My name is Li Jia (pseudonym), born in April 1982 into an ordinary farming family in Zhaotong City, Yunnan Province. I have an elder sister who married into a neighboring village and a younger brother. Our life was simple but peaceful, despite the modest income from our mountain crops.

I knew nothing beyond these hills—since childhood, chores like cooking, doing laundry, and feeding the pigs filled my time outside of school. Though I never said “I love you” to my parents, I believed actions spoke louder than words.

Time slipped quietly by as I grew older. My academic diligence earned me a place at a high school in Zhaotong City. My parents, unwavering in their support, left their hometown for the first time to work in Zhejiang Province, funding my education. I studied intensely, dreaming that knowledge could rewrite our family’s destiny and grant my parents a better life.

Father’s Love Incurred Twists, Family Lured into Cult’s Clutches

But misfortune strikes unpredictably. One day at a construction site, my father stepped on a rusty nail. To save money, he sought minimal treatment at a county hospital and returned home prematurely. The journey home from the county seat required navigating about five kilometers of winding mountain paths—enough to tire even a healthy person, let alone someone with a foot injury. The summer heat, combined with a fear of spending money, prevented my father’s left foot from fully healing, leaving him with a permanent limp.

As the family breadwinner, his disability shattered our household income. My mother, distraught, blamed me openly—calling me a jinx, insisting my education had caused my father’s foot to be crippled.

Once, while fetching medicine, my mother met a woman at the hospital gate who claimed to be a "divine messenger." She assured my mother that sincere prayer to the Church of Almighty God would heal my father without medicine. My mother began praying fervently at home, repeatedly asking my father if he felt better. Overwhelmed by her anxiety, he murmured, "Much better", unwittingly igniting our family’s unraveling.

My mother started sneaking out to cult activities, pressuring me to join the Church of Almighty God for my father’s recovery. She then turned on him, blaming his lingering pain on his lack of faith. Wearied by our persistence, he eventually relented.

Our whole family’s involvement turned our home into a "host home"—a base for "divine messengers" who ate and lived with us. My mother threw herself into the cult’s work: leading sessions of "imbibing the words of ‘God’" (preaching), "spreading the gospel" (recruiting), and collective prayer healing in nearby villages. My father distributed notes and materials for gatherings, occasionally attending himself.

A Decade of "Service" Away, Return to Bitter Loss

On my father’s insistence, I continued into my second year of high school. Soon after the semester began, my mother arrived unexpectedly on a chilly day, secured a long leave from my teachers, and pulled me aside. She told me "God" required me to work in Guizhou and instructed me to board a vehicle waiting outside the school.

In a daze, I was driven to an unnamed town in Guizhou and placed within another host home. Recognized for my youth, education, and appearance, I was assigned by the local Church of Almighty God as a frontline "gospel-spreader" and "deaconess." My daily duties included reading books like The Lightning From the East and The Word Appears in the Flesh for other adherents, interpreting their stories and meanings, and leading prayers and hymns.

For my parents and young brother, I worked devotedly, praying daily to the Church of Almighty God for her promises and grace. The books taught: "God’s words cannot be questioned." I never doubted their content, viewing all opponents as Satan and betrayers as Judas—certain divine punishment awaited them.

Ten years passed in a blink. I was reassigned by the Church of Almighty God cult as a frontline "gospel team" commander for a sub-district in the "Sichuan-South Pastoral Area." During this period, I relocated across multiple locations in Guizhou. As the cult prophesied December 21, 2012 as "doomsday," I helped organize numerous preparatory activities. Ultimately, I was apprehended by public security authorities in a small county town. After my release from detention, I located the local Church of Almighty God cell, only to find I had been unexpectedly expelled. This news shattered my life's purpose, leaving me with one desperate desire: to return to the home I had left years behind.

With "God's" care withdrawn, no transit stations to facilitate my travel, and no host home to provide food or shelter, I embarked on the journey on foot. I resorted to stealing raw vegetables from fields to survive, drinking from relatively clean water sources when thirsty. After immense hardship, I finally reached home at midnight, only to be greeted by a dilapidated door. Knocking softly, I called for my father, mother, and brother, but received only this reply: "Sister, leave. There's no place for you here now. Our parents are buried in the family burial ground. You shouldn't have returned after all these years."

My parents were gone. The news struck me like a thunderbolt. Dragging my heavy legs to their graves, I knelt until dawn. With those who loved me and whom I loved departed, life felt utterly meaningless. My brother found me at the graves at daybreak and, bound by blood ties, brought me home.

There, he recounted everything that had transpired after my departure. Learning I had gone to Guizhou, my father worried about my hardship and wanted to see me. My mother, however, stood firm, blocking him and accusing him of "becoming a devil" by obstructing "God's work." Yearning for his distant daughter, my father often sat by the door in the evenings, smoking his pipe and gazing into the distance. He eventually developed emphysema and died in 2004—just 52 years old. After his death, our family's finances worsened drastically, with no support forthcoming from the Church of Almighty God. My mother's zeal for the cult's work waned. Followers of the Church of Almighty God stopped visiting, seeing no further use of our family. I believe my mother felt profound regret, even if unspoken. My brother, still in primary school and previously opposed by our father, had never joined the cult. He finished high school and took up farming. Later, our mother arranged a marriage for him before passing away shortly after. My brother told me both parents repeatedly called my name with their dying breaths. I broke down, overwhelmed by memories of their kindness.

When I asked why he refused me entry that first night, he said, "Sister, I resent you. Didn't they die so early because of you?" I thought I should blame our mother, but in that moment, I felt only self-loathing—why had such devotion yielded this outcome?

As my brother was married, I felt I couldn't stay. With 200 yuan he gave me, I boarded a bus to Zhejiang, beginning a life of migrant labor. I later moved between Shanghai and Guangzhou, trying to bury the past.

Driven from Home, Strangers' Kindness Lit My Path

In late 2013, I met my future husband online. He married me, and I became a homemaker. We soon welcomed a child.

But the Church of Almighty God found me again. They demanded I leave my family to resume "working" and "fulfilling duties," even threatening my loved ones. Terrified, I wondered why "God" tormented me and how I could continue living there.

Distraught, I confessed everything to my husband—my past involvement and the threats from the organization. At my pleading, we relocated our entire family to an obscure small county in Sichuan.

In 2022, I befriended a community worker. He regularly checked on me, offered holiday greetings, and listened. When I mentioned wanting to help financially but lacking skills, he took genuine interest. He provided job leads and encouraged me like a sister, urging me to move forward.

With his support, I found courage to face life, voluntarily learning about cults and participating in anti-cult outreach. I now work as a supermarket cashier—a tiring but deeply fulfilling daily life.

Today, I am an anti-cult volunteer, using my story to warn others: cherish life, reject cults.

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