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This is the story of how I got hooked to a radical movement as an adolescent and how I stayed there for over twenty years.
From age sixteen to thirty-nine I belonged to this movement, first in Rome (Italy), then in Cameroon (Africa), in Lisbon (Portugal), and, finally, in Chicago and New York (USA). Not only Christians but also faithful of other religions and even people who are not affiliated with any religion at all belong to this movement, attracted by one or the other of its aspects or ideas.
As a person who believes that I am responsible for the good of my neighbor, besides my own, I already shared with the proper religious channels my experience in this movement as well as my deep perplexities about its theological and psychological soundness and I invited them to intervene for the good and well-being of all its members.
I won’t name names since I do believe in the right of each person, each group, and each movement to their good name. I also believe that any organization, any institution, civil or religious, can become at any time somewhat of a cult, of a dictatorship, or the likes, if its members forget to remain vigilant and allow this to happen. I hope that, once this group reaches maturity, it will realize what is happening and will correct what needs to be corrected. I hope this with all my heart.
At this point of my life, this booklet is not driven by feelings of revenge or anger against anyone. I offer it simply as a cautionary tale to help people not to fall into the traps of cults, of cultic minded groups.
I’m aware that whoever reads these pages will notice that English is not my first language. However, I did not want to hire anyone who would write my story in a professional style. The words that you find here are my very words.
