The hook that drew me into University Bible Fellowship (UBF) wasn't some grand spiritual promise. It was something I had almost never encountered: simple human acceptance.

The Background: A Target from the Start

My family moved to Columbus, Ohio, when I was in first grade, and the bullying started almost immediately. In the apartment where we lived until I was in third grade, a kid named Michael picked on all three of us — me, my younger brother, and my sister — even in front of my visiting relatives.

In 1974, we moved to Grandview, near Ohio State’s campus. This is the house where all four of us grew up (my youngest brother was a baby then), where Mom passed away on Easter Sunday 2025, and where Dad still lives today.

The bullying escalated in fourth grade because of the color of my teeth. I was one of the first babies given the antibiotic Tetracycline, which discolored my teeth from the inside out before they even grew. "Greenteeth" became a label that followed me for years.

Escalation and the Prison of School

I made mistakes, too. In fifth grade, I used my position as a hall monitor to bully a younger kid named John. He eventually turned the tables and spent years harassing me with a group of friends I was terrified of.

By middle school, I was climbing industrial buildings near home just to be alone. One night, some kids from school saw me and dared me to jump. I cussed them out and ran back and forth on the roof until a neighbor brought Dad to get me. The next week, my parents arbitrarily sent me to counseling at OSU's Upham Hall, never asking what had happened that night.

In high school, I was an easy target. I wore a yellow Chevy hat for a year, a denim cowboy hat on field trips, and a Darth Vader shirt for three months straight. I had a mouth that could make a sailor blush, often cussing out people until they got mad and started hitting me. I had a big mouth that I couldn’t back up.

The Breaking Point: Junior Year

The breaking point came in geometry class. The football quarterback, Ted, and his friends constantly harassed me, even egged on by a student teacher who found it amusing. One day, I stood up to hit Ted, but the student teacher threatened to send me to the office. I tried to storm out and slammed my left hand through a glass pane in the door. I nearly severed the main tendon in my wrist and had to wear a splint for weeks — which they also mocked me for. The cut was so severe that I nearly lost the use of my hand; I’m lefthanded.

By senior year, I was escaping through pot and beer, showing up sober to school for maybe 20 days the entire year. I told a teacher I felt like I was locked in a prison with no way out.

Fished Into Freedom?

Three weeks after high school graduation in June 1982, I was on my bike on Ohio State’s South Oval when two guys, Teddy and Richard, stopped me. I was resentful at first, but Teddy offered me a free meal to talk about Bible study.

I started going to "the Center" on E 13th Ave — the home of the chapter leader, Peter. I was not a pleasant person:

• I smoked on their porch and dropped my cigarette butts in the flowerbeds.
• I ate Peter's family's food out of the fridge, once polishing off a half-gallon of his favorite ice cream.
• I was tactless, calling everyone by nicknames and asking Peter if he was "in charge".

Yet, no one corrected me. No one complained. I was always welcomed.

The Final Move

That summer, my behavior at home pushed my Mom to her limit. She told me to get out. When I told Teddy, I expected sympathy, but he said: "Move in with me". He shared a house with other UBF men, and they found a spot for me.

For my 19th birthday in August, the chapter threw me a surprise party. No one besides my family had ever celebrated my birthday before. When a dozen people started singing "Happy Birthday," I ran outside and cried, telling the guy who followed me out, "I don’t deserve this!".

At the time, I thought it was genuine acceptance. Now I know it was textbook love bombing. This hook of acceptance was so powerful that it caused me to ignore every warning sign for the next four years.

I spent a decade inside a high-control organization called University Bible Fellowship (UBF). For ten years, I lived what I now call a parallel life — maintaining my academic integrity and professional continuity on the outside, while my internal autonomy was slowly being dismantled on the inside.

When I joined in 1982, I was a recent high school graduate looking for a spiritual sanctuary and any kind of acceptance. I didn't realize that the "spiritual hospital" I was entering was actually a laboratory for domestic management. Looking back at my UBF history, it’s easy to see the exit point, but it’s only recently that I've been able to recognize the moments when my intuition tried to scream.

We often talk about the big break — the moment when we finally realize how bad our situation really is — but the real story is in the small glitches. These were the moments when my inner compass pointed toward the truth, but I was taught to ignore the needle.

Summer 1982: The First Glitch 

My first inkling that something was off happened early. I met a member's mother who flatly denied being "Grace's mother." She insisted her daughter’s name was Susan. In UBF, Grace was a nickname used to signal her new life after beginning Bible study. At the time, I wrote it off as a family issue, not a systemic red flag.

September 1982: The Power Play 

My first real warning sign was at a conference in Ontario. I was 19, being a typical teenager — joking, exploring, talking with girls, even trying to climb a tree. Teddy (my Bible teacher) hauled me in to see the chapter leader, Peter.

When I sat down and put my feet on a coffee table, Peter erupted. He ranted about my disrespectful behavior and threatened to send me home. Why didn't I leave UBF then and there? Honestly, his yelling felt like that of every other adult authority figure I’d known — parents, teachers, lifeguards. It felt like more of the same, so I promised to behave.

The Mechanics of Coercion 

As my 20s progressed, the red flags became more frequent:

• The Scripted "No": In 1983, Teddy forced me to harass a classmate who had already refused Bible study. It reached the point where he told his friend, “He’s asking to come to Bible study, but I think he’s trying to get me to join a cult”.
• The Erasure of Trauma: An art student once shared his self-portrait full of rage and self-loathing. The group’s response? Total silence. As long as he was studying the Bible, his internal torment didn't exist.
• The Deprogramming: Between 1983 and 1984, a member was kidnapped and deprogrammed by his father. Peter calmed us by labeling the father as evil and we went back to normal almost immediately.
• The Laughing Testimony: At a late-80s conference, a young man sharing his life testimony told a story about a group of UBF women cornering him on campus and refusing to let him leave until he promised to attend a meeting. He sounded nostalgic and the audience laughed like it was a joke. I was appalled because I saw it for what it was: coercion.

June 1992: My Sidewalk Exit 

The buffers around my inner compass finally shattered on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I had lost my TA position at Ohio State and decided I wanted to transfer to Ohio University to finish my Master's degree.

I told Peter my plan outside on the sidewalk. I can still see his face and hear his reply:

“I don’t think I am ready for you to do that yet.”

In that single sentence, every rationalization I’d built over ten years crumbled. He didn't want me to grow; he wanted a puppet. I didn't say a word. I turned around, walked away, and never looked back.

1982: I Was Fished

In the summer of 1982, shortly after my high school graduation, I was profoundly miserable and alone. I had grown up friendless and alone, navigating a home life that felt like a constant weight. Also, I had lost my only friends - from my church youth group - because it was a group for high school students and I had graduated. When I was fished on Ohio State’s campus by Teddy and Richard, I was the perfect target: a young man chewed up by the world, looking for a place to belong and anyone to accept him.

They were from a cult called University Bible Fellowship (UBF). It was started in Korea in 1961 and moved to Chicago in 1977; since then, it has metastasized all over the world. The chapter leader, Peter, lived in the house called the center, where the group’s activities like Sunday services and group Bible study were headquartered.

Teddy invited me to dinner so we could talk about Jesus and Bible study, so he took me out for a steak dinner. He gave me a Bible and we started 1:1 Bible study a week or so later. 

From the beginning of my time there, UBF  portrayed themselves as a spiritual sanctuary - a place where the walking wounded could find rest and healing. I dove in headfirst, a move I now call The Cannonball, moving into a group house and starting a decade of total immersion.

1984: The 115-Page Forced Self-Autopsy

In February 1984, Peter and Teddy — on orders from UBF headquarters in Chicago — decided it was time for me to share my life story. I was selected to present my life testimony at a regional conference. My "helper" was a leader named James, and what began as a study in redemption quickly became a brutal, forced reliving of every trauma I had ever endured.

I was made to write every detail: the bullying, the misery at home, growing up friendless, and the victimization I suffered at the hands of two pedophiles while it was all still fresh in my mind. James was relentless, demanding more details until I finally broke down and shouted, "I looked at myself in the mirror and screamed, 'I hate you!' Is that what you’re looking for?!".

That raw emotional wreckage — all 115 pages of it — was boiled down to an antiseptic 12-page summary that painted a pretty picture of how 1:1 Bible study had given me my salvation. It also praised Peter and Teddy as the kind shepherds who led me to the green pastures of being a good little UBFer. 

I performed my testimony for 400 people under the title "From Odds to Providence". It wasn’t my own title; James hadn't even bothered to give me a title. Samuel C. Lee, the head of all UBF, hurriedly told it to me just before I went on stage. I still don’t know what the title means. Both Peter and Teddy were pleased with my performance; my life testimony was one of the best of the 7 or 8 that evening. However, when we returned to Columbus, it was like I was a show dog patted on the head before being put back in the kennel.

By “helping” me write that life testimony, James gave me the tools and wood to build my own electric chair. When I went on stage that evening, I demonstrated how well built that electric chair was.

Medics Who Probe and Catalogue the Wounds

The group prided itself on being a spiritual hospital, but their actual "medical" technique was to strip wounds bare, probe their depth, and then file them away as ammunition. They told me that if the pain of the memories from writing my life testimony remained, I lacked faith — that as a "new creation," I should just flip a switch and turn off my past. I spent years thinking I was a failure because I couldn't find that switch.

The 2005 Epiphany: The Marks of Jesus

The realization of how severely I had been violated didn't hit me until 2005, thirteen years after I left UBF for good. While visiting Trinity, my wife’s family's church, I heard Rev Janet preach a sermon about the "marks of Jesus".

She spoke about how our spiritual wounds leave scars and how people who know about those scars are often tempted to make use of them. That was the click. I realized the group had used my history to build and maintain unilateral, "make it their business to know all your business" control over me.

Rev. Janet explained that because of Jesus’ marks, God no longer sees our transgressions; He sees the pardon. If God Himself chooses to cover a believer’s past, nobody has the right to demand we strip it bare for their management.

When I realized that I was free from the burden of judging myself by the history the group had weaponized against me, the dam burst. I finally experienced the mercy and comfort I had been seeking since 1982.

My Golden Thread: How the Cult’s Own Tool Set Me Free

The Excavation 

In her Writing to Reckon journal, Gerette Buglion asks a couple of questions that struck me as counter-intuitive: “Can you identify a ‘golden thread’ in the entity you’ve left behind? Despite going through hell, what are you still grateful for?” Figuring out the good aspects of our cultic experiences can help us understand that not everything about those times in our lives was a complete loss.

For the ten years I spent in and out of University Bible Fellowship (UBF), the golden thread was the fact that they put a Bible in my hands. It is a profound irony that the book they intended to use to control my life became the very tool that exposed them and provided the blueprint for my escape.

The First Spark of Self-Esteem (June 1982)

I began 1-1 Bible study with Teddy in the summer of 1982. During a study of Genesis 1:31, I read that God saw everything He made and called it "very good." I felt a voice say, “And that included you.” For a kid who grew up bullied and feeling like an accident, this was the first positive thought I ever had about myself. It was a baseline of identity they couldn't later erase.

The "Factual Study" and Jeremiah 15:16 

Another UBF practice was the “factual study,” which was essentially reading the Bible cover-to-cover while taking extensive notes — likely a way to keep members quiet and out of the way. During one of these studies, Jeremiah 15:16 leaped out at me: “When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart’s delight…” This verse became a personal anchor, independent of the antiseptic lessons they were trying to drill into me.

The Blinding Irony of Jeremiah 6:14-15

A couple of years later, I listened as the chapter leader, Peter, used Jeremiah 6:14-15 to vehemently criticize other churches for “dressing the wounds of my people as though it were not serious”. I realized at that moment that UBF was guilty of the exact same thing. They ignored their members’ past trauma, insisting it didn't matter once they started Bible study.

This culminated in 1984, when I was forced to write my life testimony. I wrote over 115 single-spaced pages and poured every detail of my past life into it. When I mentioned that writing it made me sad, I was told that I had no faith because my past was gone since I had started studying the Bible with them. Their sanitized 12-page version of my life sang their praises while erasing the hell I had lived through before joining the group.

My Wilderness Years and Finding Safety (1985–1987) 

After my Bible teacher kicked me out of UBF in November 1985 because I accused him of trying to brainwash me, I spent my Wilderness Years trying to flee from God. But Psalm 139 haunted me with the idea that I couldn't flee His presence. 

In 1986, I heard a sermon on the Prodigal Son (from Luke 15). The pastor’s words — “The father’s welcome proved that it was safe to go home” — showed me that God’s love was a safe harbor, a stark contrast to the spiritual coercion I had experienced.

The Sidewalk Exit (June 1992) 

I returned to UBF in the spring of 1987 because I knew I needed a relationship with God and remembered how clearly he had spoken to me through reading the Bible with them. I finally walked away after my Sidewalk Exit in June 1992. Peter, the chapter leader, made a comment to me that opened my eyes and convinced me that I was at last done with them. 

For years afterward, I only saw the harm they did to me, but through this memoir project - I Was a Teenage Cult Member - I can finally see their  Golden Thread. It makes me think of Genesis 50:20: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good...”. They intended to use the Bible to control me, but it gave me the strength to break free from them and live my own life.

In her Writing to Reckon Journal, Gerette Buglion asks: “Were you a ‘soft target’ for indoctrination? How did the ‘Current’ catch you?”

I didn't fall into a cult because I was looking for one. I fell in because I was a high-achieving, sensitive 18-year-old who had just graduated from high school in June 1982. Looking back with a "Scout’s" eyes, I can see that I was the perfect soft target — not just because of my intellectual framework, but because of a profound emotional deficit.

The Kindness Hook

The truth is, I was miserable. I had grown up bullied, feeling like an accident, and carrying a deep sense of isolation. When I walked into that environment, I wasn't met with ideology first; I was met with human kindness. For someone who hadn't experienced much of it, that warmth was a powerful drug. It smoothed over the rough edges of the demands they were making. It made the "Current" feel like a warm bath instead of a dangerous tide.

The Cannonball (June 1982)

My entry wasn't gradual. It was a "Cannonball." Three weeks after graduation, I moved directly into Teddy’s house. There was no transition period. I went from the autonomy of a suburban high schooler to a world where my legal address was the group's "Center." The kindness I received there felt like the solution to the misery I had left behind.

The Science Fiction Framework

Cutting my teeth on Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke, Anne McCaffrey, Andre Norton, and Isaace Asimov, I was already primed for the idea of a "Grand Mission." When the group presented their "World Mission" ideology, it snapped perfectly into the stories I had spent my adolescence reading. They provided a container for my idealism, and the community provided the "family" I felt I was missing. They didn't have to break my mind; they just had to offer me a place where I felt I belonged.

The Professional Continuity Paradox

I maintained my academic integrity throughout, earning my Secondary English Education degree at Ohio State while living in group apartments and houses while working full-time in Ohio State's Financial Aid Office. On the surface, I was a successful student and employee; I was asked to train new employees in my office. Underneath, I was learning to use my professional skills — my writing and administrative abilities — to serve the very entity that was leveraging my past misery to ensure my present loyalty.

The Setup

Indoctrination often starts as a response to a legitimate human need. By the time the kindness turned into coercion, I was already miles from the shore. Mapping these mechanics is about showing how a "good kid" can be caught — not by a lack of intelligence, but by a simple desire to no longer be miserable.

Background 

University Bible Fellowship (UBF) is the cult I was in from June 1982 to June 1992. It was started in Korea in 1961 and moved to Chicago in 1977; since then, it has metastasized all over the world. I joined the Ohio State chapter right after I graduated from high school in June 1982. The chapter leader, Peter, lived in the house called the center, where the group’s activities like Sunday services and group Bible study were headquartered.

The First Exit: Cast Out (November 1985)

The first time I left UBF, I was kicked out. 

In the fall of 1985, after I was fired from a deli job, my Bible teacher, Tom, ordered me to write the sentence “God can do whatever he wants with my life” repeatedly until I could accept it.

After writing it fifteen times, I realized the exercise was stupid and left the center on my bike. Tom didn’t even bother to find me himself. Instead, ninety minutes later, Brent and Todd — other Bible students, not leaders — were sent to my parents’ house to ask why I had left. I told them it was because I thought Tom was trying to brainwash me. Only after they reported back my accusation did Tom call me on the phone to deliver his verdict: “Then I cast you out”. He didn’t even have the courtesy to ask me himself or to come see me. He kicked me out of UBF in a phone call. This initiated my Wilderness Years (November 1985 to Spring 1987).

The Second Exit: The Sidewalk Exit (June 1992)

The second time I left, I walked away. In June 1992, as a grad student, I told Peter I wanted to transfer to Ohio University so I could finish my Master’s degree in a better program.

Peter’s response floored me: “I don’t think I am ready for you to do that yet”.

At that moment, the scales fell from my eyes. I realized the staggering level of control UBF had exerted — dictating my facial hair, my academic major, and even my legal address - over my life for the past decade. I walked away that afternoon and never looked back. 

When another chapter leader later left me a note saying, "Please come back to God," I crumpled it up. I hadn’t left God; I had left UBF.

Life After: Reclaiming the Ordinary

Since that sunny June 1992 afternoon, I’ve spent the last 34 years building the life I missed out on:

• Relational Autonomy: My wife and I will celebrate our 34th anniversary in November.
• Professional Continuity: I’ve had a series of good jobs; I’m currently an Office Manager.
• Spiritual Re-calibration: I have worshiped at a series of churches. I’ve been accepted as a contributing member at each church and each one has been a place for me to grow in my life with God.

I got out — twice — and my life couldn’t be any better.

I was fished into University Bible Fellowship (UBF) in June 1982, just three weeks after I graduated high school. I call it "The Cannonball" because there was no gradual entry; it was total immersion from day one.

For the first couple of years, I was in a honeymoon phase. I was young, I was "all in," and I believed the narrative they gave me. It’s important to understand why I stayed long enough for the cracks to eventually matter.

The Honeymoon Phase (1982–1984): The Good Parts

The honeymoon phase worked because it provided things I had never experienced. In the summer of 1982, during a study of Genesis, I read that God saw everything He made and called it "very good." I felt a voice say, “And that included you.” For a kid who grew up bullied and feeling like an accident, this was the first positive thought I ever had about myself. It provided a baseline of identity that felt like a sanctuary.

Furthermore, the group became my guardians. When a former "friend" falsely accused me of a crime and tried to harass me, Teddy and the biggest guys from our chapter confronted him and told him to back off. For the first time in my life, I felt protected. In August 1982, they threw me a surprise birthday party; I was moved to tears because no one outside my family had ever celebrated me like that.

The Growing Wrinkles (1985)

The cracks deepened when the group’s "protection" turned into control. In late 1984, a member named John was kidnapped by his father and deprogrammed. Peter persuaded us his father was "evil." But later, I learned that Teddy and other leaders were stalking John—following him from home to work and staking out both places. While others listened to this like a detective show, I was appalled. This was the first incident I couldn't explain away.

In the spring of 1985, I was appointed as a small group leader, but I was a leader in name only. A new leader named Timothy began dominating our sessions with monologues. When I asked him to limit his talking for the sake of the group, he rebuked me for "pride," and my fellowship was disbanded shortly after.

May 1985: The End of the Honeymoon: The Name Rebuff

The moment the honeymoon officially ended was a specific encounter with Peter. Everyone in the group seemed to be getting biblical "spiritual names"—James, Abraham, Timothy. When I asked Peter about receiving mine, he looked at me and said that I was too young for a biblical name. That sharp rebuff was the first time the "special" feeling of the honeymoon was replaced by a cold realization of my place in the hierarchy. It was the first real crack.

The Visual Lie

I also began noticing UBF’s structural dishonesty. At a regional conference, I watched a staffer rearrange the audience into alternating rows so that a photographer could take a picture that made the auditorium look full. I had to ask myself: “If they’re willing to visually lie about how many people are here, what else is UBF lying about?”

The "Dumb Sheep" Moment (Spring 1990)

My intellectual exit happened two years before I actually left. While living in the Northwood house, a leader named Moses told me to do something burdensome. When I asked "Why?", his wife Pauline ripped into me: 

“You’re just a poor, dumb sheep who doesn’t know any better and he’s the wise and benevolent shepherd who knows the only good way for you to live!”

The Wrecking Ball (June 1992)

The final break - my Sidewalk Exit — came in June 1992. I told Peter I wanted to transfer to another university so I could finish my Master’s degree. He replied: “I don’t think I am ready for you to do that yet.” That simple sentence revealed the total control he held over my life. I walked away that afternoon and never looked back.

Untethered: Predator vs. Predator

Most people assume cult recruitment involves pulling someone away from a healthy, grounded life. My experience was the polar opposite. When I was fished into University Bible Fellowship (UBF) in June 1982, I was already untethered.

The State of Being Mostly Untethered

I grew up without a stable social foundation. Constant bullying from fourth grade through high school graduation left me with no friends outside of my church youth group. Even the classmate who told me he was my best friend — he told me this from our sophomore year until we graduated — turned out to be nothing more than a sociopath. At home, a turbulent relationship with my parents and siblings meant I had no real ties there either.

I had no plans for the future because my only goal had been to survive high school. When I graduated in June 1982, I lost the youth group — the only safe space I knew — because it was strictly for high school students. I was drifting in a vacuum when Teddy and Richard stopped me on the Ohio State campus.

The Only Tether

I had only one remaining connection to my previous life, and it was dangerous. Since sixth grade, I had been involved with an adult neighbor named Mike. What started as an escape — playing Atari and cleaning his apartment — had evolved into a predatory situation. Starting when I was in seventh grade, he was showing me pornography and attempting to coerce me into sexual acts.

The first hint of how bad Mike really was happened the afternoon I knocked on his door and a kid from school answered. He said that Mike was his uncle. When I tried asking him about it a couple of weeks later, he replied, “You and I both know that he’s not my uncle!” That was when I started thinking I had to stop seeing Mike but I was paralyzed and didn’t know how.

Just after graduation, I found a note from him in his apartment offering me $100 to do something "special" for him.

Predator vs. Predator

The following week, I told Teddy’s brother, Danny, about the note. His response was immediate: he told me I shouldn't see my "worldly friends" anymore.

At the time, I didn't recognize this as a red flag of cultic control — the mechanical isolation of a member from their past. To me, it felt like permission to cut the cord. By indirectly encouraging me to sever the only tether I had left, the organization’s drive for total control accidentally rescued me from a predator’s trap.

I never followed up on Mike's offer. I decided not to do anything about the note and didn’t see Mike again for several years until I visited him in 1986, with some idea of confronting him. But when he instantly asked me if I wanted to stay overnight, I refused and never saw him again.

UBF eventually took over my life for a decade, but in that one specific moment, their intervention spared me from a different kind of wreckage.

The Perfect Storm (June 1982)

June 1982 wasn't just a time of change; it was a total upheaval. I had just graduated from high school in a Columbus suburb, which should have been a relief. I’d been bullied relentlessly since the fourth grade — so much so that I once told a teacher I felt like I was in prison.

But graduation was a double-edged sword. It meant losing my only lifeline: a church youth group led by a mentor who was one of the few adults who never criticized me. Without that sanctuary, I was adrift.

The Betrayal and the Accusation

At the same time, a person who had told me he was my best friend for two years revealed himself to be a sociopath. After getting me drunk at a graduation party, he and his family accused me of stealing $32,000 in cash and jewelry. They interrogated me all night, threatening that "This isn't over".

The Household Explosion

At home, things were just as toxic. I was the oldest of four and I took out my bullying trauma on my siblings. I was cussing out my parents and stealing money. Finally, my mom hit her breaking point: “You’re 18 now. I want you out of my house!”.

My "Cannonball" into UBF

This is exactly when University Bible Fellowship (UBF) stepped in. I was "fished" on the Ohio State campus by Teddy and Richard while riding my bike on the South Oval about three weeks after I graduated from high school.

When I was kicked out of my house, I told Teddy. He didn't suggest a shelter or a job hunt; he said, “Move in with me”.

I went from living at home to total immersion in a UBF group house on E 14th Ave — living with Teddy and other members — in a matter of weeks. I call this period my Cannonball — no gradual entry, just a total plunge into the current.

The Hook: Protection and Love Bombing

The group became my guardians. When the person who falsely accused me tried to harass me at my new place, Teddy and the biggest guys from our chapter confronted them and told them to back off. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had protectors.

Then came a surprise birthday party in August 1982. I was moved to tears because no one outside my family had ever celebrated me like that.

At the time, I thought I’d found a family. Now, looking back through the lens of my memoir project, I Was a Teenage Cult Member, I see it for exactly what it was: textbook love bombing designed to replace my lost identity with their sheep identity.

The idea that people "fall" for cults because they lack common sense or are "lost souls" is one of the most dangerous myths out there. I didn’t "fall" into the high-control group University Bible Fellowship (UBF); I cannonballed into it.

I was 18, three weeks out of high school, and had spent years being bullied. I wasn't looking for a cult; I was looking for a place where I wasn't being hit or belittled.

The Bait: Ordinary Kindness

It started with two human gestures. A guy named Teddy stopped me while I was riding my bike on campus. He offered to take me out for a steak dinner so we could talk about Bible study. He gave me my first Bible. He was kind. For someone who grew up bullied, that kindness felt like a life raft.

The Hook: Total Immersion (The Cannonball)

When my home life hit a breaking point and my mom told me to move out, Teddy didn't just sympathize. He said, "Move in with me!" Within days, I was living in a UBF house. No gradual entry. Total immersion. This was my "Cannonball." My birthday came shortly after, and they threw me a party. It was the first time anyone outside my family had ever celebrated my birthday. I remember standing outside crying because I felt I "didn't deserve this."

The Protection: "Us vs. Them"

The hook was set deep when they protected me from a "friend" who was trying to extort me. My "friend" and his parents had accused me of a crime I didn't commit. Teddy rounded up the biggest guys in the group, drove to the guy's house, and told him that if he had a real problem with me, he should call the police. Otherwise, Teddy didn’t want to hear anything else from him. I never heard from that "friend" again. At that moment, the group wasn't a "cult" — they were my brothers. They were my protectors.

The Lie: "We Are Your Real Family"

By the time I enrolled in college in 1983, I had been shuffled from one UBF apartment to another several times. My classes were scheduled around the group’s meetings. I had bought into the ultimate high-control lie: "We are more of a family to you than your own family is."

The Reality:

I didn't lose my "common sense." I was recruited through:

• Calculated Simple Human Acceptance: Steak dinner, a Bible, and a birthday party.
• Physical Protection: Standing up to my bullies when I couldn’t.
• Total Immersion: Moving me into their housing before I could develop adult independence.

My cult didn’t recruit me with theology; they recruited me by filling the emptiness in my life so completely that I didn't notice the walls closing in until I was already inside.

The Questions That Cost Me: Silence, Rebukes, and the Slow Burn of Realization

My experience with University Bible Fellowship (UBF) from June 1982 to June 1992 was peppered with questions that could have ended my involvement much earlier. Some I asked out loud; others remained unspoken, acting as internal alarms I wasn't yet ready to heed.

1982–1983: Early Alarms

Not long after I cannonballed into UBF by moving into my Bible teacher Teddy’s house in the summer of 1982, he learned I didn't have a key verse - a Bible verse for personal inspiration. Teddy proclaimed, “I would throw myself off a cliff for my key verse!” The reply that immediately popped into my head — but stayed there — was: “Shouldn’t Jesus be the one you’re willing to die for?”

In 1983, Teddy described how he and another member were basically stalking a former member who had been deprogrammed and then moved back to town. While others listened to him like he  was telling them about a real-life movie, all I could think was: “How is this a good thing to do?”

1985: The Year the Questions Bit Back

By Spring 1985, I was leading a small group of my own. Timothy, a leader from Chicago, joined us and began monopolizing our discussions with interminable ramblings. When I privately asked him if he could talk less, he rebuked me for daring to correct him, claiming my motivation was pride rather than concern for the group.

Later that spring, I asked Peter (the chapter leader) if I was ready for a "biblical name", a practice UBF used to acknowledge a member’s spiritual growth. He laughed and told me I was too spiritually young. It felt like he was telling me I was a child who wasn't ready to take the training wheels off my bike. That was the end of my UBF honeymoon.

Mid-1985: Ulcers or Peace?

By mid-1985, I was starting to feel oppressed and stressed. My stomach was giving me trouble, and I thought I might be developing ulcers. When I mentioned this to a roommate, he replied, “You’re supposed to have peace with God, not ulcers!” My unspoken reply: “Then maybe I’m not with God.”

Late 1980s: Visual Lies

At a regional conference, I watched a photographer arrange people in alternating rows to make a half-empty auditorium look full. I asked myself: “If they visually lie about how many people are here, what else does UBF lie about?”

Early 1990: The Question That Changed Everything

In early 1990, I was living in the Northwood house with Moses — the most coercive Bible teacher I ever had - and his family. One morning, while his wife Pauline fixed his breakfast, Moses ordered me to complete a burdensome task that day. Knowing that I wasn’t a morning person, I took a moment to calm myself. I then took a breath and asked one word: “Why?”

Pauline’s reaction was a vehement rebuke that laid their entire worldview and actual mindset concerning me bare:

“How dare you question my husband?! He’s your leader and knows what’s best for you! You’re just a poor, dumb sheep who doesn’t know any better and he’s the wise and benevolent shepherd who knows the only good way for you to live!”

That morning was the moment I decided I had to leave UBF. 

I moved to my own apartment and started grad school in September 1991, and by June 1992, I finally made my Sidewalk Exit from the group altogether.

The Sanctuary of Fraud - How a Cult’s "No Dating" Rule Became My Safe Place

My cult experience was with a group called University Bible Fellowship (UBF) and their main taboo was against relationships between men and women.

The Setup: Why I Welcomed the Rule

Some of the harassment I endured throughout high school included girls flirting with me only to humiliate me. Once, a girl named Kim asked me out and gave me her address, but then stood silently in her dark apartment while I knocked on her door. She didn’t know I could see her through a window.

Imagine my relief when I joined UBF and the chapter leader, Peter, declared there would be no dating between members. It felt like security; the behaviors that had hurt me were now outlawed.

The Enforcement: Sobbing While Preparing for a Christmas Service

UBF’s stance was rigid and bizarrely inconsistent:

• The Double Standard: My sister was rebuked for meeting a guy just to study. However, I wasn’t rebuked for spending hours alone with a woman while I typed her PhD dissertation.
• The Blanket Incident: I was once rebuked for sharing a blanket with a girl by putting it over our feet while we were sitting on separate chairs.
• The Tirade: During preparations for a Christmas service, Peter launched into a 30-minute tirade, screaming that we were "evil" and acting on "lustful desires" because some men and women had been joking around. Because he started yelling right after I spoke, I took it personally and started sobbing. He told me my tears were because my "sin had been exposed before God".

The Mechanism: Marriage by Faith

In UBF, "Marriage by Faith" meant chapter leaders decided when and whom you would marry.

• One guy from our chapter flew to Korea to meet his wife for the first time on their wedding day.
• The group exerted total control over relational autonomy, often moving members to different cities once they were "matched".

The Hypocrisy: "Of Course They Dated"

During my Northwood Years (1987–1990), I moved in with a leader named Moses. He took a photo of a girl I liked — a waitress from a restaurant where I had worked - from me, promising to "keep it safe". I never saw it again; I’m sure he destroyed it.

The revelation of UBF’s hypocrisy came when Moses casually mentioned that a "matched" couple in our chapter had "of course" dated before marriage. This meant Peter was a baldfaced liar. My sanctuary had been a fraud the whole time.

Dodging a "Marriage by Faith" Bullet

Because Peter had gotten so fully in my head, I think I dodged a bullet during my later years. Peter’s wife once asked me to go with her to pick up a student named Tina from the airport. When Tina stepped forward to hug me, I froze. I heard Peter’s voice in my mind and saw his wife standing right there.

Looking back, I believe Peter was testing me for a potential "match" with Tina. A few weeks later, I saw her on campus with another guy, who seemed embarrassed to see me — likely because I had been the first choice for that arrangement.

Reclaiming My Life

I was blessed to meet Fran near the end of my UBF years. We started dating on our own terms and married in November 1992. In a few months, we will celebrate our 34th anniversary. I have a wonderful marriage with a woman who saw me for myself—not because a leader decided it was "appropriate".

The Diminishing Process: How a Cult Stripped Away My Identity.

I recently wrote a journal entry about identifying the "False Self" people create so they can survive cults or high-control groups. At first, I didn't think I had a false self; I thought I was just "me." But looking  back at my decade in University Bible Fellowship (UBF), I realize I was systematically diminished. This meant that vital parts of myself were stripped away until they thought they could manage me.

My Life Before the Storm

Before I was "fished" on the Ohio State campus in 1982, I was a mess — I had been bullied from fourth grade until my senior year of high school, I had no self-esteem, and was reckless. But I had three sources of peace in my life: movies, science fiction, and bike riding.

• I’d seen Raiders of the Lost Ark 14 times. My siblings and I were crazy about Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back.
• I read any science fiction books I could find. During my senior year of high school, I discovered Dinosaur Planet and Dinosaur Planet Survivors by Anne McCaffrey.
• I spent my nights on bike rides of at least 10 miles because those were the only times no one bothered me.

The Hook and the First Positive Thought

When Teddy and Richard found me, I was directionless. UBF felt welcoming. They gave me a birthday party when no one else besides my family would. During a 1-1 study on Genesis 1:31 ("God saw all that he had made, and it was very good"), I felt a voice say: "And that included you." It was the first positive thought I ever had about myself.

That was the hook. Then the diminishment began.

The 10-Year Stripping of the Self

UBF didn't change me all at once; they chipped away at me until only a sheep remained:

• The Literacy Ban: Peter (our chapter leader) saw me reading Dinosaur Planet in the fall of 1982 and told me I shouldn’t read science fiction anymore. I lost my favorite genre for years. Later, Moses (the leader I lived with at the time) saw my copy of Grendel and confiscated it, calling it "filth about demons."
• The Aesthetic Control: I was finally able to grow a mustache when I was 20. Peter ordered me to shave it because I "wanted to be like the world." I stayed clean-shaven until I left in 1992.
• The Academic Veto: I wanted to switch my major to Elementary Education. Peter rebuked me in front of the whole chapter, claiming I was just afraid of teenagers. He forced me to stay in a major I didn't want.
• The Humor Wall: My natural banter was labeled "lustful" or "obscene." I was rebuked for making a simple joke about "chemistry" between a married couple.

The 115-Page Violation

In 1984, I was forced to write a life testimony. I poured out 115 handwritten pages of raw trauma - bullying, pedophilic victimization, and self-loathing.

James (later Moses) hounded me until I hit a breaking point. They then boiled those 115 pages of pain down to 12 pages of a thumbnail sketch that made me look like a wretch just so they could sing the praises of the "gentle shepherds" who saved me. It wasn't a testimony; it was propaganda for UBF and 1-1 Bible study.

The Intellectual and Final Exits

My intellectual exit from UBF happened when Moses' wife screamed at me for simply asking "Why?" after he gave me an order. She called me a "poor, dumb sheep." That was the moment I finally realized UBF was not safe.

My physical exit came in June 1992. I told Peter I was thinking of transferring to Ohio University to finish grad school.

Peter looked at me and said: “I don’t think I am ready for you to do that yet.”

In that sentence, the mask fell. He didn't want me to grow; he wanted a puppet. I didn't say a word. I turned around, walked away, and started living life on my own terms.

Note to the community: This is part of my ongoing project, I Was a Teenage Cult Member, which is replacing their 1984 revision of my life history with the unvarnished truth.

The Garage and the Lifeline (1978–1982)

My adolescence was defined by bullying and isolation, making safe spaces a necessity.

Dottie, the youth group leader at my parents’ church Boulevard Presbyterian, provided a safe place for me in more ways than one. During the summer before my freshman year of high school, she invited me to join the youth group. I had no idea that she was throwing me a lifeline before I even knew that I needed it.

When I rode my bike to school, people always tampered with it. They would let the air out of my tires and take the chain off its sprockets; I started riding with a set of tools and an air pump. Halfway through my freshman year, I asked Dottie if I could park my bike in her garage during the school day; she lived a few blocks from the high school. She asked no questions; she simply said that it was all right.

The church youth group became my only safe harbor, a place where I had friends and adults who didn’t yell at me. During this time, Dottie gave me a cross-stitched bookmark with the first part of Psalm 103:1: "Bless the Lord, O my soul…". She told me every stitch was a prayer for me. I held onto that bookmark for over thirty years, unaware that it was the first seed of the Word that would eventually lead to my freedom.

Youth group retreats were my favorite times with the group. On one retreat, my brother Randy was in a canoe on a pond. Suddenly he said, “Oh, crap!” and sat there baffled as his canoe sank with him in it; it had sprung a sudden leak. On another retreat, Dottie was asleep when some of us were hungry. We found some spaghetti in the kitchen and decided to fix it, but we weren’t sure how to tell if it had boiled long enough. Then someone mentioned they had heard a strand of spaghetti would stick to the wall if it was done. So we took turns throwing clumps of spaghetti against the wall. I can’t remember if we actually ate the spaghetti or how Dottie reacted when she saw the mess the next morning.

Fished into the Cult and the Takeover (1982–1988)

In June 1982, three weeks after I graduated from high school, I was recruited into University Bible Fellowship (UBF). They recognized my vulnerability and used it to create a deep dependency. For ten years, the group dictated my appearance, my academic major, and my housing situation, including dictating who my roommates would be.

Despite this control, I began to reclaim my own path between 1988 and 1990 by returning to Ohio State and working 35 hours a week in the Financial Aid Office. I graduated with a 3.2 GPA in June 1990, proving a level of professional continuity that the group’s narrative of me as a "confused 18-year-old" ignored.

The Delicious Irony of the Word

The greatest irony of my time in UBF was that the Bible — the book they intended to use for my subjugation — became the means of my liberation. While they tried to mold me into a puppet, specific verses began to anchor my identity outside of their influence:

Genesis 1:31. Early on, I realized that when God saw all He made was "very good," that included me. Reading that verse made me think, “And that included me.” It was the first positive thought I ever had about myself.

Philippians 1:6. During the time I was cast out of UBF (November 1985 to Spring 1987), a friend used this to remind me that God wasn't done with me yet.

Psalm 139:16.: This verse shattered my sense of worthlessness by showing my days were ordained before I was even born.

Genesis 50:20. "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good...". This became the lens through which I viewed the entire experience.

The New Relationship with Dad

This spiritual re-calibration also transformed my relationship with my Dad. In 1988, we started a private Bible study. Although I used UBF guides, I kept our sessions entirely independent from the group's indoctrination process. We shared family histories - including how Dad’s father stayed alive on his deathbed long enough to see me, his first grandchild - and stories of our own teenage joyrides, leading to the first hug with Dad I can ever remember. I would repeat the entire decade in UBF just to ensure this relationship with my dad turned out the same.

The Tide Pool and the Sidewalk Exit (1990–1992)

The atmosphere shifted in 1990 when the house leaders, Moses and Pauline, left the country. For the first time in eight years, I could breathe. I started grad school in 1991, moved into my own apartment, and eventually met Fran - the woman I would marry in November 1992 - whose kindness was a stark contrast to the group's rigid standards.

The end came in June 1992. I was standing on the sidewalk after a Sunday service, telling the chapter leader, Peter, about my plans to transfer to Ohio University. He looked at me and said, “I don’t think I am ready for you to do that yet”. That comment shattered the illusion of his authority. I realized that the lifeline Dottie had thrown me years ago with a cross-stitched bookmark had finally pulled me to safety.

Most people think of moral injury as a single, catastrophic event. But as I reflect on my decade within University Bible Fellowship (UBF) from 1982 to 1992, I realize that moral injury can also be a slow, systemic stripping away of a person’s family, history, and identity. The goal was simple: to turn a sovereign adult into a sheep in their pasture.

1982: The Erasure of the Normal

The micro-management began almost immediately. In September 1982, only three months after joining, I was rebuked by the chapter leader, Peter, for disgraceful behavior at a conference. My crime was climbing a tree, joking with friends, and talking to girls. At nineteen, I was taught that acting like a normal teenager was a sin.

At 20, when I grew a mustache to match my manager at work, Peter ordered me to shave it in front of the entire chapter during a meeting. I stayed clean-shaven until I left in 1992.

1984: The Forced Autobiography

The most devastating injury occurred when I was told to write a life testimony. James hounded me to include every detail of my life until my draft reached 115 handwritten, single-spaced pages. I was forced to relive every trauma: the bullying, the adolescent victimization by pedophiles, and growing up friendless and alone.

No matter how much I wrote, James demanded more details. He hounded me with the question, “What did you do?” Finally, I broke down and shouted, “I looked at myself in the mirror and said, ‘I hate you!!’ Is that what you’re looking for?!”

Apparently, it was, because he finally seemed satisfied. Then, those 115 pages of my rawest emotional truth were boiled down to a 12-page antiseptic summary that sang the cult’s leaders praises for my transformation and announced that I was now a good little UBFer. I was told my worldly life was over and that my negative feelings proved a lack of faith.

1985: The Career Ceiling

Even my professional life was dictated. When I wanted to change my major from Secondary English Education to Elementary Education because I felt a better connection to children than teens, Peter blindsided me at a meeting and ordered me not to. He claimed I was only changing because I was afraid of teenagers. I obeyed, earning a degree I have barely been able to use in my entire professional life.

1988–1990: The Bookshelf Purge

During the Northwood years, my intellectual autonomy was directly assaulted. I was a Secondary English Education major, keeping textbooks and novels from my British and American literature courses. I was exploring my field; a British Lit professor had recommended the novel Grendel, which retold Beowulf from the monster’s perspective.

Moses walked into my room while I was studying and began looking at my books. He saw The Right Stuff and reproached me for reading fiction. Then he pulled Grendel off the shelf. His face hardened. He told me I was polluting my mind and stunting my spiritual growth by reading filth about demons. He began pulling other books he found objectionable off my shelf and took them away. I never saw them again. He perceived something as wrong and instantly rushed to stamp it out, needing no explanations.

1990: The Intellectual Exit

The final crack in the facade came through Moses’ wife Pauline, a woman I considered a friend. One morning, I was finishing my coffee before going to campus. Moses joined me at the table and ordered me to do something I found burdensome. I took a moment to breathe and make sure I was calm, then I turned to Moses and asked, “Why?”

Pauline’s reaction pulled the floor out from under me. She stood over me and unleashed a rebuke that rivaled the leaders’ rebukes in volume and intensity.

“How dare you question my husband?! He’s your leader and knows what’s best for you! You’re just a poor dumb sheep who doesn’t know any better and he’s the wise and benevolent shepherd who knows the only good way for you to live!”

This was a complete gut punch. We had bonded over her daughters; I would make silly faces until they laughed and we would all laugh together. The woman screaming at me bore no resemblance to that friend. That rebuke solidified the idea that I had to leave. Although my actual exit didn’t come for almost another two and a half years, Pauline’s rebuke marked my intellectual exit. It was the moment I completely stopped believing UBF was a safe place.

Moral injury means that a cult deeply hurts you while you’re involved with them. Sometimes the injury can be a certain event that strikes home and leaves a specific impact. For other people, the moral injury can go much deeper.

As I reflect on my time in University Bible Fellowship (UBF) from June 1982 to June 1992, I realize that the entire decade I spent with them was a systemic moral injury which sought to strip away my family and personal identity and turn me into a sheep in their pasture.

One of the first steps in this system happened just a couple of months after I joined UBF. In September 1982, our chapter went to Ontario, Canada, for an international conference. During the conference’s first afternoon, I wandered around, joked with a couple of guys from our chapter, tried climbing a tree, and talked with a couple of girls. Peter, our chapter leader, sent for me and started yelling at me about how disgraceful my behavior was. He threatened to send me home but relented when I promised to behave for the rest of the weekend. So I learned that it was wrong to act like a normal teenager.

My facial hair didn’t start growing until I was 20. When I noticed that the new manager at my job was growing a moustache, I stopped shaving and let my moustache grow. During a Saturday testimony meeting, Peter called me out in front of the entire chapter and ordered me to shave and not let my facial hair grow again. I stayed clean shaven until after June 1992, when I left UBF for good.

During high school, I put my family through hell and had lots of conflict with both my parents. I was especially bitter toward Dad and told Teddy, my Bible teacher, about it. Later, whenever I tried saying something positive about Dad, Teddy would cut me off and not let me finish. He would say, “Remember how your Dad treated you!” This played into UBF’s overall attitude about families which was basically, “We’re more of a family to you than your own flesh and blood are.”

In February 1984, Peter told me I had been chosen to present my life testimony at the regional UBF conference in April and that James was going to help me write it. At first, I was glad that I wouldn’t have to write it alone.

I was told to write everything I could remember about my life. I wrote 25 pages but James said it wasn’t enough, so I wrote 15 pages more. 40 pages still wasn’t enough, so I was told to write even more. I was made to write every single detail there was about my entire life. James forced me to write about all the bullying which went back almost as far as I could remember, being victimized by two pedophiles during my adolescence, and growing up friendless and alone. I had to relive all of this while it was still fresh.

No matter how much I wrote, James demanded more details. He hounded me with the question, “What did you do?” Finally, I broke down and shouted, “I looked at myself in the mirror and said, ‘I hate you!!’ Is that what you’re looking for?!” Apparently, it was because he finally seemed satisfied and we stopped writing the draft of my testimony. When I finished that draft, it was at least 115 pages of the rawest emotional experience of my life.

Then we started writing the official version of my life testimony. The 115 handwritten, single-spaced pages were boiled down to 12 typed, double-spaced pages which gave a sketch of what a mess my life had been before I started 1-1 Bible study with Teddy and told how I had been transformed in just a year and a half. This antiseptic summary bore little resemblance to the painful, full-disclosure autobiography I had spent a month pouring onto paper.

On the surface, writing and sharing my life testimony was a benign activity which showed how my life had changed through 1-1 Bible study. So what was wrong with writing it?

The 12 pages of my life testimony consisted of two parts. The first half gave a bird’s eye thumbnail sketch of the worst parts of my life and barely mentioned any of the good parts. The rest of it vividly described how 1-1 Bible study gave me my salvation and sang Teddy’s and Peter’s praises for being the good and compassionate shepherds who took me by the hand and led me to the green pastures of being a good little UBFer.

Writing that life testimony was the most devastating experience of my single life. From the beginning of my time there, Peter had portrayed UBF as a safe haven where people who had been chewed up and spit out by the world could find rest for their souls and safety in the love of God. My life testimony created the first cracks in that heavenly facade.

If I mentioned the negative feelings caused by writing my draft, I was told that they didn’t matter because my worldly life was over now. I was a new creation in Jesus, so I was automatically free from all the negativity. If I acknowledged those feelings, I was demonstrating a lack of faith and declaring that God was powerless to change my life. Because I was now a Christian, I was expected to just flip a switch and turn off my past life. For years, I thought there was something wrong with me and my faith because I couldn’t find that switch.

In either late 1984 or early 1985, my major at Ohio State was Secondary English Education; I would get certified to teach junior high and high school English. Not long after starting my major, I realized that it might not be a good fit because I felt more connected to children than teens. So I started thinking about changing my major. I must have told someone at UBF about my thinking who relayed it to Peter, because he blindsided me about it at another Saturday testimony meeting. He ordered me not to change my major because I was only doing it since I was afraid of teenagers. So I listened to him and kept my major as it was, which led me to earn a degree that I pretty much haven’t been able to use during my entire professional life.

In mid-October 1985, I was fired for the first time. By this time, Teddy had left Columbus to try starting his own UBF chapter somewhere else, so Tom was my new Bible teacher. I fumed about losing the job for a week or two. The next time we met for 1-1 Bible study, Tom decided he had heard enough of my griping. He told me that he was going to give me some training so I could learn who really had control of my life. He gave me the sentence, “God can do whatever he wants to with my life.”, and said I should write it over and over again until I could accept it as the truth.

I wrote, “God can do whatever he wants to with my life,” about fifteen times, then I decided that Tom’s training was stupid. The last time I had been punished by being made to write something over and over, I was in the third grade. I snuck out of the center (the house where Peter and his family lived and where meetings and Sunday services were held), and went to my parents’ house.

About an hour and a half later, Brent and Todd found me and asked why I had left the center. I looked them in the eye and said, "Because I felt like Tom was trying to brainwash me.” Tom called me a little later and asked if I had really accused him of brainwashing me. When I said, “Yes,” his reply was simple. He said, “Then I cast you out.” I was punished for speaking the truth. This started the darkest time of my single life; a period which I call “the wilderness years.”

During my wilderness years (November 1985 to Spring 1987), I was a dishwasher at a restaurant called the Aspen Inn (the Aspen). It was there that I met Bridgett, a waitress, who became the only regularly encouraging presence during the year and a half I was out of UBF. The first night we talked, I told everything about UBF and how Tom had cast me out. I said I didn’t know what to do. She shared Philippians 1:6 with me - “...being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” - then simply said, “God isn’t done with you yet.”

Because we worked a lot of the same shifts, Bridgett and I became friends and started going to church together occasionally. As our friendship grew, I realized I had a crush on her and told her about it. She replied that while she valued my friendship, she didn’t think a relationship could work because of our age difference; she was ten years older. When I left my job at the Aspen, Bridgett gave me a photo of herself.

In November 1986, I went to church with Bridgett and heard a sermon that changed my life. It was about Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son, from Luke 15. This sermon was earth shattering for me because it revealed that God’s love for me had never wavered, no matter how much I had denied him and turned my back on him during the last year and a half. The whole time I had been smoking pot and drinking beer while striving to not be sober, he was right there with me. My heart melted when the pastor said, “The son decided to go home because home was a safe place to be. The father’s welcome proved that it was safe to go home.”

(Continued in first comment below)