“An Honest Conversation about Abuse in the Church”

Let me preface this piece by saying that I am neither a licensed professional counselor nor am I a minister. I grew up within the Church, attended private Christian schools, and am currently a member of a local church. The culmination of my ethos is that I care deeply about people, justice, and the Church. Further, if you think you have experienced abuse, please reach out to a licensed professional counselor, a trusted friend, or me (through Instagram at @snikkithompson). 

You might feel like you need to protect them- like confessing the details of your experience is wrong, an invasion of privacy, or unfair. You might be hung up on the idea of nuance, terrified that people will perceive you as unforgiving or bitter. You might think “who would believe me when I barely even believe myself?” Maybe it only impacts you when you catch it off guard- when you accidentally stumble upon a memory or compare it to the kind words of a stranger. You might feel ignored. You’re allowed to be angry that no one questioned them. Maybe you still can’t pray, out of fear that your prayers aren’t genuine enough or theological enough. Maybe you’re caught between the belief that you’re not good enough and the belief that you should have known better.

I beg you, if you take anything away from this, know that I’m so sorry. It isn’t normal. It isn’t part of believing in grace or forgiveness. It isn’t the purpose of the church. It isn’t the heart of God.

An Aspirational View of the Church

In Scripture, Biblical authors impart to us a very specific view of what the Church is supposed to be. In Colossians, the Church is a place where God’s people pursue holiness, kindness, forgiveness, love, and unity. In Romans, the Church is a collective of differently-gifted believers. Acts describes the early Church as consistent communion, commonality, and generosity among believers.

“Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body” (Col. 3:12-15, ESV).

“For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another” (Rom. 12:4-5, ESV).

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers… And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people” (Acts 2:42-47, ESV).

Unfortunately, the church doesn’t always live up to this utopian vision. The concept of church hurt, the movement of ex-vangelicals, and the frequency of deconstruction all gesture to very real shortcomings in modern iterations of the Church. Though Christians are called to be holy and perfect (1 Pet. 1:16), the Church is still fundamentally a group of sinful, selfish people attempting to pursue their understanding of God. Because of this reality, abuse happens-- as it does everywhere else. However, when abuse happens within the confines of a place which is supposed to be so much more harmonious, peaceful, loving, and generous, the pain takes on an especially cynical and dissonant tone.

On Abuse in the Church

In my research and own personal therapy experience, I’ve learned that abuse is hard to define and identify. It is hard to know where to draw the line between “bad day(s)” and “patterns of abuse.” But, as many trauma-informed therapists will tell you, it is easier to recognize abuse by its effects; in the same way that we can look for signs of physical abuse in bruises and broken bones, we can recognize emotional/psychological, verbal, spiritual, and even sexual abuse through their lasting effects on a person’s psyche. Perhaps it’s the effects of a church counselor suggesting if you prayed more you’d overcome your mental health struggle. Perhaps it’s the church leader who only meets with you to discuss your against-the-grain beliefs. Perhaps it’s a loved one who proclaims Christ yet demeans and manipulates you. It may even be a respected church member who uses their status to take advantage of you. I don’t know what abuse looks like for you specifically, but one thing I refuse to do is devalue your experience’s validity with some definition I concoct out of thin air.

What I do know is this: it is extremely difficult to come to terms with abuse that occurs within the church. I want so desperately to believe that it doesn’t happen here. But, arguably, that belief is precisely why it continues to happen here. Because churches are meant to be led by upstanding, righteous leaders, abusive actions and behavior can go unidentified or unreported, for fear of retribution, disbelief, or simply because one cannot fathom that their spiritual leader could do something like that. Because churches are meant to be houses of mercy, victims may feel guilty or out-of-line for speaking out, rather than quietly extending forgiveness and hoping for accountability in the future. Because churches are meant to be places of spiritual vulnerability and sanctification, abusive behavior can be called sin rather than attributed to sin. When we don’t name abusive behavior, we tend to write it off as sin, in response to which victims may be advised to extend forgiveness to a struggling brother or sister rather than to create distance or pursue justice. This cycle creates opportunity for abuse to continue happening, and may leave the victim thinking that enduring these abusive behaviors is part of the burden of being a member of the body. I have to believe that there is a future with an abuse-free church, but maybe the first step towards that future is naming the problem.

Leaders and Accountability

In many churches, leadership fixates on the idea of raising up youth to serve; this often looks like giving young people positions of leadership (school chaplain, lifegroup leader, middle/high school volunteer, resident/intern, youth pastor, etc.). I believe the intention behind this is pure and good-- young people should absolutely be included in service to their local church. However, the execution can be faulty at best and problematic at worst. In reality, the problem isn’t even that these leaders are young-- it is that they are unequipped and unaccountable. 

Too often, people are given leadership roles and allowed to serve in ministry with little to no oversight. Imagine if a college student who wanted to go to medical school was allowed to perform surgery after only a vague idea of what surgery was like. The results would be devastating. You see where my analogy is going. Spirituality is delicate and vulnerable. The Church is a sacred space. Because this is so, the Church must take great care selecting the people who are trusted with their congregation’s hearts. We see in Scripture (Titus 1, 1 Tim. 3) that the qualifications of church leaders (specifically elders and deacons) are numerous and weighty: blameless, stable, sensible, teachable, hospitable, humble, trustworthy, sober, and gentle. And, coincidentally, in order to be something, you have to know what it is to not be that thing. If we want leaders to be gentle and trustworthy, they have to know what it means to be harsh and deceitful. 

Because of these passages, many churches take great care to select elders and deacons-- as they should! However, leaders in “less important” positions can be and are viewed with the mindset of “they’re growing into a ministry position.” While this may be true, this untrained individual can still be the genesis of many harmful interactions and even abuse. I don’t have a five-step solution to this. I just know that if we acknowledge the church as having the capability to cause great, multifaceted pain, we have to begin to fix it from the top down. It is all too common that leaders (who lack proper equipment or accountability) deeply hurt and, in some cases, abuse those entrusted into their care. Equipping and accountability go hand-in-hand-- if we plan to hold leaders accountable to the traits listed in Scripture, it means we have to train them to become those things (and vice versa). 

Justice and hope

Like I’ve mentioned before, I don’t have a master plan nor do I have any credentials. What I believe is this: Advocating for greater protections against abuse within the church does not look like crucifying abusers. It might look like enacting church discipline (whatever that may look like) on a leader or a member who has breached the trust of the body. It might look like advocating for an abuser- before they become an abuser. It might look like speaking up for a victim to safeguard against more abuse. It might look like questioning the relationship between a leader and a congregant, even at the risk of offending the leader. It absolutely looks like believing people who confide in you about abusive behavior. It absolutely looks like grieving with victims. It absolutely looks like pursuing justice in whatever way the victim feels most comfortable. However, we cannot only pursue responsive justice if we hope to end the presence of abuse in the church. We also have to act in a way to prevent further abuse. This can look like a lot of things, including having church staff and leadership who are trained in trauma-response and mental health care, prioritizing partnerships with LPCs, paying close attention to the environment of the church (what voices are listened to? who is not represented? who might be safe or unsafe?), recognizing and readily addressing instability in the lives of congregants, and so much more. Justice is addressing abuse that has happened. Hope is working towards a future where it won’t happen again.

I know this to be true: in the same way that the Church has the capacity to hurt, it has the capacity to heal. I hope that your experience has been validated. I hope that you have found a place to process the depths of your grief and to acknowledge the effects of the pain. I hope that you have found respite in companionship and the ministry of presence. I hope that you’ve been allowed to ask questions without being fed the same unhelpful, shallow answers. I hope that you have been known and loved. I am extremely grateful to have had pastors come alongside me, believe me, grieve with me, and advocate for me. I know that is not the case for everyone.

Until that is true for all people, and until Church healing outweighs Church hurt, we have work to do.