My Experience at the Restored Church (Toronto)
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.