For all its Nobel Prizes, research opportunities and history of activism, UC Berkeley wrestles with the realities of its size. Each year, campus welcomes more than 7,000 freshmen to a swelling student body of 45,000. While the chaos offers near-infinite opportunities for those who know where to look, it’s also easy to get lost. Fresh-faced 18-year-olds can fall all too easily into isolation amid the first few weeks of Greek life rush, consulting club mania and intense weeder classes.
It comes as no surprise that an innocent-looking student’s invitation to join a Bible study group can offer a respite to incoming freshmen wandering Sproul Plaza. UC Berkeley boasts more than 30 Christian-affiliated organizations, and these conversations often result in supportive communities of students who share a faith. However, for those approached by a select few groups, the salvation promised by the Berkeley Christian community can turn dark as they fall into the grasp of decades-long “cult-like” groups operating on campus.
The Daily Californian spoke to numerous former members of such groups, many of which reported tactics of isolation, pressure and religious absolutism. Some were granted anonymity and are addressed under pseudonyms for fear of retaliation. Over the past three decades, allegations have swarmed around some organizations driving some students attempt suicide, or coercing members struggling to pay for groceries to “donate” thousands of dollars.
As these groups regularly change their names and exist within a complex web of nationwide churches, it can be difficult for students to identify potentially dangerous organizations, even if they have been previously called out online or at another university.
The word “cult” has no formal legal definition, but it carries power. Experts generally describe such groups as “high-control” environments built on charismatic leadership, fear and the manipulation of belief.
“Obviously, the word ‘cult’ has a really scary connotation,” said Joseph Lee, president of Unity in Christ, or UiC, an inter-fellowship umbrella that unites more than a dozen campus ministries. “But for the most part, Christian cults are groups that call themselves Christian but twist biblical teachings and try to manipulate and misguide people.”
Former ASUC senator Will Park, who represented the Christian community, defined “cults” as groups that enforce the claim that their “idea of Christianity is the only way to heaven.” He said “warning signs” appear when doctrine departs from the core of Christianity.
Lee said coercion, fear and emotional dependence often follow but added that these tactics aren’t always obvious.
“They are heavily trained in trying to draw people in,” Lee said. “These people might be ordinary, nice people in surface-level interactions — you might have classes with them, they might be a partner in a lab group. But when it comes to what they believe in, in terms of the cult, they might be starkly different.”
On the surface, Thrive — a registered student organization, or RSO, that hosts Bible studies across campus — seems like any other ministry. But several former members described their experiences as high-controlling and anxiety-inducing.
“I apologize to any former members who have felt this way,” said Thrive president Baltazar Moreno in an email. “These are never our intentions.”
Thrive’s story is tangled in a lineage of Bay Area churches. The group was once connected to the San Francisco Bay International Christian Church, or ICC, before aligning with a splinter congregation, Restored Church Worldwide, or RCW.
In 2016, it was registered on campus as D.R.E.A.M. Campus Ministry, before changing its name to Thrive in 2024.
RCW Pastor Mike Patterson said members left the ICC in 2024. He alleged “corrupt leadership,” “lack of transparency,” dwindling numbers and “the Bible no longer being the standard.” The ICC declined to comment.
“By the time Restored Church Worldwide was officially formed … Thrive had already begun moving toward a healthier, more transparent, Bible-centered approach,” Patterson said in an email.
Lee, however, alleged that Thrive still teaches an exclusivist doctrine. “An example with Thrive would be their primary doctrine referencing salvation,” Lee said. “You have to be baptized at that church, you have to be affiliated with that church, no matter what, stuff like that. And obviously that’s just not true.”
Patterson disputed this characterization, saying RCW “believe(s) that anyone who is a disciple of Jesus is part of God’s church … regardless which organization they may be in.” He clarified that Thrive’s primary doctrine is “simply the Bible and it is the only source we use for our doctrine.”
Baptism remains a focal point. According to Patterson, new members typically complete seven studies before being baptized, though it isn’t a fixed requirement. He said baptism, “an urgent decision,” can happen anywhere there is water.
However, when Jamie — a former member from last year — recalled telling a Thrive member she preferred to be baptized at another church, they “started getting mad.”
“If it was actually somebody wanting you to be baptized … they wouldn’t be so adamant on you getting baptized at their church — they would just want you to be baptized in general,” Jamie said.
Samantha, another former member, said she was startled to learn that immersing herself in such a group meant reordering her life — potentially leaving her sorority and boyfriend. “It felt like everything was happening so fast,” she said. “If I decided (to join) I’d have to give up a lot.”
Thrive’s lesson notes, obtained by the Daily Cal, include a session on “persecution,” warning that believers may face hostility even “from those closest to you.”
Moreno denied the dark implication of the lesson and the allegations that Thrive pressures students to sever relationships. He said it encourages communication with family and involvement in other campus organizations that “respect (members’ own) moral beliefs.”
Thrive’s only aim, Moreno said, is to prepare students “for possible repercussions” of following the Bible, not to estrange them from family.
Several students described the atmosphere as tense and fast-paced — meeting daily, feeling judged for doubts or being contacted repeatedly after leaving.
“I started getting extremely bad anxiety,” Jamie said. “(I realized), ‘This is not God.’”
Moreno said members can leave at any time and that Thrive does not “harass” students who step away. “If they are not interested, there will be no further follow-up to contact them,” he wrote.
When asked about “high-control” religious groups, UC Berkeley spokesperson Adam Ratliff said campus cannot confirm or comment on specific student matters, citing privacy rules.
Oversight falls largely to student government and peer ministries. Christian ASUC Senator Abigail Cho said while she’s aware of such groups, the ASUC has not addressed them formally.
“The removal of certain groups … could bring up a lot of discourse,” she said, noting that religious freedoms limit administrative intervention.
Under campus policy, RSOs may lose recognition only if they violate the Code of Student Conduct. This can happen, for example, by causing “physical injury or personal degradation resulting in psychological harm.”
Cho and Lee both said Unity in Christ serves as an informal safeguard. Ministries that wish to join UiC must agree to a shared statement of faith. Thrive is not part of UiC.
“It’s important to do your due diligence … by looking at (a group’s) statement of faith or doctrine,” Lee said. “It doesn’t take too much investigation to find out what groups are solid and what groups aren’t.”
The current anxiety around Thrive echoes earlier chapters in Berkeley’s religious history. In 1981, Berkland Baptist Church was founded on the Berkeley-Oakland border. In 2006, when Berkland disbanded, a new congregation, Gracepoint, split off. Gracepoint expanded nationwide under the broader Acts 2 Network — its campus branches include Acts2Fellowship at UC Berkeley.
Today, Acts2Fellowship is an active UiC-affiliated group in good standing.
But former members of Berkland and Gracepoint described a darker past, including allegations of isolation and control that leaders now deny.
Mary Choi, who joined Berkland as a student in the 1990s, recalled being “love-bombed” by friendly upperclassmen. Soon, she was encouraged to live only with church members. “That’s how they control you,” claimed her husband, Jin, also a former member. “They cut you off from outside influences.”
Former Berkland pastor Ed Kang denied these claims, saying the church never dictated housing or contact with family.
Money was another source of strain. The Chois alleged that they were urged to tithe 10% of their income even as students on financial aid. Kang said in an email to the Daily Cal that tithing is a standard biblical mandate but “not a teaching emphasis,” and offerings are not collected during church gatherings.
Other former members from Bay Area offshoots echoed similar experiences. Leyla, a former student at San Francisco State University, alleged she was told to “repent” for holding hands with her boyfriend.
Kang denied allegations that physical contact was prohibited. Although the church encourages sexual abstinence until marriage, he said, physical-contact bans were “something we cannot do.”
Ava, another former member of a Gracepoint-affiliated ministry and San Francisco State graduate, said her involvement in the group spiraled over time. She described how the demand to be “the cookie-cutter Christian they wanted me to be” began to take a toll.
“I felt, because of that kind of conditioning, like I wasn’t good enough. And what was the purpose of me living, right? If God couldn’t fix me, then why was I existing?”
Ava ended up in and out of the hospital during her time in the church due to multiple suicide attempts. She later found out there were “dozens of other women” who had similar experiences.
“It’s very important for people to know that just because you think it could get better by staying, it only gets worse,” she said.
Today, Acts2Network and UC Berkeley’s Acts2Fellowship describe themselves as having mainstream Christian theology.
“People come and go as they please. I think the cult label is unfairly perpetuated, mainly through hearsay and the rumor mill,” said Acts2Fellowship college pastor Richard Tay in an email.
For the Chois, the memories linger. “(Leaving the church) was very traumatizing for me, because they were my family for five years,” Jin said. “When I left, I went from 300 friends to none.”
Decades later, Mary Choi still struggles to reconcile her faith with what she experienced. “I’m an ex-evangelical now,” she said.
But when she and her husband dropped her son off at college this fall and saw students advertising a familiar-sounding fellowship, she froze.
“There wasn’t a lot of information available when I started college,” she said. “I feel like it’s my duty to (speak out).”
Religious life at UC Berkeley has always reflected the campus itself — passionate, chaotic and at times, extreme.
Most Christian groups on campus operate openly and without controversy. But as generations of students have learned, discernment can be the difference between finding faith and losing oneself.
“A healthy group will point you to Jesus,” Lee said. “They will not control your faith.”
For students still searching for belonging, that distinction can be everything.