her church. I said sure. I had nothing else to
do, so I went.
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The service was in a hotel ballroom in Concord, a good forty
minutes away from where I go to college. When I asked Janice why
the service was so far away, she said that they moved around
frequently. When we walked in, I was impressed with how
gentlemanly the men acted. Unlike the Baptist churches I had
sporadically attended during my life, this religious group was
multicultural. Blacks, whites, Chicanos, Latinos, Japanese,
Chinese, Native Americans, and others gathered together under the
same roof for one purpose -- to worship God. As Janice led me
down the aisle to our seats, she was greeted by just about
everyone. "You actually know these people?" I said. "Yeah," she
answered, looking dreamily into the distance. "We take care of
one another."
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The service began when four older men called song leaders took
the stage. The crowd cheered the head song leader on as he led
us into a very upbeat and lively song which all the members knew
by heart. Jance arranged for me to have a songbook, and passed
it to me, squeezing my knee in overly enthusiastic glee.
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After the song, a married couple came to the podium. The
members in the audience continued to cheer them on. Both of them
discussed how sinful and immoral they were before they came to
God. Then, they both described how and when they were met,
motioning to the member in the crowd responsible for their
relationship with God at which time the crowd's attentions
shifted in admiration of the fruitful disciple. After telling of
their baptism and subsequent forgiveness, both members
reiterated the power of the Cross, (Jesus' death) to work in our
lives.
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After confession came communion, the traditional weekly
passing of the bread and wine. I wondered why such a modernized
group would stick to such an old custom, but I did not question
it, for the bread and grape juice were coming around, I had not
eaten since the night before, and I was hungry. When communion
came to me, I broke off a piece of bread and stuffed it in my
mouth, then washed it down with the thimble full of juice
provided. It was tasty. Janice looked at me in shock. I found
out later that communion was a spiritual event and only disciples
were allowed to take part in it.
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Suddenly a hush fell over the crowd of bowed heads. A short,
dimpled white man with a big smile took the podium alone. The
crowd erupted and cheered with the tenacity of a nation welcoming
its new king to the throne. "Come on, Michael!" "You go, bro'!"
"Alright now, Michael!" Michael was the lead evangelist for the
sector.
Michael proceeded with his message,--"Come on", Michael!"--
which began by informing the crowd of the depraved state of the
world,-- "Yes, Michael!" --and the immorality of all mankind. He
went on to describe how God had great plans for us--"Yes Lord!"--
before we went astray and threw it all away with our sinful ways.
Then, he told us to hear the message, read the Bible, repent of
our many sins, get baptized, help make more disciples--"You go'
bro'!--", and keep going to God daily. He reminded us that we
must remember God, or else, God may not remember us. After
reading some guilt inducing interpretations of scriptures from
the Bible, he told us that we were all special and loved by God.
He urged disciples to study the Bible out with visitors, and for
visitors to open their hearts to the Word of God.--"Amen!"
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The song leaders took the stage again, and we sang three more
songs before the service was dismissed. During this song,
members and visitors linked arms and held hands to show their
unity and love for one another, singing phrases over and over
again, smiling, happy. I had never seen anything like it in my
life -- certainly at none of the black Baptist churches I had
attended.
After the service, Janice introduced me to some other members
before we went to lunch together. All were very interested in
me, asking how I liked the service, then about my family and
background. Later, she called me on the phone and asked me if I
would like to study the Bible. I said sure.
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Bible Studies
Bible studies were issued to new recruits in varied orders
depending on the needs of the recruit. The studies I went
through were The Word, Discipleship, Baptism, The Kingdom, The
Cross, Light and Darkness, and Counting the Costs. Each
subsequent study was supposed to narrow my options more and more
until I broke, and begged them to save my soul. The following is
a synopsis of these studies and the ways in which they were
administered. Blinded by the promise of being saved, I endured
the verbal abuse of the studies. Also, the group advertised
itself as fun, caring, and safe; making sure that they met my
needs, serving me.
My the first study was an introductory one in which Janice
asked me personal questions about my relationship with God and
whether or not I felt I was serving God with my whole heart.
After she persuaded me that I was not serving God by just going
to school and doing well, she showed me a scripture in Jeremiah
about how God "has plans" for me to "prosper". The study
consisted of a cycle of rebuking (verbal abusing) me for my past
sins against God, then praising me for my desire to be right
before God. I was scared, but very much relieved at the same
time.
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A week later, Janice brought a fellow sister to the Bible
study, Paula. Paula took notes while Janice threw obscure
scriptures at me from the Bible, asking me to interpret them. I
would give my opinion of what they meant, then she would rebut my
responses, reading the scripture again and again until her
version of interpretation seemed the only valid one. Janice kept
drilling Matthew 28:19 into my head. It was supposedly "the last
command." The cult referred to it as the "great mission." The
scripture, and I know it by heart, says:
"Therefore, go, and make disciples of all nations,
baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of
the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have
commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end
of the age".
And this, I was told, is how a true Christian or a disciple
of Jesus must live. "Christian = disciple = saved." Janice,
Paula and I sat, read, interpreted, and reinterpreted scriptures
until I was convinced that I was not saved.
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A few days later, Janice, Paula and I studied out baptism.
Janice and Paula made a big deal about the practice of baptism
and how those of other churches were invalid. SFCC of the ICC
requires full immersion of a new disciple into a body of water.
Showing me several scriptures where the saved were immersed in
water, they reiterated the importance and urgency of becoming a
disciple. In all the scriptures, they showed how the people who
immediately heard the Word of God practically went diving into
the waters of baptism. This urgency served to speed up the
process of my recruitment into their system.
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One of the most confusing and ill-taught study for me was the
Kingdom study. Surprisingly, this study led by the women's
counselor, (the cult's term for "female evangelist," because
women were on a lower spiritual level than men) consisted of a
barrage of prophetic scriptures from the Old Testament, and
apocalyptic scriptures from Revelations.
The woman's counselor, Michelle, seemed confused even when she
tried to describe the metaphorical meaning behind the signs and
visions of the past and the future. The study did not last as
long as the other ones and I was very afraid.
Afterwards, Janice and Michelle talked to me enthusiastically
about school and my family, soothing me. They made it seem like
every word from my mouth was the most intelligent and insightful
thing they had ever heard. Later, while walking me home, Janice
asked me to bring a list of my sins to the next study.
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A few days later, Janice and I studied the Cross. Janice took
me to a small, private ice cream parlor where she insisted on
buying me a cone. After having chosen a table, Janice reached
into her backpack and pulled out what appeared to be a report.
"Did you bring your sin list."
"Yes." I gave her the list of feelings of anger, hatred,
frustration, resentfulness, and sexual attraction.
"Okay." She glanced over the list, to my horror. It was
private. Between me and God. She handed me a booklet. "Now
read this."
I read the title of the report: A Medical Analysis of
the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ. The report was lengthy,
detailed, and highly graphic. Supposedly, a doctor had analyzed
the crucifixion of Jesus and came up with some startling
conclusions. Apparently, as the report stated, Jesus did not die
on the Cross, but after having been bled on the Cross for long
hours and then finished off, a large rod shoved up into His
intestines by dissenters. I was extremely disturbed by this
piece of literature.
"So what do you think?"
"It's pretty gruesome." I didn't really know what to say.
"Yeah, and to think, you did it to Him."
"What?!"
"You killed Jesus, just like they did. Just look at your many
sins." She showed me the list. "With these sins, you have nailed
Jesus to the Cross! But everything is going to be alright. God
will forgive you. You must become a disciple."
I was far too confused to ask anymore questions, because I
knew that she would just make me look stupid by reading some
obscure scripture from the Bible. I was humiliated and
depressed. I looked at the medical analysis one more time,
reading about the horrible death of Jesus Christ. I began crying
out of fear.
"You feel guilty. I know. But it is alright. God will
forgive you. You must be baptized."
"Can I take this home and think it over?" I motioned to the
report.
"No," she quickly grabbed the report and shoved it into her
backpack. "This is my only copy. The Bible is all you need to
make your decision."
I wondered why she chose to show me that supplementary report
if the Bible was all that I needed in order to understand why I
should become a disciple. But by then, I was afraid to ask
questions. I was afraid of how I would look before them and
their God. And I was very much afraid of going to Hell.
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I had been studying the Bible for a month when I did the Light
and Darkness study with Janice and another sister. This study
would make or break me. I was taught to believe that I had to be
a disciple if I was to ever get into Heaven. So I was hooked,
even though I did not agree with some of the interpretations of
sin in Light and Darkness, such as the one that said that my
looking at a guy who I considered to be physically attractive was
the same sin as killing forty people on a subway.
I was told to look at spiritual and not worldly aspects of
things. Janice reminded me that I was to forevermore associate
with God's kingdom and refuse the world. Dating outside the
group was forbidden. Friendships formed under any other premise
than saving lives were frowned upon. We were in the light and
everyone else was lost, in the darkness.
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My friends warned me. They showed me the ICC cult information
packet. I did not believe that the ICC and the SFCC were
affiliated. I laughed as I read the packet as it was outdated
and written from the perspective of more conservative Easterners.
They even showed me a teen magazine article about a girl who left
one of the Churches of Christ. Relatives of former members
called me and told me what I was getting into. Even my own
father said, "Why are you doing this to me?" when I told him I
was going to get baptized.
"Dad, I am not doing this to you. I am doing this for
you."
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I was baptized April 15, 1993. Before the baptism, I did the
last study of becoming a disciple, Counting the Costs, which
consists of confessing any last-minute sins, and then dedicating
yourself to applying the Bible to your life, making Jesus your
Lord.
I brought the magazine article written by a sixteen-year-old
girl to who had belonged to the so-called Churches of Christ.
The girl had left the group because of the tremendous pressure
the cult put on her to be perfect, or at least to live up to a
standard of perfection. I told Michelle to read the article and
please tell me if I was about to join the same group mentioned in
that article.
Michelle glanced momentarily at the article, then set the
magazine face up on the table. She whipped out her Bible and
plopped it down next to the magazine and said, "Which one are you
going to listen to?"
As I looked down at the teen magazine, I saw a prissy cover-
girl on the front page with a big, stupid grin. The headline
said something like, "How To Have The Boy of Your Dreams Wrapped
Around Your Little Finger". Below that in fluorescent ink it
said, "I Belonged to a Cult!", then something about prom
nightmares. I looked at the Bible and it looked back at me with
seriousness. I chose the Bible. Michelle and Janice were
elated.
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After I was baptized, disciples I did not know came up to me,
hugged me, asked me how I was doing. But I had a hard time being
out of myself. I was never a socialite, and being forgiven for
my many sins and getting dunked did not change a thing. I had to
eventually force myself to converse with others during
fellowship, yet most of the time, I spoke of worldly things like
parents, school, friends, jobs, grades. I rarely spoke of
spiritual things like my relationship with God, how much I loved
God, or what I was willing to do to serve God.
Janice became my discipler (spiritual leader). She and other
disciples constantly rebuked, or verbally abused me on what I
talked about when I talked to people. I was not deep enough, and
in order for me to be deeper and more spiritual, I had to be
closer to God. I prayed, fasted, skipped classes, avoided
friends who did not go to the cult; I completely cut myself off
from all things not connected with the cult in the name of
carrying out God's purpose.
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During the next few months, I noticed many changes in my life.
Janice, once eager to hang out with me and be a friend, focused
her attentions on recruiting others. Frequently, I knew that I
had a lot to say to people, but I could not for fear of getting
rebuked. I had a lot of stifled feelings, and I cried almost
every day. I thought that my crying was a sign that I had come
closer to God, when actually, we were further apart than ever. I
could not even trust my own judgment when it came to reading the
Bible. All my thoughts and actions were exposed, and changed to
fit the cult's interpretation of the Bible.
There are many events in particular that really opened my eyes
to the hypocrisy, deceitfulness and cruelty of the group. These
major events caused me to eventually fall away (withdraw) from
the SFCC.
- Once, in fellowship, a brother asked me what I prayed for
when I prayed to God. I told him , even though I felt very
uncomfortable answering such a personal question, that I thanked
God for the disciples, my physical family, and other stuff, like
I praised Him for beautiful days and the like. The brother got
really upset and said firmly, "You better be praying for Jesus
and thankful that He died on the Cross for you!" I was extremely
confused, hurt and angry after this unprovoked confrontation. I
tried to talk to several leaders about this and they said that I
was being too emotional, and that I was in sin. Months later,
the same brother approached me in an all-congregational service.
He remembered me. "Sister, what do you pray for now?" I lied
and told him I imagined that Jesus' blood as He died for us on
the Cross. The brother praised me. I had never felt shame and
confusion as I felt at that moment.
- Once I was at child-care, which is when members are chosen
to come into church early and have an early miniature service, as
they must take care of people's young children during the regular
service. We sang a song before communion. The song was all
about Jesus dying on the Cross, and his blood covering our sin,
and how we did it to Him, and how we must be broken over our sin.
It was a song which was meant, I thought, to provoke deep thought
and self-analysis, a serious song. The song leader demanded that
we smile in joy as we sang a slow, melancholy dirge. I did so,
because I was instructed to by a more spiritually mature, male
member. I was so confused and angry when the song was over that
I wanted to cry. I felt like someone had whipped me, telling me
that they would not stop until I laughed from the joy I was
receiving.
- Over the summer, some pre-cult (worldly) friends and I had
planned a trip to Mexico. The cult was really against vacations.
They even urged college students who lived out-of-state to stay
in Berkeley, so that they could serve the ministry and not be
tempted to digress to their old ways. Well, they let me go
because I had already paid for the trip long before I was a
disciple and I did not appear to be struggling spiritually.
While I was in Mexico, I had a great time away from the
disciples, despite the fact that I was sexually immoral. I had
some sexual thoughts about some of the guys on the beach, and was
sexually attracted and aroused as a result. In addition, I had
watched a very provocative movie in the hotel room I shared with
my high school friend. I had to confess all this and more to
Janice when I got home.
"Did you think about Jesus at all while you were in
Mexico?"
"What?!" I was shocked and upset that she would ask
such a question.
"Jesus died because of people like you -- sinful
people who compromise! He died because you were sexually
immoral! You nailed Jesus to the cross, again! You're a
murderer!"
After she forced me to give a moment-to-moment
description of every last sinful detail of my trip to Mexico, I
was reduced to shame. I felt so guilty for the next week that I
was ashamed to show my face. As time passed, my discipler forgot
about what she said to me while I was in Mexico. I never
did.
- At one all-campus devotional, we were read a scripture
about faith and the evangelist distorted it to mean that we are
all sinners and that unless we started bringing in more
prospective recruits, God was going to cut off all connections
with us. I felt attacked and humiliated. I told a sister how
awful it was for the evangelist to get up on the pulpit, squeeze
that scripture dry, and call us all sinners just because we were
not growing in numbers as rapidly as he had wanted. The sister
said that she did not feel attacked, but inspired. She gave me a
funny look, as if I was being ungrateful and should have enjoyed
his verbal abuse.
- We were commanded to share our faith daily (inviting
people to church). At first, inviting one person a day to church
was enough. After a while, demands increased. The cult demanded
that we make a lifestyle out of meeting people, inviting them to
church, explaining how our lives were changed by Jesus and the
Cross, studying the Bible with them, and making them disciples.
There was no such thing as "free time." All time was spent doing
things for the advancement of the Kingdom. If we did not bring
people to church regularly, we were branded as struggling
(ineffective and sinful).
As with many elitist, religious groups, the SFCC
believes that all who do not belong to their church are going to
the fiery depths of Hell, although they will not mention this to
a brand-new recruit, only weeks to months after his/her first
being met. My life became a mad struggle to save my friends, my
relatives, and the entire population of the world.
- We were told that everything we have, we do not deserve.
All we had was given to us by God for the benefit of the Kingdom.
Women sold their diamond rings. Men sold their cars. They did
this to give to the church so that they could afford to pay the
evangelists. This is all under the guise of saving the
world.
Three times during my involvement, we were forced to
fork over fifteen to sixteen times our regular contribution (10%
of our weekly income) for special missions contributions, (the
betterment of much-talked-about-but-never-seen overseas
establishments). Since it is very difficult to obtain 153% of
one's income, we often had fund-raisers. One middle-class man
would not do this, saying the Bible says that he must only hand
over a tenth of his income. They disfellowshipped him for
dissent.
Likewise, I was warned that if I were to lower my
weekly contributions for any reason, I would be in serious
trouble with the cult's financial coordinators. At one point, my
discipler humiliated me until I forked over a ten dollar check
which was sure to bounce as I was between jobs. Thus, I obtained
an emergency student loan to help pay for my second special
missions' contribution. In addition, I bounced over $300.00 in
overdrawn checks as I could not keep up with the cult's demands.
All in all, I spent about $1500.00 in my eleven month
involvement.
- Attendance, once optional, became mandatory. Everyone was
urged repeatedly and strongly to bring a friend. I went on
prayer walks in the freezing rain and cold when I had the flu, to
mid-week services when I had unwritten ten-page papers due the
following morning, and to campus devotionals when I would rather
have gone to the movies like all the other college students.
When I wanted to go to a comedy club with some worldly friends
after a campus devotional one Friday, I was rebuked for not
discussing it with my discipler first and being
independent.
- Commitment was mandatory. Sunday service and lunch - 5
hours, Monday Bible Talk meetings - 2 hours, Tuesday discipleship
(confessional) times - 1-2 hours, mid-week service - 5 hours,
Friday campus devotionals - 5 hours, Saturday dates - 4 to 5
hours. If I had a paper or a report or a lab or a problem set
due, I had to schedule it around church activities. If I was
tired because I had stayed up all night to finish homework after
church sucked up all my time, I was branded as sinful for being
undisciplined. It was a perpetual cycle. (Note: All times
include preparation, the activity itself, and required
fellowshipping times following the activities).
- I had a class with one gorgeous guy who did not belong to
the SFCC. He kept looking at me from across the classroom. I
looked his way once and had to pretend that I was disgusted by
the attention he was giving me. During the rest of class, I kept
sneaking peeks. Later that week, I was talking to a sister when
I mentioned him nonchalantly.
"Oh, and by the way, I sort of had some interest in a
guy outside of the church."
"When?!"
"Earlier this week."
"Why are you just telling me now!?" It was obvious
she was becoming unglued.
"Because I didn't think it was that important. I
mean, I didn't look at him but once. And I didn't do anything.
I didn't talk to him. I pretty much gave him the idea that I was
not interested." I sensed a rebuking, so I fumbled to correct
myself to no avail.
"But it's still sin to be attracted to someone
outside of the church. And it's an even bigger sin now that
you've let it simmer!"
"But nothing happened!"
"Satan works! The next time he sees you, he might
ask you to get together to study at his place. You go over
there, like an ox going to slaughter. You're attracted to him.
One thing leads to another. And before you know it, you're in
serious sin!"
I was being rebuked for things I did not do, but
things that the leaders imagined I would do because they did not
trust my judgment, and they certainly did not want me to trust my
own.
- I remember, for several months, I would pray on my knees
each night before I went to bed that God would kill me overnight,
so that I did not have to go on another day as a disciple. I
hated my life. All that mattered to me was going to Heaven. I
did not care who I hurt, how I wasted my money; all I wanted was
to get to Heaven. Even when I prayed this out loud in circles
with my Bible Talk and Discipleship Group, they "Yes Lorded" and
"Amen'd" my death wish prayers to God.
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I think that the turning point occurred when I was really
burnt out one night because with church activities and my
obsession to do well in school, I had slept only four hours in a
three day span. I was so exhausted on Friday that I could hardly
keep my eyes peeled open. I was hanging out with my discipler
and her other disciple at a cafe. Both were older than me
spiritually. We were going to confess our sins to one another
and then go to the campus devotional.
"You're being awfully quiet."
"What? Oh yeah, I'm just tired. That's all. I only got
about four hours of sleep in the last three days, and I'm not all
here now. I can barely process what you say, much less respond
to it." I did not know whether or not I made sense, and frankly,
did not care if I did or didn't.
"Oh, well that works for you, but think about us. I mean,
we're tired too. It's very selfish of you to sit up there and
not at least try to be out of yourself."
"But I'm tired."
"Jesus was tired!"
For some reason, at that point in time, I realized that I was
not Jesus. The past eleven months had proved that over and over
again, but this time, it was evident. I was not Jesus. But I
could know say it, for fear of reproach.
"I can't even think." Which was true. I was not going to lie
anymore.
"Well, then obviously you're in sin. You refuse to live up to
Jesus' standard!"
I started crying and babbling, but my words were as incoherent
as my thoughts. The other sister turned to me, smiled and
laughed at my tears.
"Ya know, I think that these feelings you're feeling are just
feelings."
Then they both laughed, and so did I, as I had been trained to
do. One final uncomfortable laugh. Then, I was silent again.
What was wrong with having feelings? I thought.
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I left the cult on March 23, 1994. I finally came to terms
with the fact that the cult had torn me away from my family,
shattered my friendships, crushed my dreams of wanting to be a
writer or anything for that matter, and hurled me into a bitter
and confused relationship with God. Most of all, though, I knew
that the lie I was living was not going to ever get me into
Heaven. I did not think that I was and would ever be forgiven
for my multitude of sins.
I decided to fall away (or rather break away) after reading a
scripture in Proverbs. It was Spring Break and I was up early
one morning having my quiet time (required morning moments with
God), too early for a Spring Break morning. As I read the
scripture, it became more and more clear to me that I just did
not understand what the scripture was trying to say to me. In a
reflex, I reached for the phone to call one of the disciples for
an interpretation. Then, I held my hand in the air, thinking.
Why did I have to ask them for their interpretation? And what
difference did it make anyway? I was only getting up early,
pretending to be close to God, and essentially ruining my life to
be accepted into their group. That was the moment when I decided
to leave the SFCC.
One leader informed me, after I had told him how I prayed each
night that God would kill me, that in leaving the cult, I was
committing spiritual suicide. I cut off my communication with
the members after that chat. Since then, Janice called me
several times to tell me that I am selfish and lacking in
integrity for not wanting to talk to her.
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As time goes by, it is easier to understand the manipulative
tactics the cult used to suppress me and to distort the Bible for
their own use. About a year ago, I decided that I wanted to be a
true Christian, to worship God, and to have a relationship that
was not wrought with anxiety and guilt. After much searching, I
was finally led to New Life Christian Church in Concord. What was
really a problem for me was setting apart the cult's
interpretation of God and my own. I had convinced myself that,
even if He sends an angel to me telling me to go back to the
cult, I would rather burn in Hell than heed the angel's
warning.
But now, I am a lot more confidant in God and in His grace.
Researching different cults, including ICC, helped me to come to
a better understanding of the difference between religion and
cults. Religion is based on one’s convictions, while cults are
founded on coercion.
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The scariest thing since leaving the cult is not dealing with
people's reactions within the cult, but the reactions of people
outside of it. One guy who left the cult because of his desire
to be intimate with women kept calling me to remind me that Satan
had a stronghold on me as well, in the next breath he wanted to
meet me for a romantic interlude. (Suffice it to say, I did not
take him up on his offer).
A guy living in my dorm suggested that I visit other churches
to find the best church for me. When I told him that I just was
not interested in going to any church for a while, he said that I
had truly turned my back on God. (Most people who leave the ICC
need a lot of time to process their experience. It took me eight
months before I could go to church.)
When I mentioned to one teacher's aide how I was in the
process of writing an autobiography of my cult experience, she
was very excited for me and told me that she would be really
interested in reading my manuscripts; yet only moments later she
suggested to me that I was naive, gullible, and essentially
stupid for getting mixed-up in a cult in the first place. I
tried to explain to her that people don't look for cults to join,
cults look for people. My parents and a few ex-friends have been
wholly unsupportive of my cult awareness projects, as many see my
belonging to a cult as something I should be ashamed of,
something I should hide.
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I think that God strategically placed this situation with the
cult in my life to teach me a valuable lesson: that I must trust
my own judgment. If my lesson with the cult did not occur, I
would still be getting used by people, letting so-called friends
use me on a daily basis. Now, I am my own self, and I try not to
worry about what people think about me. I know that the most
important thing for me is to believe in myself, to know myself,
to see myself as deserving of great things, and to love myself
unconditionally.
That may sound self-centered and egotistical, but I do think
that the most difficult thing in the world is to love others when
you cannot even love yourself. A lot of people in this world
love themselves so much, that they forget to love other people.
People in cults think that they are loving the world by denying
themselves the right to love themselves. I have finally found a
happy medium.
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Right now, I am striving to make the issue of cults widely
known in my local area. In addition, I hope to make materials on
cults more readily available to those who may need them before
making life-sacrificing decisions. Such cult awareness resources
are needed everywhere. Indeed, I have learned about religion the
hard way. But when you think about it, is there any really easy
way to learn anything?
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Four years later after my involvement and I am on the verge of
graduation. (I still have to take a two-unit course in something
at a JC thanks to an overlooked lack of units required to
graduate.) I work at a computer company as a technical writer and
look forward to getting out of debt (if you want to be rich, stay
away from the three Cs--cults, college, and clothes).
Yesterday, I received a call from a friend of mine who
recently left the ICC -- Tien (her real name). Listening to her
sent me back to a time when I could think of nothing but the way
in which I was deceived. After hearing her out, I said, "Tien.
It's amazing. I never thought that I would get over being
controlled and manipulated in the way that the ICC did. I mean, I
thought that I would think about it every spare second of every
day for the rest of my life. But do you know that this whole day
went by and I did not even think of the ICC once--well, that is,
until you called with all this news."
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In Spring of '95, I started a student group on campus called
SCAN, for "Students for Cult Awareness, Now!" On one occasion
our sole means of advertising--a signboard on the main bridge to
campus--was stolen. On several occasions, it has been vandalized.
Our first project--to get more books on cults in the campus
libraries--was unsuccessful. We received all of our book request
forms back (about 20 in all) with notes claiming that most of
these works were not "scholarly" enough to merit purchase. All of
the recommended books were written or edited by people with their
MAs and PhDs!
Other explanations directed me to some obscure and unknown
library way back in the annals of the campus where students
rarely frequent. After certain members insisted that we use the
old "fight fire with fire" technique to combat cults and began
staging "Bible Battles" with members of the ICC, I became worried
that our mission to educate ethically had been distorted. Again,
I was confronted with what was right: to allow unethical behavior
to persist in the name of carrying out a group goal or to rule
out this behavior by controlling members' actions. SCAN disbanded
in '96 after such a dilemma could not be remedied.
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I have heard recently that the ICC mocked SCAN and what we
were trying to achieve. Here, I would like to make a statement
with regards to SCAN's successes:
SCAN was the second student group established at UC Berkeley
to combat cult mind control. Although the first group endured
only a semester, SCAN lasted a year and a half. During that time,
SCAN has personally assisted four students who were in the vices
of the ICC and helped them to make informed decisions. Out of
these four students who received help from SCAN, four left the
ICC. Most people who join the ICC will eventually leave anyway,
it's just a matter of whether they get help to piece back
together their lives or not.
I continue to be involved with cult awareness through
REVEAL. SCAN was affiliated with REVEAL, and many of the
ex-members who left the ICC have sought out and continue to seek
out support within REVEAL.
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The road to recovery has been winding and unpredictable thus
far. In February '96, just after The Boston
Movement: Critical Perspectives on the International
Churches of Christ was published, I became a
Christian.
The biggest difference between SCAN and REVEAL was that SCAN
was intended to look at the impact of psychologically damaging
cults from a strictly psychological perspective. REVEAL looks at
the same cults from spiritual and psychological perspectives. The
pastor at the church to which I belong, New Life Christian
Church, did extensive research on the Jehovah's Witnesses and
understands how both the Jehovah's Witnesses and the ICC replace
the gift of God's grace with the burden of works.
In conclusion, I would just like to thank the following people
who are making my road to recovery a lot less bumpy: Janja
Lalich, Exit-Counselor and former cult member; Hal Reynolds,
Student Activities Director at UC Berkeley; Michael Lisman,
Certified Therapist and former cult member; Michelle Campbell,
REVEAL coordinator and former ICC member; Catherine Hampton,
REVEAL coordinator and former ICC member; Art Barrett, Pastor at
New Life Christian Church; Karen Sims, member of New Life
Christian Church; Martha Miller, member of New Life Christian
Church; Kelvin Vivian, friend; Robert *******, a
random stranger I met on the Net who has the same last name as
mine, is a Christian pastor, and works as a Technical Writer (the
similarities here are weird!); and Rich Measures, fellow
participator on the ICC newsgroup (although I haven't logged on
in quite some time).
I believe that God has placed these people in my life so not
only can I have better understanding of what is of Him, but also
of what is NOT of Him--they have given me valuable insight. And I
thank God for the wonderful things that He has done to lift me
out of the doldrums of despair and into the light of the
Truth.
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