I reach out to the only person I know who has left the Family—Chris. The last time we spoke I was in Kazakhstan, and I broke up with him over the phone. I’d heard he left the Family a few months after our call and moved to Taiwan, where he’d grown up. I ask a few mutual friends and discover one of them has been secretly staying in contact with him and has his phone number. Chris and I speak briefly on the phone and arrange to meet at a nearby park.
The man who shows up is not the person I remember. Chris is almost skeletal; he’s lost nearly half his mass and is gaunt, drawn, and sickly thin. We walk in circles around and around the grassy grounds. Chris explains that after I left him, he became anorexic, supposedly triggered by my comments about his weight, and that he’s been in and out of the hospital on health issues related to illegal drugs. He tells me he’s been arrested once or twice for doing something stupid while either high or drunk. I feel responsible for this, and I resent the responsibility.
On our fifth lap around the park, the ice breaks. His sarcastic wit is as sharp as ever and we are soon laughing over our crazy times. I gently scold him to take better care of himself, but secretly I am at a loss. His life choices seem to confirm what the Shepherds have always told us, that we’ll end up on drugs or in jail if we leave the Family. When it’s time to say goodbye, we hug for a long time.
As I begin to pull away, he draws me closer, presses his mouth against my hair, and whispers, “No one ever understood me as well as you.” My heart aches with his pain.
“Please take better care of yourself,” I plead.
The next time I see Chris, he is in the hospital. One of his lungs has collapsed from drug use.
If I leave the Family, I promise myself, I will go to college; I will not do drugs or indulge in every bad thing I’ve been forbidden. But flashes of Chris and his fate linger. I know I am strong, that I can do what is necessary if I put my mind to it. But there is always uncertainty—undertones of Grandpa’s warnings of the Devil’s attacks on those who step outside God’s will.
In the coming months, I wrestle with guilt. My despair won’t go away no matter how many prophecies I record or how desperately I pray. My entire life I’ve been taught to think of college as a selfish waste of time, but recently the dream of going to college has grown from a tiny flicker into an all-consuming blaze.
Months go by, and I pray for God to change my desires and emotions. This depressed mental state is not normal for me. But I don’t see a future for myself in the Family that I can stomach, and I refuse to end up bitter and angry at God and everyone else because I feel like my choices were taken away. I refuse to live life saying, “If only I had . . .”
Maybe this depression is a sign? Maybe this is God’s way of telling me to leave?
I refuse to be trapped in my misery. I’d rather leave behind everything I have known my whole life—friends, family, support structure, income, everything—than have regrets.
I decide, finally. I. Am. Done.
I will be my own change.
Just minutes before, this had felt like an impossible leap, but once I’ve made my decision to leave the Family and go to college, the depression fades away.
For the first time in my life, I’m going to set my own terms.
26
Suffering Is Never Godly
My decision made, I must tell the Shepherds. I stand in front of JB and Sweetie’s plain, wooden bedroom door and raise my hand to knock. My breathing is shallow. I’m about to enact the biggest, most impactful decision of my life. Once I say what I mean to say, I can never take it back, even if I change my mind. I will never be trusted in the Family again. But I’m not willing to keep slugging through this unending haze of sadness. I take a deep breath, tighten my muscles, and knock.
Uncle JB opens the door. “Hi, Faith,” he says gently. “How are you? Can I help you?”
JB always seems kind. I like him, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of them now. Kindness is a tool they use to get me to reveal something they can use to punish me later.
“Can we please talk?” I ask softly. “Maybe go for a walk?”
“Of course,” he says, grabbing his sunglasses. He can tell it must be serious.
JB takes me to a nearby park, and with my eyes glued to the concrete path, we walk in silence. When I can no longer hold all the tension building inside me, I blurt out: “I want to go to college.”
With the bomb dropped, I quickly work my way through all the reasons I’ve carefully crafted.
He listens silently, then directs me to sit down on a bench. He trots out the usual arguments. “You’ll be failing God, leaving His will. How will you support yourself?”
I stop listening. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to go to college, and that college is going to be in America. I’ve heard from my grandparents that American colleges are the best and provide financial aid to US citizens. As he pressures me, I tell JB I plan to return to the Family once I have my degree. But this is something that I must do. I’ve wrestled with the decision for months.
He tries a few more times to convince me, but there’s no point. We both know he can’t make me stay. I’m over twenty-one, and the days of physically imprisoning or forcing people in the Family are over.
Back at the Home, Sweetie tells me I won’t be allowed to go out witnessing and fundraising to get money to leave the Family. I’ll have to make do with what I have. Lowering my eyes in acceptance, I hurry to my room. I quietly close my door and dig under my mattress for the sock I’ve kept all these years to hold money I’ve earned or was gifted to me. I sort through a mixture of bills; it’s a few hundred dollars in a variety of currencies. Not nearly enough for a plane ticket to the United States. I have no money. I have no way to support myself . . . Before I can let the fear consume me, I set my jaw. Never give in. Never, never, never . . . I will find a way.
I decide to reach out to my parents to see if they might be able to help me financially. I haven’t heard from them since I left China a year ago. I don’t know how they’ll react to my decision to leave, but I’ve been an adult for a long time and this choice is my own. I am determined to go through with it, no matter what, even if my parents don’t approve.