u/Recent-Addendum-7336

Some of you have been asking me, “If you’ve had doubts for years, why are you still there? Why not just leave? Why continue doing the work?”

Well let’s address that honestly.

The truth is, some of us can recognize issues, see contradictions, feel troubled in our spirit, and yet still remain deeply attached to the very environment we are questioning. Why? Because these environments become your entire world.

Some of you may not understand this unless you’ve lived it.

I’m fully aware how devastating it could be for the Toronto church if I ever completely took the mask off and revealed who I was publicly. Not because I think I’m somebody important in myself, but because of how much work I’ve done, how many people know me, how involved I’ve been, how much trust people place in me, and how passionately I’ve presented myself for years.

Some people would probably never look at me the same again. Some people would probably leave altogether. Some would feel lied to. Others would feel betrayed. And honestly, there are people I’d probably never see again after that day.

That’s the reality of environments like this.

Ecclesiastes 1:18 says, “For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.”

The more you start seeing things differently, the heavier everything becomes.

Now here’s the humbling part that’s difficult for me to admit.

I genuinely enjoy parts of being in the church.

I enjoy the relationships. I enjoy the fellowship. I enjoy the meetings of the body. A lot of the time they are actually fun. There’s purpose, structure, brotherhood, energy.

And if I’m being completely transparent, I also enjoy the attention and praise that comes with being perceived highly inside the church. I enjoy being looked at as faithful, strong, committed, fruitful. Preaching gives me an emotional high. Successfully baptizing someone gives me an even greater one. There’s a feeling attached to it that’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it yourself.

The bible says in Proverbs 27:21, “The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, but people are tested by their praise.”

Sometimes I wonder how much of me truly loved God, and how much of me loved being admired for appearing close to God.

That’s a hard thing to confront.

And this is why I say the situation becomes psychologically difficult.

Because on one hand, I sometimes think exposing everything and initiating a sort of “house of cards” effect for the Toronto chapter could actually help a lot of people who are silently struggling, fearful, confused, or trapped.

But on the other hand, I know exactly what it would cost me.

Your entire social world can disappear overnight.

People think leaving a high-control church is just about “discovering truth.” No. Sometimes it means grieving the loss of your friendships, your identity, your role, your structure, your reputation, and the only life you’ve known for years.

And yes, I’m extremely careful writing these posts.

A lot of these are written very late at night when I know almost everyone is asleep. Sometimes I’ll write everything down, save it privately, and then post it at completely different times or even different days just to cover my tracks. That’s how cautious this makes you become.

You start watching patterns. Timing. Wording. Behavior.

You become careful about everything.

Honestly, this is one of the very few places where I feel safe enough to actually express what’s really going on inside my mind. Most people around me only know the version of me that appears passionate, convicted, joyful, faithful, and spiritually confident.

Very few people know the internal conflict.

And ironically, part of why I even know where criticism of these churches exists online is because leadership themselves mention them constantly as warnings. Certain forums, certain Reddit pages, certain former members speaking out. Usually they’re framed as “bitter people,” “fallen away disciples,” or dangerous voices.

But eventually curiosity happens.

You start reading.

And sometimes you realize not everybody who left is evil, crazy, deceived, or spiritually dead like you were told.

So I’ll ask this genuinely:

Are there other places online where people discuss experiences with high-control churches, spiritual manipulation, or specifically the RCW / ICC / ICOC world?

I think I’m just trying to find people who understand this strange position of physically remaining inside while mentally questioning so much.

James 1:5 says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault.”

At this point, I think that’s what I’m trying to do.

I’ve debated writing this for a long time because I’m still involved, still in leadership, and honestly still trying to process everything myself.

I also want to be careful not to reveal too many personal details, including whether I’m male or female, when I joined RCW, or whether I was in university at the time, because leadership actively reads posts like these. People inside will probably know exactly who I’m referring to when I mention individuals like Evan Bartholomew.

One thing that deeply unsettled me over time was seeing how criticism of the church gets framed as “persecution.” I’ve personally seen leaders accuse both current members and former members of being anonymous “persecutors” simply for criticizing the organization or speaking publicly about harmful experiences. In many cases, these accusations were completely false and created an atmosphere of paranoia and suspicion within the church.

That’s part of why many people stay silent. Speaking honestly can quickly turn you into a target internally.

I was recruited the same way manyy others, you could also say I was actively seeking guidance. At first, it felt different in a good way. Everyone was intense, committed, “on fire for God,” constantly talking about purpose, evangelism, discipleship, and changing the world. Coming from a spiritually dissatisfied background, it felt refreshing. They made you feel chosen, like you finally found the “real” church.

Over time, I moved deeper into leadership. The more committed you became, the more praise and responsibility you received. But with that came pressure. Constant pressure.

You’re expected to constantly recruit, constantly report numbers, constantly push members to give more, study more, confess more, sacrifice more. Everything becomes tied to your spirituality. If attendance drops, you feel guilty. If someone leaves the church, you feel guilty. If contribution numbers are low, you feel guilty. If you’re exhausted or burnt out, you’re told to pray harder and deny yourself more.

What disturbed me most is how normalized control becomes internally.

We would talk about people’s doubts as “Satan attacking them.” Independent research was heavily discouraged unless it came from approved sources. Members questioning doctrine were often labeled prideful, rebellious, or spiritually weak. People who left weren’t treated as individuals with genuine concerns, but as cautionary tales. The atmosphere creates fear around thinking for yourself.

As a leader, I also started noticing how emotional vulnerability gets used. People struggling mentally, spiritually, socially, or coming from abusive relationships are often the most vulnerable to becoming deeply attached because the church immediately surrounds them with attention, purpose, structure, and community. For some members I personally baptized, this church genuinely became the only stable or hopeful thing in their lives.

That’s part of what makes this so difficult for me emotionally.

I feel immense guilt because I now believe I helped bring people into something that preaches false doctrine and emotionally exploits people while claiming it’s for God. There were even moments where I secretly messaged newer members anonymously because of how guilty I felt helping bring them into the church. That realization has been eating at me internally for a long time.

The financial pressure also became impossible to ignore. “Special missions” are framed as sacrifice for God, but behind closed doors there is enormous pressure on members to hit contribution goals. Students and struggling members are encouraged to “give in faith” even when they’re already financially strained. Leaders absolutely keep track of who gives and who doesn’t.

I also became increasingly disturbed by how leadership handled accusations and discipline internally. For those unfamiliar with the terminology, “disfellowshipping” or “marking” someone essentially means labeling them as spiritually dangerous to the church and warning members against them.

Evan Bartholomew is effectively the central leader here, and I’ve personally witnessed situations where people were disfellowshipped or marked based largely on assumptions, suspicions, “gut feelings,” or social pressure rather than clear evidence. In one situation that deeply disturbed me, someone was pressured into handing over their phone to Evan in order to “prove” their innocence after suspicions started circulating internally. Even after all of that, Evan later admitted he realized he was wrong and shifted the blame elsewhere afterward. Seeing situations like that deeply shook my trust in the leadership structure.

What makes this even harder is that I don’t believe everything is black and white. That’s part of why it took me so long to mentally accept that something might be deeply wrong here. Evan has also taught lessons emphasizing trusting the Bible and putting faith in scripture over man, and ironically, I actually agree with that principle. We SHOULD trust scripture. In fact, one study document titled "Can We Trust The Bible" I remember specifically emphasized that the Bible was not merely “cleverly devised stories” but inspired by God, and encouraged people to have faith in scripture and study it deeply.

And honestly, I still agree with many of those ideas in principle. The problem is the contradiction I slowly began noticing between preaching “trust the Bible” while simultaneously discouraging independent thought whenever people reach conclusions leadership doesn’t approve of.

The hardest part is that many people inside genuinely believe they’re doing God’s work. That’s what makes it complicated. Not everyone is malicious. Some are sincere people who’ve been conditioned to think this level of control is righteousness.

I honestly don’t know what to do anymore. I still lead bible studies. I still mentor people. I still participate in everything because it has become so deeply integrated into my daily life and identity that I don’t even know what life outside of this structure looks like anymore. I think I’ve been living in denial for far too long.

Part of me feels like publicly leaving could potentially cause a chain reaction and make many people question things or even leave themselves. Another part of me thinks about simply disappearing quietly without telling anyone because I know how emotionally devastating it would be for some people if I openly left. I’ve built genuine bonds with many brothers and sisters here, and despite everything, I do care about them deeply.

That’s what makes high-control groups so complicated. The relationships feel real because many of them ARE real. The love and friendships can be real while the system itself is unhealthy.

But eventually you start realizing something is wrong when fear becomes the primary motivator instead of love. You stop feeling spiritually alive and start feeling psychologically trapped.

I’m writing this anonymously because I know exactly how leadership talks about people who speak out. Honestly, it even took me hours to write this because I’m trying very carefully not to write the way I normally do. I’ve written essays and material before for the church’s ministry school, so even little writing habits or phrasing patterns could potentially give me away to people internally.

And if I’m being completely honest, for now I may still remain inside and continue doing what I’ve been doing. That alone probably says how deep I am into this whole thing psychologically and socially. This church has become intertwined with my entire daily life, my relationships, my routines, and my identity.

Part of why I’m even writing this is in the hope that maybe a former member ( you know who you are) sees it and reaches out on here somehow. I feel like I need to speak with someone who has already gone through this before I make any drastic decisions. Right now I’m trying to slowly process everything, gain trust, and mentally figure out what an exit plan would even look like without completely blowing up my life overnight.

But if you’re studying with them right now and something feels off in your spirit, trust that feeling. Healthy faith does not fear questions, outside information, boundaries, or critical thinking. I’ll likely continue updating as I slowly figure things out myself. God Bless you all.