The Day I Chose to Leave Shincheonji

FROM LIVED EXPERIENCE

Written by the Founder of ABLE&ANEW

My decision to leave Shincheonji came down to something very simple:

I wanted my freedom back.

I wanted autonomy. I wanted control over my own life. And after almost five years, I reached a point where I could no longer ignore what my mind and body were telling me.

When I Realised I Wasn't Okay

Before leaving, I was overwhelmed with stress. I missed two church services in a row and had started withdrawing from calls and messages.

When I returned virtually to complete a life-of-faith duty, a senior task-given worker asked me to stay back afterwards. I expected to speak with one person.

Instead, there were two senior workers waiting for me, and I was immediately questioned about where I had been and why I had not been communicating.

To me, it felt like an ambush.

I tried to explain that I was struggling and finding it difficult to keep up with my Shincheonji duties.

I remember saying:

“I'm already fighting my family for control over my own life. I cannot fight my church for control as well.”

I was asking for support.

Instead, I felt corrected.

I Tried to Open Up Again

The following day, my group leader asked to catch up with me.

I thought we were going to talk. Instead, before the conversation, I was asked to sit through an hour-long service, which I understood was intended to “soften my heart” before we spoke.

By then, I had been avoiding my group leader's calls and messages because I was overwhelmed. At one point, I received nine calls in one day.

I finally told my group leader exactly what was happening.

I wasn't okay.

Seeing the name appear on my phone could make me physically shake from nerves. There were times when I would vomit before class. I had even contemplated moving countries because I felt so overwhelmed.

During that conversation, I could hear communication through an earpiece and typing while I answered questions. The way the conversation was being handled also reminded me of communication approaches I had previously used myself with potential recruits.

I interpreted what I was hearing as someone providing guidance on how to respond to me and my answers being documented.

When I later confronted my group leader about the earpiece, the communication wasn't denied. I was told they were trying to help me.

But by then, I had stopped wanting to fight to be understood.

My group leader also explained that rather than calling or texting something like, “Hey, is everything okay?”, the approach could simply be:

“Where are you?”

And honestly, I remember thinking:

Damn. I'm 24 years old. Why do I constantly feel like I'm in trouble? Why do I feel like I'm being monitored?

I understood that I had become unresponsive.

But I was trying to explain why I had become unresponsive.

I didn't need someone to chase me harder.

I needed someone to understand why I was withdrawing in the first place.

My Life of Faith Wasn't Sustainable Anymore

I told my group leader plainly:

My life of faith in Shincheonji is not sustainable.

My body probably could have kept going.

I could have kept attending services, completing duties and showing up.

Mentally, I couldn't do it anymore.

The response I received was essentially that I needed to spend more time listening to the Word.

That was when the disconnect became impossible for me to ignore.

I wasn't asking how to become better at enduring it. I was saying I couldn't live like this anymore.

I didn't need someone to tell me to listen to the Word more.

I needed someone to listen to me.

Freedom Became More Important Than Fear

When I began talking about leaving, different leaders asked me questions.

Was it the Word?

Had somebody in the church hurt me?

Was it my personal life?

Was I not scared of the consequences?

Did I not have fear?

I was also reminded that Shincheonji was going through a difficult period, that the promised pastor was in prison and that, according to the beliefs being expressed to me, Satan was attacking the church. I was encouraged to hold onto the church even tighter.

But I kept bringing everything back to one thing:

Autonomy.

There wasn't one person or one incident that made me leave.

After almost five years, my question was no longer:

“What am I scared will happen if I leave?”

It became:

“What is going to happen to me if I stay?”

I had been taught that leaving Shincheonji meant turning away from God and facing eternal consequences.

But eventually I asked myself:

If getting to heaven meant giving up my freedom and autonomy while I was here on earth, was I still willing to pay that price?

My answer was no.

Freedom had become more important to me than fear.

The Day I Left

My tribe leader gave me two days to think about my decision while my situation was discussed with the head of the church.

Two days later, my answer hadn't changed.

I was leaving.

What surprised me was that the door was left open.

My tribe leader told me not to completely cut ties and said that if I experienced difficulties or needed someone to talk to, they would still be there.

That wasn't how I expected leaving to look.

I have my own interpretation of why my departure was handled that way, but I cannot know what was privately discussed or why certain decisions were made.

What I do know is why I left.

I wanted ownership over my life.

I wanted to chase my dreams.

I wanted my decisions to belong to me.

I wanted to be free.

This Isn't the End of My Faith

I haven't been able to pick up a Bible just yet.

And honestly, I'm giving myself permission not to rush that.

But spiritually, I know this isn't the end of my faith.

I still believe it is possible to believe in God and have freedom.

I don't believe faith has to mean losing myself.

The faith I choose to carry forward is one where I can believe in God while still having autonomy, dreams, choices and ownership over my own life.

I have free will, and I cherish it.

I value freedom.

Leaving Shincheonji was not me deciding that I never wanted faith again.

For me, it was choosing the kind of faith I want to live.

A faith where I can believe in God and still be free.

Disclaimer

This article reflects my personal lived experience and recollection of leaving Shincheonji. It represents my own experiences, perspectives and interpretations and should not be taken as representing the experiences of every current or former member. Individual experiences may differ.

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