My first core memory was December 25, 1982.

The day was a very happy moment. I stared at the bright and colorful lights of a big, glorious Christmas tree in our living room. My father watched television. My older sister was worried about the family cat getting covered in sap and pine needles after climbing the tree. I was two years old.

The holiday formed my personality, influenced my perspective about the world, and affected my opinions of family members. Eventually, my parents researched the origins of Christmas. They concluded the holiday was created by pagan worshipers and co-opted by the secular world for financial greed. As a result, my family stopped celebrating the holiday.

Certainly, my parents believed in the absolute truth of the Bible. They both followed Jesus Christ who said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.”¹ At times, we attended meetings at the Pilgrim Lutheran Church and the Worldwide Church of God.

On the other hand, my maternal grandmother was a devout Baptist who believed in God’s wrath. She loved to read the parable of “Lazarus and the Rich Man.”² To her, the story explained how sinners need to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. She passed away in February 2007; my maternal grandfather had passed away in March 1976.

Likewise, my paternal grandmother was a Baptist. According to my father’s sisters, she showed love and compassion to other people. For most of her life, she served as a Certified Nursing Assistant. She passed away in December 1989; my paternal grandfather had passed away in November 1986.

As a result of my family’s inconsistent religious doctrines and teachings, I did not feel a sense of belonging. I felt emotionally disconnected from my family. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people.

In the Spring of 1993, the Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on our door with the “Good News of the Kingdom.” Their visit changed my family’s life forever. Without hesitation, my mother accepted their offer for a free in-home Bible study. She believed God answered her prayers. Quickly, she shared their beliefs with my father. The married couple studying with my parents offered to study the Bible with me and my two sisters. I learned about the Old Testament in chronological order using one of their own publications, My Book of Bible Stories. But everyone dismissed my critical thinking skills, and they avoided addressing the inconsistencies in the scriptures.

Suddenly, my parents believed the Jehovah’s Witnesses had the Truth. In their opinion, the desperate search for the One True Religion was over.

In contrast, I viewed the Bible from a secular and academic viewpoint. I did not want to replace my individual identity and self-worth with unorthodox religious ideas. In my opinion, it was improbable that one interpretation of one tradition from a Christian religion was the absolute truth.

In August 1993, my parents started to limit secular and worldly content in the household. For example, I was not allowed to watch movies with my childhood friends anymore. My mother explained that God did not want us to watch violent movies, especially R-rated horror films.

Soon, my parents wanted to attend meetings at the Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, the group’s place of worship. The members of the religion, commonly referred to as the Friends of the Congregation, started to “love bomb” my family. To explain, love bombing is defined as “attempts to influence a person by demonstrations of attention and affection.”

Instantly, I was socializing with children of the Friends. I believed I was gaining new friends. I thought that I would keep my old friends, too. Instead, I was exchanging my childhood friends for the Friends of the Congregation. My parents reminded me how “bad associations spoil useful habits.”³

In February 1994, my parents decided the entire family would become baptized members of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. With hesitation, I expressed my strong feelings of disagreement about joining the religion. My parents were dumbfounded and disappointed. They accused me of being rebellious for rejecting our “New Personality.”⁴ To elaborate, the Jehovah’s Witnesses believe they are the only group which will survive the Battle of Armageddon.

On April 9, 1994, I was baptized as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was the day after Kurt Cobain, lead singer and guitarist of Nirvana was found dead.

As a baptized member of the congregation, I was enrolled in the Theocratic Ministry School. It was a weekly meeting to help gather, develop, and deliver information more effectively in the door-to-door ministry work. Although I developed public speaking skills, I was not allowed to join any academic, athletic, secular, or social activities. The Jehovah’s Witnesses believed that “the world has hated them, because they are no part of the world.”⁵

In the Autumn of 1994, I was a freshman in high school. I attended the school’s volleyball games with my school friends. My romantic interest was focused on One Particular Girl…except she was not a member of the religion.

As a matter of fact, dating was taken very seriously within the religion. The act of courtship was considered an important step toward marriage. It was only a step for those who were old enough to marry someone in the group.

One day, I entered the gymnasium and looked across the room. I saw the One Particular Girl. She looked beautiful in her school jersey and shorts with blue ribbons holding her hair up into a ponytail. Although wearing ribbons was a simple hair fashion, I saw a strikingly beautiful young woman. I offered a confident smile. I wanted to say something funny. Instead, she waved at me with enthusiasm. Soon, we would have lunch in the cafeteria on a regular basis. We talked about Star Wars while exchanging stolen glances.

Eventually, the Elders discovered I was socializing with my worldly friends, including One Particular Girl. I was counseled about how sexual feelings and romantic emotions would become strong during the “bloom of youth.”⁶

I was warned by the Elders that association with worldly friends would lead to immoral thoughts and conduct. They believed that love “does not behave indecently,”⁷ and “the spirit, of course, is eager, but the flesh is weak.”⁸

Although I did not agree with the Elders, my parents wanted to avoid conflict with their authority. They decided to offer an educational environment which would be nurturing and safe without worldly temptation. I was removed from public school, without warning or explanation, and enrolled in home schooling. My regular association with secular and worldly friends, including One Particular Girl, ended. I was fourteen years old.

In the Summer of 1995, I was encouraged by one of the Elders to volunteer as a Regular Pioneer. To elaborate, a Pioneer is a full-time member in good standing with the congregation. They spend 90 hours each month in the door-to-door preaching work. According to the Friends, Pioneers are motivated by love for mankind, and they experience true happiness and blessings from God. In fact, the Friends believe that “men who minister in a fine manner are acquiring for themselves a fine standing.”⁹

Soon, the Encouraging Elder became a father figure. I found comfort in the fact that he saw potential in me that others had overlooked. He noticed my spark of kindness, my willingness to help, and my yearning for belonging.

In August 1997, I attended the Pioneer Service School. The elite school was a two-week seminar to help Regular Pioneers become more effective in the door-to-door ministry work. Eventually, I was rewarded with assignments in the congregation. I thought that I earned the love and respect of the Friends.

One day, the Encouraging Elder informed me that he was reassigned to help a different congregation. I felt the weight of the news pressing down.

“But why?” I asked. My voice was barely a whisper.

The Encouraging Elder placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. His eyes filled with empathy. “Sometimes, we have to go to where the need is greater.”

His words hung in the air. I felt a hollowness in my chest. The silence stretched on as my mind raced with the implications of his departure. Without the Encouraging Elder’s guidance and support, my spiritual goals felt burdensome and overwhelming.

Meanwhile, my parents drifted apart, and their marriage was in turmoil. They experienced too many years of irreconcilable differences, domestic violence, economic hardships, and unresolved mental health issues. As a result, my father was denied congregational responsibilities. On a regular basis, he stopped attending the meetings to protest until the Elders conducted home visits. They asked him to “come back to Jehovah.”

On May 9, 1998, I was invited to a wedding ceremony at the Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. The main feature was a public talk delivered by the Presiding Elder of the Congregation. He emphasized how the “head of a woman is the man,”¹⁰ and the wife should be submissive to her husband.

After the ceremony, a reception was held at a secular location. Although gifts and dancing were allowed, any toasts and throwing of rice or confetti or bubble-blowing were not permitted. The Jehovah’s Witnesses believe the traditional good-luck practices had origins in pagan superstition.

While the couple getting married had a successful courtship, the process of dating within the religion was a delicate undertaking. A single misstep would cause the downfall of a person’s reputation and dignity. Thus, a dating couple was strongly discouraged from being alone. They were expected to always have reputable supervision, even in public areas.

For years, I had imagined my future self with a loving, intelligent companion with wonderful, creative children. Now, I was worried I would have to be romantically and emotionally alone if I stayed in the religion. The young people in the local congregation were men, so finding a suitable female partner was a challenge. The young women in nearby congregations were either considered “spiritually weak” or already being courted.

During the Summer of 1998, I traveled to New York with a group of the Friends. We visited the Bethel Family at the worldwide headquarters of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Although the Elders wanted male members to apply for Bethel membership, I discovered it was not a wise career choice.

To explain, the Bethelites did not earn an hourly wage or salary. Instead, the volunteers received room and board along with a meager allowance for personal expenses. Everyone had a non-negotiable assignment like office tasks, kitchen duty, factory work, or housekeeping duties.

During my visit, the Bethel Family expressed how they lived and worked together. They enjoyed meals together and studied the Bible together in Christian unity. From my perspective, the Bethel Family had misplaced admiration for the organization. The Governing Body, the ruling council of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, controlled every aspect of their lives. They were told when to wake up, where to sit, what to eat, what to do, and what to wear. In other words, the Bethel Family was an institutional living arrangement.

Suddenly, I faced a crisis. I felt an emotional disconnection from the religion. While I tried to keep calm, my whole sense of reality was crumbling.

Still, I was forced to hide these doubts. Otherwise, I would be ostracized and shunned by the Friends. The Jehovah’s Witnesses believe removing someone from the group is a loving and necessary arrangement from God. The policy keeps the congregation safe from apostate teachings and immoral conduct.

On the way home from my trip, my mother was granted a Court Order of Protection against my father. The Elders told my mother to withdraw the restraining order. They counseled that my father needed to fulfill his duties as the Headship of the Family. But my mother stated the Elders did not care about the domestic abuse happening in our house. As a result, my mother and young sister became inactive members of the group.

Meanwhile, the local congregation received a visit from one of the Traveling Overseers. To explain, the Overseers give scriptural counsel and news from the Governing Body. They relate experiences about how the preaching work is succeeding in distant parts of the world. As a result, their visits generate enthusiastic activity, some artificial but each one frantic. Sometimes, the Friends adjusted their secular work schedule to volunteer as temporary Pioneers in the ministry work for the month.

Yet, the Overseer was like a district manager sent from the corporate home office to inspect a retail store location. Thus, I believed the organization had more in common with a capitalist business than a theocratic system. Most importantly, the Traveling Overseers enforce the Governing Body’s culture and mandates throughout the organization. They decided who would have congregational assignments and promotions.

On October 20, 1998, I was appointed as a Ministerial Servant of the Congregation, along with two other male members. My duties included managing the Territory Department and assisting the Sound Department.

In July 1999, I decided to resign as a Regular Pioneer.

One day, I found the courage to finally speak the words. I leaned against the library bookcases in the Kingdom Hall. My friend was used to my random outbursts. But he had learned to tune out most of these musings. Still, these particular thoughts had been tormenting my soul for weeks.

“I need to take a break from being a full-time Pioneer,” I said.

My friend’s eyes snapped, his casual demeanor vanished.

“What? Why?” he asked, his voice filled with shock and concern.

“It’s just that…” I paused. I searched for the right words. “I’ve got some stuff going on, and I think I need to focus on it.”

The library of the Kingdom Hall, usually a place of comfort and warmth, suddenly felt tense. My friend placed his magazine down, his gaze steady.

“What stuff?” he pressed gently.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Just…financial stuff. I can’t afford to stay active. It’s been weighing on me, and I think it’s time I deal with it.”

The silence grew heavy. There was the understanding that our dedication to the religion was more than just a weekly commitment. It was the cornerstone of our identities, a place where we found solace and purpose. But I knew that my decision to resign as a full-time Pioneer was not made lightly.

“But the preaching work,” he said. “We have to put kingdom interests first. Jehovah will provide for you.”

“I know,” I said. My voice was tight with the weight of this decision. “But I can’t keep juggling everything. Something’s gotta give.”

He nodded, his expression a blend of sadness and disapproval. I thought the Friends had seen the toll my family life had been taking on my mental health. The dark circles under my eyes. The way my smile had lost its spark.

“Okay,” he said. His voice was barely above a whisper. “But promise me you’ll find a way to keep serving Jehovah.”

I offered a weak smile. But I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. I had to face my doubts about the religion. But the full-time ministry work was not the right place to find answers. I felt guilty for burdening anyone with these troubles. Still, I was grateful for his friendship.

Quickly, the Elders made an announcement about my resignation to the congregation. I was hopeful that the Friends would understand. But their responses were a mix of shock and disappointment.

Soon, I was adrift. My social life was a void as the lines of communication with the Friends closed. Clearly, I was marked as “bad association” for being “spiritually weak.” The silence was deafening. The warm smiles and casual conversations were replaced with cold shoulders and soft shunning.

On September 7, 1999, I experienced a mental and emotional breakdown. The rejection was too painful. I was longing for unconditional love and acceptance. I thought about how my life would have turned out if I refused to join the religion … stayed in public school … kept my childhood friends … pursued a romantic relationship with One Particular Girl.

In the moment, there were two options available to resolve the “fight-or-flight” response. I would have to confront the Elders or slowly fade away.

For several weeks, I looked for the truth about the Jehovah’s Witnesses. First, I researched the origins of Charles Taze Russell and the Watchtower Society. Second, I researched the religion’s own publications along with reliable third-party sources about high-demand, high-control authoritarian groups.

In the end, I uncovered lies, deceit, and hypocrisy. The manipulation and indoctrination were the feature, not the flaw of the religion. For example, the Rule of Two Witnesses for reporting child abuse and sexual assault was a serious concern. The Rule states “no single witness may convict another for any error or any sin that he may commit. On the testimony of two witnesses or on the testimony of three witnesses the matter should be established.”¹¹

Alas, my self-imposed exile was fleeting. My absence from the meetings was noticed by the Elders. Likewise, I couldn’t explain my lack of enthusiasm for the religion to my father. The choice to slowly fade away was not possible. Without other options, I shared the doubts I was having about the group.

In October 1999, I agreed to meet with the Elders to “get to the heart of the matter.” The Presiding Elder started the discussion by questioning my loyalty to the Governing Body. Clearly, I was being investigated for acts of sedition and apostasy. The Elders were fulfilling the Rule of Two Witnesses before starting an official judicial committee. I wanted to walk away from the inquisition, but I decided to challenge their authority and speak without fear.

“I want you to imagine for a moment that we were Mormons, Baptists, or Catholics. This meeting would be the same. You would say you are right about God and the Bible while everybody else is wrong. You would still be convinced you had the Truth, because this is all you know.”

The Presiding Elder expressed outrage about the comparison to Catholics. He tried to steer the conversation back to my loyalty to the organization.

“You’re right,” I acknowledged. “It’s an unfair comparison. We are worse than Catholics…we excuse domestic violence…we ignore sexual abuse and offer sanctuary to those abusers…we manipulate and control emotionally weak people to join the group. All of this is done in the name of God…who watches and controls everything…a powerful deity who has a master plan which involves the act of global genocide…the murder of billions of people at Armageddon…unless they pray and beg for mercy and forgiveness…unless they worship, every day, the god who loves them…but will also destroy them, if he believes it is righteous…and the path of salvation involves listening…without question…to a governing body of imperfect men who keeps changing the doctrines and rules of the group.”

The Other Elder offered an invitation to “come back to Jehovah” and attend the weekly meetings. But I couldn’t share my doubts with the Friends.

“Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater,” the Presiding Elder begged.

“There’s no baby in the bathtub,” I responded.

The Other Elder made a dramatic plea about avoiding apostate material. He emphasized to abstain from “worldly behavior” like drugs and premarital sex.

I shook my head. “This is nothing but a doomsday cult!”

The Presiding Elder sighed. He asked a final question: “What else are you going to do on a Tuesday night?”

“I am sure I will find something,” I replied.

The Elders ended our discussion without a prayer. Obviously, the Judicial Committee was going to charge me with sedition and apostasy.

For the last time, I walked out of the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was only a matter of time before I would be disfellowshipped.

In the meantime, I faced the emotional challenges of preparing to leave the group. I needed a safe environment to reclaim my self-worth and identity.

One, I discovered a support group and talked to former members about the traumatic experience. We shared stories, knowledge, and coping skills.

Two, I reconnected with one of my old childhood friends.

Three, I read Crisis of Conscience by Raymond Franz, a former high-ranking member of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. The biographical book was a controversial account which detailed the internal workings of the religion in the 1960s and 1970s. Franz displayed a tone of sadness as he detailed how he was judicially investigated for spreading “wrong teachings.” He resigned from the Governing Body in 1980. Later, Franz was ostracized and disfellowshipped by the religion for associating with former members.

In time, I had an epiphany.

I acknowledged what type of person I was pretending to be.

I was not one of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

I knew who I was.

I was an apathist.

Specifically, the doctrines and teachings of organized religion was irrelevant, meaningless, and uninteresting. I would rather have questions which couldn’t be answered than to have answers which couldn’t be questioned. Moreover, I was not interested in accepting or rejecting any claims about God’s existence. I thought religious groups were corruptible and fraudulent, and “I simply did not believe in the Bible…and by extension any Christian beliefs.”¹²

On the other hand, the Jehovah’s Witnesses do not have “permanent allies, only permanent interests.”¹³ The group follows the Governing Body with total obedience to earn salvation. They believe everything in the world is evil.

For six years, I was indoctrinated with a distrust of the world. Although the Friends feared leaving the organization, I would not be silenced. So, I decided to give up everything to escape from the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

On November 24, 1999, I wrote a Letter of Disassociation. I sent copies of the document to the Body of Elders and a few of the Friends.

On December 7, 1999, an official congregational announcement was made that I was “not one of Jehovah’s Witnesses.” The details and reasons for my disassociation were not publicly mentioned or made available. The brief statement carried an implied directive for the members to avoid me. In fact, the Friends couldn’t offer a polite greeting if they saw me.

From the viewpoint of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, I was a traitor, a heretic, and an apostate. There was never a legitimate reason to leave the religion.

In fact, a few of the Friends told my father that they refused to read the Letter of Disassociation. But they hoped I would “come back to Jehovah.”

Meanwhile, I was watching a theatrical screening of Star Wars – Episode I: The Phantom Menace with my childhood friend.

It was a Tuesday night.

The story concludes….

WORKS CITED

1. John, chapter 14, verse 6, New King James Version ↩︎
2. Luke, chapter 16, New King James Version ↩︎
3. 1 Corinthians, chapter 15, verse 33, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
4. Colossians, chapter 3, verse 10, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
5. John, chapter 17, verse 14, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
6. 1 Corinthians, chapter 7, verse 36, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
7. 1 Corinthians, chapter 13, verses 4-5, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
8. Matthew, chapter 26, verse 41, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
9. 1 Timothy, chapter 3, verses 13, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
10. 1 Corinthians, chapter 11, verse 3, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
11. Deuteronomy, chapter 19, verse 15, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures ↩︎
12. A Moment That Changed Me: Quitting the Jehovah’s Witnesses, 2016 ↩︎
13. Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston (October 20, 1784 – October 18, 1865), known as Lord Palmerston, was a British politician who was the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom twice in the mid-19th century.  ↩︎