Attention is a drug, especially when it comes from the wrong person or the wrong group.

A few times in my life, I’ve found myself standing closer than I realized to a potentially life-altering decision involving the wrong people. The first time I didn’t understand what the situation might have been turning years later. The second time, the warning signs were much more obvious.

There were also a few questionable encounters in between that, thankfully I never entertained.

My most memorable experience getting mixed up with a cult happened when I was 26.

The irony is that I studied sociology. I had written papers about cult recruitment and even made YouTube videos discussing it.

Yet there I was, getting sucked in.

I was sad at the time. My first serious relationship was ending, and I was hopelessly trying to either to salvage it or figure out how to forget it. Then I received an Instagram message from a kind attractive stranger who invited me to a Bible study over Zoom with a group of other Christians.

Looking back, a stranger reaching out specifically to invite me to a religious group should have made me more cautious.

At the time, though it made sense to me. I had recently started a new Instagram account where I was open about my faith. I was trying to get closer to God after feeling as though I had gone astray.

Part of me worried whether God had simply sent me a new friend at exactly the right time.

The Bible study group seemed organized. Everyone seemed happy. We talked about mysteries and the secrets of heaven and repeatedly studied a handful of New Testament scriptures involving the Word as the seed.

It seemed harmless.

We met every Saturday. A larger group would eventually break into smaller group for discussion.

Then the friend who had originally contact me said his schedule had changed that he was attending a different Bible study.

Looking back, I believe he had been my recruiter. His job was to establish the initial connection, get me comfortable with the group, and then step away once I was integrated into it.

And I wasn’t the only one studying.

Other churches and Christians were portrayed as uniformed and more dangerous than any non-Christian. The idea that we could only believe what we learned here gradually became part of the group’s exclusive language and ideaology.

I remember during one of our small-groups meetings, I offered a different interpretation from the one we had been conditioned to give. She corrected me, not in a mean way, but matter-of-factly. It was subtle, but the message was clear: I wasn’t supposed to interpet things outside of the lines.

Gradually the commitment increased. Once a week became twice a week. Sessions became longer. Eventually, Tuesday nights involved breaking into even smaller groups.

I genuinely liked the women I studied with. They were kind, and I thought I was forming friendships with them outside the Bible study itself. Those friendships were non-existent once I left.

Nearly 10 months had passed.

My relationship had ended not long after I joined the first Bible study, and I was still struggling to get over it. The group gave me something badly needed at the time.

I remember telling a coworker the church of the bible study group was out in California. Most of the members lived in Orange County and I attended over Zoom.

She asked me a simple question.

“What’s the name of the church?”

We finally broke into the illusion was a family vacation.  

I hadn’t told my group leader about the trip early enough although I had mentioned it to some off the other women.

While I was in Yellowstone, where my phone service was terrible, I started receiving calls from the group. I was told I would have to make up the Bible study I had missed.

Something about that finally felt wrong.

I was upset, but more importantly I started researching.

I searched Reddit, Quora, and other discussions from people describing similar recruitment experiences. Many were over zoom due to covid. The patterns I found appeared to point toward Shincheonji.

I felt sick to my stomach.

I didn’t want it to be true. I had spent almost a year studying with these people. I like them. I trusted them.

But I could see the direction things appeared to be going.

I told them I needed to leave due to my mental health. They wished me well and I could return if I wanted. Some encouraged me to reconsider.

I didn’t.

I cut my losses and left.

Nothing overly vicious or frightening happened to me. That distinction matters. I was still relatively early in whatever process was unfolding, and I can’t say what my individual experience would ultimately have become.

But I had seen enough patterns to know I didn’t want to find out.

My other memorable experience happened when I was around 23.

An older had become interested in the content on my YouTube channel. He offered his thoughts and insights, and I occasionally gave him a platform on my livestreams, which might have had only a dozen viewers at the time.

People seemed to like him.

 Gradually, however, his idea became increasingly troubling.

Things came to a head when I published my first novel. He began connecting my writing to some larger purpose he believed I had. Then he started talking about me eventually being taken from my current life, leaving my family to come to his home country.

Around the time, a woman contacted me about him.

She claimed that she, a friend, her and another man had also been deceived by him. According to her, she had nearly traveled to his country but ultimately decided against it. She told me that her friend had gone and that he had talked about a company he owned, a farm, work and matchmaking. She also claimed that her fiend later went missing.

 I have no way of independly verifying what she told me, and I don’t present allegations as fact.

But hearing them was alarming enough.

I stopped giving him a platform and cut ties completely.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder how differently that situation could have developed if I hadn’t had close relationship with family and people around me.

Those experiences have made me particularly sensitive to high-control groups. Even some multi-level marketing makes me uncomfortable because I recognize pieces of the same social machinery. Increasing demands on your time, escalating commitment, the idea that outsiders simply don’t understand, and an environment where question the group’s beliefs can become evidence that you are the problem.

One of the things that disturbs me most is deceptive recruitment.

Someone you believe is another curious newcomer may already belong to the organization. Someone you think spontaneously befriended you may have approached you intentionally. A relationship that feels organic may actually be part of a recruitment strategy.

That realization changed the way I think about cults.

Before these expriences, studying cults from a sociological perspective made them seem almost clinical: charismatic leaders, social isolation, indoctrination, conformity, in-groups and out-groups.

Experiencing even the beginning stages of something like that felt completely different.

It began with attention.

Then friendship.

Then belonging.

Then structure.

Then more of my time.

That progression is exactly what makes these groups effective.

I’m not proud that I became involved in situations like these, but I am grateful for what I learned from getting out of them.

Knowledge didn’t make me immune to manipulation.

Experience made more cautious about whom I give my trust, my time and my access to.

Most importantly, it taught me to enforce stricter boundaries and protect my peace.