Gretchen Guzman: Leaving Jehovah’s Witnesses—My Journey to Truth and Freedom

I must have been five or six years old when I first grasped the terrifying implications of my religious upbringing. I was at my little friend’s house across the street when, in innocent cruelty, I blurted out, “You’re going to die in Armageddon.”

Her father overheard me. “Jesus loves everybody!” he said firmly. “I think you had better go home now.”

I didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but I remember the confusion and rejection I felt. I had simply repeated what I had been taught by my parents, my grandparents, and my entire community of Jehovah’s Witnesses. The idea that those outside our religion would perish was an unquestioned truth in my young mind.

I was raised in a family of devoted Jehovah’s Witnesses, a faith that shaped every aspect of my life for 46 years. As a child, I loved the book You Can Live Forever in Paradise on Earth—its bright illustrations of a perfect world filled with lions, elephants, and happy families captivated me. I truly believed that obedience to Jehovah and his organization was the key to being part of that paradise.

From a young age, evangelizing was central to my life. I spent countless hours going door-to-door, distributing Watchtower and Awake! magazines. I vividly remember walking beside my grandmother, who once told me I had “beautiful feet” because they carried the message of salvation (Isaiah 52:7). That moment shaped my spiritual identity—I wanted to be as devoted and skillful as my grandparents, who were my role models.

At 12, I was baptized at an international convention in Vancouver, BC, officially dedicating my life to Jehovah. I dreamed of becoming a missionary, but instead, I married and had three beautiful boys, whom I raised in the faith.

Looking back, there were many signs that something was deeply wrong within the organization. I witnessed domestic abuse, child molestation, and severe depression among my fellow Witnesses. I saw friends struggle with suicidal thoughts and endured my own nervous breakdowns. Yet, I never questioned whether the organization was the truth. I simply assumed these were personal failings, not institutional problems.

Then came the night of the Memorial—the Jehovah’s Witness version of communion. Only the 144,000 “anointed” were allowed to partake of the bread and wine. I wasn’t one of them—or so I had been told. But that night, something extraordinary happened.

As I sat in that solemn meeting, I felt an overwhelming presence of love and acceptance, something I now recognize as the Holy Spirit. I was flooded with a vision of being invited to heaven to be with Jesus. I was so overcome that I wept. But I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. I wasn’t anointed. I panicked and begged God to take the feeling away. And just like that, it was gone.

I tried to forget that experience, but it lingered in my mind for years. I began to wonder why some Witnesses who claimed to be anointed were dismissed as mentally ill. The more I questioned, the more I realized how rigid and controlling the organization had become.

The breaking point came during the pandemic.

At first, I accepted the restrictions on meetings and ministry, trusting that we would return to normal soon. But as time went on, I noticed a disturbing shift. The Governing Body started issuing monthly video updates, not just with spiritual guidance but with mandates on medical decisions. This was new. Jehovah’s Witnesses had always been taught that medical choices—apart from the blood ban—were personal. Yet, now we were being subtly coerced into compliance.

I saw through the manipulation, but I was terrified. Disobeying the Governing Body felt like disobeying God himself. I had spent a lifetime believing they were his only channel of communication. Yet, for the first time, I found myself doubting them.

Desperate for answers, I did something that had always been forbidden—I read Crisis of Conscience by Raymond Franz, a former Governing Body member who had been expelled for questioning doctrine. That book changed everything. It shattered my illusions and opened my eyes to the truth: the Jehovah’s Witness organization was not God’s chosen people.

The realization was both liberating and devastating.

Shortly after reading Crisis of Conscience, I contracted a severe case of COVID-19. It nearly broke me. The physical pain was unbearable, but the mental anguish was worse. For months, I was plagued by depression and suicidal thoughts. But through that suffering, something extraordinary happened—I started to reconnect with the God I had known as a child.

With my "Watchtower goggles" off, I began reading the Bible without the organization’s interpretations clouding my understanding. And I saw the truth: many of the doctrines I had been taught had no scriptural basis. I was finally free to seek God on my own terms.

But freedom came at a cost.

In early 2023, I disassociated myself from Jehovah’s Witnesses. The consequence was immediate and brutal—total shunning. My parents, my grandfather, my siblings, my closest friends—everyone I had ever known—cut me off. It was as if I had died. The grief was suffocating. At times, the stress was so overwhelming that I feared for my own heart.

Yet, I could not go back. Pretending to believe a lie was impossible.

What I lost in relationships, I gained in authenticity. I am free to speak my truth, to be who I am, to love God without coercion. No longer do I live in fear of Armageddon, of disappointing a man-made hierarchy, or of losing my life for questioning authority.

I share my story for those who are still trapped, still afraid, still questioning. Leaving Jehovah’s Witnesses is like amputating a limb to save your life—it is painful, but it is necessary. And on the other side of that pain, there is healing, love, and freedom.

I am living proof.