When a Church Feels Less Like God’s House and More Like Control

A few days ago, I was asked to visit what I expected to be a church. I went in with an open mind. I have been around religion, Scripture, theological arguments, Jewish tradition, Christian doctrine, and Protestant interpretations long enough to know that churches can differ. Some are quiet and liturgical. Some are loud and charismatic. Some are traditional. Some are contemporary. But a church, at its core, should still feel like a place of worship. It should feel welcoming. It should feel peaceful. It should feel like people are there to pray with you and for you, not pressure you, corner you, or argue you into submission. It should feel like the Lord’s house.

This place did not feel that way.

The background alone raises serious concerns. According to the Chicago Sun-Times, the World Mission Society Church of God was founded in South Korea in the 1960s and teaches that Ahnsahnghong, a Korean man who died in 1985, was the second coming of Jesus. It also regards Zahng Gil-jah, a South Korean woman, as divine. The article reports that some former members have described the organization as a “doomsday cult,” while the church strongly rejects that label and says participation is voluntary and based on personal conviction. The same article also says the group has expanded in the Chicago area, including sites in Naperville, Oak Lawn, Niles, Bloomingdale, and the Loop. (Chicago Sun-Times)

Those are not small theological differences. They go directly to the identity of Christ, salvation, authority, and what Christianity actually teaches. The Sun-Times also reported allegations from former members and court records involving claims of financial pressure, isolation from nonbelieving family and friends, failed end-times predictions, arranged marriages, and other disturbing accusations. The church denies that these allegations reflect its beliefs or mission. (Chicago Sun-Times)

That background matters because it gives context to what I experienced when I walked in.

Almost immediately, I felt pushed toward “Bible classes.” But what I encountered did not feel like Bible study. It felt more like indoctrination. A real Bible class invites questions. It welcomes discussion. It allows Scripture to breathe. It does not operate in panic mode. It does not make the visitor feel like they are being processed through a system.

The man speaking with me came across as aggressive and argumentative. Instead of calmly discussing Scripture, he seemed to be trying to force a conclusion. That is not teaching. That is pressure. There is a difference between conviction and control. There is a difference between evangelism and manipulation.

I have extensive experience in religious studies, and personally, I lean toward Protestant views, or even toward Jews for Jesus in some respects, since I was once Jewish. That background matters because Christianity did not appear out of nowhere. Jesus was Jewish. He followed Jewish traditions. He taught within a Jewish world. Even baptism has roots in older Jewish purification practices, including the mikveh bath. Jesus Himself said, “I came not to abolish but to fulfill.” The point was not to erase the law and the prophets, but to fulfill what they were pointing toward.

That is why the way this man described the church’s beliefs made very little sense to me. It felt frantic, narrow, and spiritually claustrophobic. He seemed almost obsessed with the idea that many people will not be part of God’s new kingdom. But that is not the full biblical picture. Revelation 7:9 speaks of “a great multitude that no one could count,” from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. That image is not small. It is not narrow. It is not a tiny private club controlled by one organization. It is vast, global, and centered on the Lamb.

Jesus died for our sins for a reason. The Gospel is not that a handful of people who joined the right organization get access to God while everyone else is discarded. The Gospel is that Christ came to redeem, save, forgive, and reconcile. The prophets spoke of repentance, justice, mercy, restoration, and the coming kingdom of God. Jesus preached the kingdom, healed the broken, welcomed sinners, rebuked religious hypocrisy, and gave His life for the world.

That is the big picture. But what I heard sounded like cherry-picked verses used as weapons. Scripture can be quoted without being understood. Verses can be pulled out of context to create fear. Anyone can grab a passage and build an argument around it. But Christian truth is not built by random proof-texting. It must be read through the whole witness of Scripture, the prophets, the teachings of Jesus, the cross, the resurrection, grace, mercy, repentance, and salvation.

Even the prayer at the beginning felt odd. I understand that silent prayer can be legitimate in many Christian settings. But in that context, it did not feel pastoral or reverent. Normally, when someone prays with you, they pray openly. You recite a prayer together. You pray in the name of Jesus. At the very least, many Christians would expect something like the Lord’s Prayer. Instead, he prayed silently to himself. God only knows what he prayed to, and given the rest of the experience, that unsettled me.

When I left, I did not feel spiritually refreshed. I did not feel welcomed. I did not feel like I had encountered a church trying to guide someone toward Christ. I felt like I had escaped a place that was more interested in control than worship.

After I left, I even texted him. His response was cold. He did not really deny anything. He did not meaningfully defend his church. He did not respond like someone concerned for another person’s soul. I told him I would pray for him, and I meant it sincerely. But he did not even acknowledge that. To me, that said a lot. A person of God prays for others. A person of God wants people to find the true path. A person of God does not respond with coldness when someone expresses spiritual concern.

Reflecting on the whole experience, Matthew 24:5 came to mind: “Many will come in my name.” That warning feels relevant whenever any group claims special authority, special access, or special knowledge while pushing people into fear and submission. A church should point people to Christ, not to itself. It should lead people into prayer, not pressure. It should teach Scripture, not weaponize it. It should welcome the searching soul, not trap the visitor in an argument.

I went there expecting a church. What I felt was something else.

A normal church is peace. A normal church is prayer. A normal church is fellowship, humility, worship, and love. It should feel like the Lord’s house.

This did not.