How did it happen? Well, it started with one question, leading to another, and so on.

There I was on top of a snow-covered mountain playing with snow mindlessly. Cupping shaved ice playfully, while my hands sore from the numbing cold. The effort produced a fistful of snowball, which I hesitantly kicked into a roll. It slowly turned. When it slid on the slope, it started turning faster. One small thing led to another. Tumbling from the summit, each full turn added a thin coat of ice to the already inflating balloon. The rolling mass, now gaining momentum, swallowed all mounds of snow along its path. 

You could see it from afar, spinning wildly. An unstoppable force so big and powerful. At the bottom of the mountain was a barn sitting peacefully, oblivious to the mountain of ice headed toward its direction.  A thunderous clap cut the silence in the air as it crashed into the barn, leaving a wreckage of splintered woods and shredded sheets of metal along its wake.

After I left, there was an emptiness. I won't lie. I tried fitting whatever was within my grasp into the hole left by my leaving. A desire to return to normalcy grew. An aching longing for a rhythm, for a pattern of spiritual communion and community burdened my heart. There was regret, followed by periods of melancholy.

In life I've learned that it is easier to leave something you grew to hate. An abusive partner. A demanding employer. A corrupted country beyond saving. A toxic family. At first, it was difficult to sow seeds of hatred on a system that has helped many people including myself.  But when I look back on my experience, I realize that it took more from me than what I was capable and willing to give. Compounded with sobering evidences exposed by the pandemic, there was no need to look for more reasons.

One time as I was scrolling old photos on my phone, I found a screenshot of one familiar FB subpost. This was aimed at an ex-churchmate who had left our church. The subpost said that people who leave churches shouldn't blame other members for their decision. I realized that the screenshot being there meant it resonated with me back then. But now, I understand how one-sided it was. As much as it was solely my decision, there were other external factors that cemented my resolve.

And as difficult as it was not to resent the people behind the system, someone has to be responsible.

When people have been spiritually abused and emotionally manipulated...

When people who dare to question problematic teachings presented as truths are ostracized...

When questioning these Authorities means questioning God...

When Biblical teachings are twisted by these holier-than-thou leaders to fit into their personal schemes...

When members from marginalized communities such as the LGBTQIA+ are mocked openly and used as an example for comedic purposes to drive a point, to scare members in hiding, and to demonize the community they should be more compassionate with...

How can you not do anything?

I was told not to focus on the authorities, that I should fix my eyes on what's more important: the G12 vision.

But with such blatant exercise of power over people who have been mentally conditioned to follow blindly, how can someone look away? What is there left to believe in a system that perpetuates corruption and oppression of people who aren't critical enough to question their spiritual authorities?

Also, how can these spiritual authorities justify the trauma they've inflected on their members and still get away with it?

I left because I can't---for the life of me---associate myself with a system that has done more harm than good, and yet continues to champion their cause no matter how misguided their ways can get.

It's ironic to think that, for someone being on the fence for so long, finishing a course about how to interpret the Bible became crucial in helping me finally decide.

I don't think my leaving helped further my cause. Do I even have one to begin with? But what I do know is---it helped me. That's one less person saved from a system with cultic tendencies. And still there's so much to unlearn, so much to heal from. I still need to apologize to a number of people I've wounded. And there is myself I need to forgive. 

During my years under the G12 system, I've developed Messianic complex. Thinking highly of myself, I went out of my own way to help people. It made me feel good, even powerful, so I continued. I romanticized the sufferings I endured, and craved for more. I gave and gave until nothing was left, only myself. After everything that I've sacrificed, I owe myself that forgiveness.

I am not encouraging anyone who are on the fence to leave. I'm done telling people what to do. Maybe this is just an isolated case. Maybe I am just an anomaly. Like what I've been taught to believe in church: the world hates us because we're different. But aren't we all just the same? Aren't we all trying to make sense of everything? This is me trying to do just that. This is me encouraging myself to learn as I go.

For now, I am distancing myself from any organized religions. I have taken it upon me to regain everything that I've lost---my self-worth, my identity, my reason for being and living, my life. Maybe in the future I'll reconsider things. Maybe I won't.  But in the meantime, consider me a recovering (G12) Christian.