The Cult of Belonging
Last weekend, I attended an all-women’s study group focused on cults. We spent hours examining the rise and fall of a modern cult leader known as Nature Boy. His life unfolded publicly on social media. Every sermon, every contradiction, every manipulation, every moment of harm was documented for the world to see. The purpose of the study was not to ridicule the followers. It was not to ask, “How could they be so foolish?”
The purpose was far more uncomfortable. We were asked to identify the part of ourselves that might have followed him. The lonely part. The wounded part. The hungry part. The part that wants something so badly that it becomes willing to overlook what is obvious. At first, I resisted the exercise. I wanted to believe I was too independent, too educated, too skeptical. Then I remembered my own history. At seventeen years old, I joined a spiritual community through a trusted adult. Eventually I moved across the country to be closer to the group. Looking back, I can see that what attracted me was not doctrine. It was family. The promise of belonging. The promise of being seen. The promise that I would no longer have to carry life by myself. I was not looking for a leader. I was looking for a home. That realization changed something in me. Years later, I found myself repeating the pattern in a different form. Not with a cult. With a relationship. I reached out to someone from my past during a season when my life felt frighteningly empty. My son appeared ready to move out. My family relationships were fractured. I felt disconnected from community. I was living in a city that did not feel like home. I was staring down the possibility of being completely alone. And that possibility terrified me. Not because I feared my own company. Because I longed for family. I wanted a partner. A tribe. A place to belong. What I understand now is that loneliness can become a powerful recruiter. It recruits us into relationships we should question. It recruits us into communities we should examine. It recruits us into dynamics that ask us to sacrifice pieces of ourselves in exchange for connection. The offer is almost always the same “Come here. You won’t have to be alone anymore.” When the need is strong enough, we stop evaluating the cost. That is where danger begins. Watching these documentaries a second time, I found myself less judgmental. I could see myself in the followers. I could see myself in the people who stayed too long. I could even see parts of myself in the leader. The longing to be special. The longing to be loved. The longing to matter. Those desires are profoundly human. The difference between healing and harm is not whether we have these needs. The difference is whether we can recognize them before someone else learns how to exploit them. Today, I know something important about myself. The greatest lure in my life is not money. It is not status. It is not spirituality. It is belonging. If someone promises me family, I will listen. If someone promises me community, I will lean in. If someone promises me that I never have to feel alone again, I will feel the pull. Knowing this does not make me weak. It makes me aware. Awareness is protection. Awareness allows me to pause and ask: Am I choosing this because it is healthy? Or because I am afraid? Am I moving toward love? Or away from loneliness? Those are not the same thing. Perhaps the deepest lesson is this: The answer to loneliness is not surrendering yourself to the first person who offers companionship. The answer is becoming so loyal to yourself that loneliness no longer has the authority to negotiate on your behalf. I do not know what my future holds. I do not know whether I will spend the rest of my life alone. I hope I won’t. I still believe in friendship. I still believe in love. I still believe in family. But now I understand something I did not understand before. Belonging that requires me to abandon myself is not belonging at all. And any love worth having must first be able to survive the truth.
By Kimberly!
