My Story

Before April 2024, the term “clergy sexual misconduct” (also referred to as adult clergy sexual abuse) was unknown to me but now it fills every aspect of my life - it has infiltrated my mind, my marriage, my family, my career, and my relationships. This term has uprooted us from a community that breathed life into our family and a church that employed both my husband and myself at various points in our careers. This term has annihilated the innocence of not only myself, but my husband and four children. I never would have chosen to have this term associated with my story, but now that it is, I wish to bring awareness to it.

Clergy sexual misconduct is one of the most confusing, isolating, depressing, reality altering, faith questioning, and darkest experiences I have ever been through. Our local church, the place that once was a refuge and comfort, turned into a minefield with unseen hazards at almost every turn. I felt as though in a matter of months, I went from dutiful women’s ministry coordinator to public enemy number one in the minds of some. If others didn’t see me as a threat, they saw me as someone they didn’t know how to handle, so they simply avoided me and pretended nothing happened. Then there were the handful of people who saw my anguish and despair, probably recognizing it from their own personal battles with adversity, and jumped in the pit with me. They placed their own comforts and fears aside and allowed God to show me true compassion and love through them. I will be forever thankful to those people - the ones who actually listened to us, sought us out, cried with us, comforted us, checked in on us, educated us, counseled us, prayed for us, stood up for us, kept us in check, spoke truth to us, and were simply there. 

In a podcast, Anna Chadwick, a survivor of adult clergy sexual abuse, stated that “trauma is the absence of an empathetic witness in the face of annihilation.” Trauma was occurring, there were lots of witnesses to the aftermath, but the empathetic witnesses were the ones who kept us from drowning in despair. Those witnesses were the hands and feet of Jesus. 

Some of the most empathetic witnesses were the ones who had gone through trauma themselves. Women began to share their personal stories of abuse of all forms with me. These women trusted me and allowed me to peek into their darkest moments, because they now knew that I somewhat understood. I had joined a club that I never would have chosen to be a part of. This club was much bigger than I realized and its members were some of the strongest, bravest, and wisest women I have ever known. I began to wonder how I had made it to thirty six without being inappropriately touched, harassed, abused, or molested? Was this the world that I lived in and was raising my daughter in?

The more stories I heard and read about, the more I realized I needed to keep fighting. I considered myself one of the “lucky” ones. I had a supportive husband and family, I had friends in my corner willing to stand with me, I had people who believed me, I had the ability to resign from my job and get away from the abuse, I had the privilege of being able to tell my story, when so many do not. But with all of these advantages, I still was manipulated, silenced, blamed, shamed, pushed aside, forgotten, gaslit, and betrayed. I believe some did this on purpose while most did this out of complete ignorance and unpreparedness. My story, like so many others, has been taken from me, twisted, told by others, and attempted to be swept under the rug, but I refuse to let that happen anymore. 

I want to share my story to encourage others to share their experiences, to point them to hope and healing, to let others know they are not alone or crazy, to shed light on clergy sexual misconduct and unhealthy church leadership, and to equip people with information so they can make informed decisions themselves. So here is my story - my messy, broken, unfinished, incomplete story of my experience with clergy sexual misconduct and the aftermath that followed. Bare with me, it’s a long one, because there are so many nuances in the details and because of the complexity of these issues. I share all of this not to bring condemnation upon others, but to bring to light what often thrives in the dark - secrecy, manipulation, pride, arrogance, and abuse.

THE INCIDENT

On Tuesday evening, April 23rd, 2024, I was inappropriately touched by my lead pastor. I was at a church leader conference in Dallas, Texas and our shepherding team, which included nine male pastors and two female coordinators, were hanging out at the hotel. Some of the guys found a table that was on the second floor, but still in the common area. This placement was strategic, because it allowed some of the pastors to drink from the two large containers of alcohol they had brought from home and not have to buy the “overpriced” hotel bar drinks on the first floor. 

NOTE: This was a solution to an issue that arose at the same hotel the previous year of May 2023. My female coworker and I were invited, along with all of the other male pastors, to come to one of their hotel rooms to hang out and so they could drink their alcohol. We kindly refused to come to the room, because we thought it was inappropriate to be with married men in a hotel room without anyone’s spouses there. Some of the pastors agreed with our stance and stayed in the lobby with us, while others stayed in the hotel room to drink. I remember thinking it was odd, and I was honestly a little hurt that some preferred to drink in a hotel room rather than enjoy time as a full team together. Back to April 2024…

The lead pastor joined us and sat next to me at the end of the table. He proceeded to ask me if I wanted to try his alcohol. I stated that I didn’t want to drink, but he persisted and asked if I wanted to drink 2-3 more times. I continued to refuse. He then asked if I was pregnant and if that was the reason I wasn’t drinking. Feeling a little frustrated at his intrusiveness, seeing as I had just facilitated a women’s panel on infertility and pregnancy loss, I told him I was indeed not pregnant and that he shouldn’t ask women that. He then proceeded to poke me on the side of my thigh under the table as he made jokes with the other pastors, kind of like a “look what I’m about to say” kind of gesture. This all seemed somewhat normal because I had become so accustomed to his touchy nature. 

A few minutes later, he grabbed my left arm with both of his hands and pulled me in close. He then proceeded to tell me, in a close whisper, about how much he liked having me on his staff and how wonderful I was at my job. Kind words, but an inappropriate way of expressing them. I distinctly remember feeling like I was back in high school talking with a drunk friend that was overly emotional and touchy at a party. I couldn’t really focus on what he was saying, because I was very aware that he had me by both hands and others were at the table watching this uncomfortable and inappropriate exchange. Thankfully, my female coworker noticed my discomfort and gently said “We get it, you think she’s great. Let go of her.” I felt relieved when he let go, but thought, “That’s just him, he’s always been touchy”. 

The conversations continued and then the lead pastor asked me while motioning to the empty glass in front of me, “What if this had something in it and spilled in your lap?” I remember being confused by the question and before I realized it, he pretended that liquid spilled down my front and let his hand drag along my clothed body from my belly button down to my vagina. Again, there was no liquid in the cup, nothing actually spilt on me. I froze. My heart raced. Every muscle in my body tensed as I grabbed the sides of my chair with my hands trying to stabilize myself. Questions rattled off in my head as my mind tried to make sense of this violation. What had just happened? Why did he just touch me like that? Could it have been accidental? If so, why was he not embarrassed and apologizing? Was he drunk? Did he purposely do that? Why? Why did my boss, my lead pastor, my mentor, my counselor, the man who officiated my wedding, the man who dedicated my children, the man who taught me so many things about Jesus, just touch me like that? 

After my momentary frozen state, I pretended like nothing happened. Maybe if I didn’t act on it, that meant it didn’t happen - I’m not sure. I have realized through counseling that I “fawn” in moments of trauma. This is what I was doing without knowing it at the time and continued to do for some time. I stayed seated next to the lead pastor who had just touched me inappropriately under the very table that our fellow coworkers were gathered around. I stayed and talked and laughed with everyone for about an hour, trying to push what had just happened to me out of my brain and lock it away where I didn’t have to deal with it. 

Once I got up to the room with the other female coordinator, I quickly told her that something weird had happened downstairs. She said “Yeah, when he grabbed your arm. I told him to stop.” I replied that “no that wasn’t it, he actually touched me in my crotch.” I then followed with “it was probably an accident, no big deal.” I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t compute how two things could be true. How could that man be who I knew him to be and someone who would touch me inappropriately? I wanted to continue to live in my bubble where everything was black and white and made perfect sense. I didn’t want to face the gray and confusing world of people not being who I thought they were. I told my coworker again that it was no big deal and put my earpods in to watch a show on my phone so I didn’t have to deal with this new reality. 

The next morning I dissociated and went about my day as usual. Smiling, laughing, and enjoying small talk with my coworkers as we finished our last day of the conference. I was so relieved that my husband was coming to pick me up and that I didn’t have to ride home with any of these people and keep up the facade. Once I was in the car with my husband, I explained to him what happened. He was furious and I didn’t quite understand why. I reassured him that it was most likely a misunderstanding or an accident. He explained to me that men don’t accidentally touch women like that. There really wasn’t a good reason we could come up with. He was either drunk and didn’t realize; he did it by accident and was too embarrassed to say sorry; or he did it on purpose. Could this touch have been a way to see what he could get away with? Was it a way for him to toe the line? Did he get a high from pushing boundaries and seeing how far he could go? 

We knew we had to say something. We knew what he did didn’t feel right. It took a few days to figure out who to tell. As the women’s ministry coordinator at our church, I held the highest female staff leadership role in our church. There was no woman to go to above me, so I knew it would probably be a man I would have to talk to about this. I didn’t want to involve any of the congregation, so those women were not an option in my mind either. I was still wanting to protect my lead pastor from any rumors in case I had this wrong - again, remember the fawn response. There were no policies about this, and the church didn’t have a HR department, so I didn’t have any idea who to turn to. The church I worked for was also an independent church, so there was no denomination or affiliation that we were required to report to or could reach out to for guidance. I did confide in one friend in those first few days, and she simply listened and tried to help me decide who to tell. She patiently allowed me to process and checked in on me often throughout this ordeal. She was an empathetic witness. My husband and I landed on telling the executive pastor about what had happened. He was the closest to HR in my brain and was considered my other boss. I called him Friday, April 26th, three days after the incident. 

THE AFTERMATH

The choice that the lead pastor made to place his hand down the front of my body set into motion a wave of events that swept up so many people with it. The ripple effect of that incident devastated so many lives in our little community. I am going to try to explain the complexities and brokenness that I dealt with and saw, but I know there are far more than what I am about to tell you. 

What followed in the next four months was something I was completely unprepared for and never saw coming. My first assumption was that I would tell the executive pastor what happened to me, he would talk with the lead pastor, and then there would be some completely legitimate explanation as to why he touched me, followed by a profuse apology. This assumption was while I was still in denial about my lead pastor’s current state of mind. The second assumption was that when I told the executive pastor what happened, he would follow a plan to address it and the lead pastor would voluntarily or be made to take a sabbatical to address his mental health and other issues. 

Remember earlier when I said my innocence was annihilated? This is where it began to be shredded. These men had decades of experience at multiple churches and businesses. I thought people in leadership positions were supposed to be better. I thought they knew more about this stuff, had plans in place, and cared more about the victim than about self-protection and the image of the church. Did I have certain people on pedestals? Yes, I unfortunately did. In the same vein though, the Bible does call church leaders to a higher standard. I am still processing how to balance the fact that people need to be accountable for their mistakes, while also giving them grace. 

This aftermath is often referred to as the second wound in the world of clergy sexual misconduct. I fully believe that this whole story could have ended completely differently if a few things had been handled better. First, if the leadership, myself included, were properly educated on respect in the workplace and clergy sexual misconduct, with policy and procedures already in place. Secondly, if the individuals who were involved in the aftermath took full ownership for what they did, knew how to formulate an actual apology (not “I’m sorry, BUT”), and actively sought to get help. Unfortunately, it seems in a lot of these cases that the abuser and the church get their notes from the same book. In talking with other adult clergy sexual abuse survivors, I discovered that so many of our stories were eerily similar in the ways the abuser groomed us and how the church leadership poorly responded. This website explains it well:

Clergy Sexual Misconduct - Information and Resources - Help for Clergy Abuse Victims, Information Service, Church Resources for Abuse

Here is how the next four months played out…

As I explained my experience to the executive pastor over the phone, he stated, “I could tell you were uncomfortable at the table that night.” I remember feeling validated by that comment, but also frustrated that he didn’t say something at the time when he noticed my discomfort. Why don’t we say things in the moment when people are in need of our advocacy? Why do we tend to stay silent and prefer to make the group or ourselves comfortable instead of the individual in need?

A meeting was set up by the executive pastor for him, the lead pastor, and myself to discuss the situation. This was not my idea to have this meeting. It was an option the executive pastor presented to me on the phone and at the time it felt like the quickest way to address the situation, allowing me to share what happened directly rather than having someone else speak on my behalf. The executive pastor did not give me the option to talk with the elders or discuss this with a woman present. In a last minute decision, I had my sister join the meeting in order to have a female presence in the room and have an extra set of ears. I was so thankful to have her there. She didn’t just let me be the only female in that room - she was an empathetic witness. Since that day, she has been one of my biggest champions. She has allowed me to come to my own realizations, while knowing full well the gravity of the situation. 

On Monday, April 29th, I described to the lead pastor and executive pastor what happened that night in detail, the environment I had been a part of for the past three years as a woman on staff, and then suggested what needed to be done about all of this. Once I finished, the lead pastor stayed very calm and collected. He did not seem surprised by my allegations about him. He stated several times, “I am so grieved.” He then began to defend himself and explain the actions and behaviors I had mentioned. 

The lead pastor stated that “I see you as a daughter and that’s why I treat you the way I do. I know you didn’t ask for me to be a parental figure to you, but I just do it sometimes.” This is inappropriate. I never asked him to be a father figure to me and a boss should never assume that role. 

He then explained that he gives “everyone massages,” not just me. Again another inappropriate workplace behavior. The lead pastor was speaking truthfully, he did in fact give shoulder rubs to many women and men. There are women reading this that probably have been recipients of those massages and preferred not to be, I know some of them. This tactic he deployed is a common defense for abusers and a form of gaslighting. He downplayed the inappropriateness of his actions by doing that inappropriate action to many people. His defense being, if the action is inappropriate why then do so many people allow it? Victims are made to feel special, but then when that is pointed out, the abusers can quickly place the victim in a category with everyone else. 

Lastly, the lead pastor gave excuses for the alcohol. He stated that he believes “alcohol brings people together,” that he brought it because “some of the pastors might not want to buy expensive drinks from the bar,” and that they need to be able to “let loose” sometimes.

NOTE: This was an interesting perspective, because eight months prior to this incident many leaders at the church had a completely different view of alcohol. A group of women, some who volunteered at the church in various roles, had gone to my parent’s lake house to celebrate a friend’s 30th birthday. Some of the ladies drank alcohol that weekend. Although I am not one to drink, I personally don’t mind people responsibly consuming alcohol in the right setting. I believed this weekend birthday party to be an appropriate and safe setting. This was not a church or work event and we were not in mixed company with spouses. Despite this not being church related, many of the women at this party were reprimanded by some of the church leaders within days of the event happening. Why were some church leaders so swift to address this when it was only women drinking at a non-church event? Why was alcohol considered not appropriate at that event, but completely acceptable at the church leader retreat with mixed company? Why was the lake weekend brought to the attention of the other church leaders, but a lead pastor drinking and touching someone inappropriately was not? Where was the consistency? The hypocrisy baffled me. Back to the meeting…

Both pastors proceeded to ask me what an “appropriate” way was to touch a woman. I stated that they needed to educate themselves and that it was not part of my job, as the victim, to teach them. I stated that they could possibly give side hugs, but that the lead pastor needed to stop massaging people and giving frontal hugs. I also told them that they needed to get some policy and procedures about this written and in place pronto. I remember feeling proud of myself for facing my bosses and telling one of them he touched me inappropriately. I was standing up for myself and making a positive needed change for this church. I thought I was helping. I thought I was being kind enough to show them what wasn’t appropriate. The pastors said they’d work on all of this and the meeting was over. I think because I was so focused on the fact that I was able to confront my lead pastor about what he did to me, that I didn’t realize he never addressed the fact that he touched me, he glided right over that part. 

The next four days felt like a lifetime. I felt so awkward in the office. I sat at the opposite side of the table from the lead pastor at meetings and I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was what they were going to do about this situation. Friday morning the executive pastor texted to see if my husband and I could come meet him over the weekend at the office. I said we could be there that afternoon. I was dying to hear what was being done. We got to the office and one of the elders was in the office waiting with him. This was May 3rd. We walked in and the executive pastor said that this elder was here because he wanted to apologize for the way he commented about my looks at the one and only elder meeting I had ever been a part of earlier that year. The elder said, “I’m sorry I said ‘the room was going to get a lot less pretty now that you’re leaving’, that was just a joke about how ugly all us men are.” Even though it was a poor apology, I still thanked him for it. At this point, I had already made my thoughts known about elders and staff commenting on women’s looks and it hadn’t seemed to resonate with this one. 

NOTE: I’ll take this time to share a little bit about what it was like to be a woman on staff at that church. Most of the female staff were administrative assistants prior to my hiring. There had been one other women’s ministry coordinator type job a few years before me and that had been filled by a pastor’s wife. I am not sure how similar our roles were, but I believe I was the first woman to be a part of the weekly pastoral meetings, (changed to “shepherding meetings”, because I was not a pastor) as well as the first woman to listen and give feedback in the weekly sermon run throughs. There were a couple of other women who held part time coordinator jobs at the church that were employed around the same time as myself. Those women worked specifically with the worship, youth, or college ministries and were unable to attend the weekly meetings most of the time. I also was a part of a committee that involved the elders, pastors, and a handful of women to review the church’s stance on women in ministry roles. I believe this was the first time women were able to be a part of a doctrinal review committee. The women on the committee were there to provide insight and experiential knowledge, but the final decision was still left up to the elders, who were all men. 

All this to say, I was the only female in most of the weekly meetings and I was around the elders more than usual because of the women in ministry meetings. There was definitely a “boys club” vibe at the church. There were inappropriate jokes made, most very innocent, and I would laugh and even join in at times. I so badly wanted women to have a seat at the table, so I overlooked things to maintain my seat in the room. Occasionally though there were jokes or comments about my looks. I would try to shrug them off. For example, one pastor asked “where my pants had gone” when I wore a shirt dress to work. Nothing horrible, just an example of the atmosphere. (I’d like to note he did apologize later for the comment.) Several elders would say things like “oh, I get to sit next to the pretty one” or things of that nature at the women in ministry meetings. Again, nothing horrible. I don’t think they were being malicious. Perhaps just generational differences and simply the fact that they didn’t know what else to say, so they commented about my looks. This again just attributes to the dated, boys club atmosphere. 

In August of 2022, a comment finally made me speak up. One elder, in front of most of the committee, mentioned I looked “hot” getting out of my husband’s truck in the parking lot. The conversation continued for a few minutes and I was very embarrassed. These men shouldn’t be commenting on anyone’s looks and I didn’t want other women thinking their value came from their appearance. Instead these men should be commenting on their fellow committee members' God given skills and wisdom. I told the staff the next week about how uncomfortable I was and how this type of language should stop. The elder that made the “hot” comment was told. He profusely apologized and never made another comment about my looks. Unfortunately, some of the other men didn’t seem to get the message and the comments occasionally continued. Would this type of “boys club” behavior happen in an egalitarian church? Would this type of behavior happen if there were more women involved in leadership positions at churches? Would this behavior happen if there wasn’t such an imbalance of power between men and women at this church? If I didn’t say something, who would? Back to the May 3rd meeting…

After the elder’s poor apology, the executive pastor told my husband and me that he talked with the church’s insurance company and asked if we wanted to press charges. This caught me off guard because I was still confused about why the lead pastor even touched me in the first place. I still didn’t understand if it was an accident or not. I didn’t want to overreact and jump to conclusions - I didn’t want to come across as an overly dramatic woman. I told him no, I didn’t want to press charges. I wasn’t looking for compensation, just a genuine apology and understanding. He then asked if I wanted to tell the elders. I kept saying, “I don’t know what I am supposed to do in this situation - what are y’all supposed to do?” The executive pastor stated that this was “uncharted territory for him.” I still thought this lead pastor just made a mistake and I didn’t want to get him into trouble, so I said, “No, y’all don’t have to tell the elders if that’s what's best, but just please get this taken care of.” I knew policy change meant the elders would have to get involved, so I assumed they would be told at one point. I did not say they couldn’t tell anyone. I just remember being so overwhelmed that they were asking me what I wanted to do. I just wished so badly they had a plan in place. 

In one last ditch effort to gain clarity, I stated to the executive pastor, “If I’m going to continue to work here, I need to know why the lead pastor touched my vagina.” The executive pastor said let’s have another meeting Monday, you, me, and the lead pastor, and figure that out. The elder, who was less than five feet from me, didn’t seem phased or bothered by the jarring statement I just made about my boss. We all just stood up and left the meeting. I believe the elder asked us about the weather on the way out. Neither of these leaders seemed that concerned or affected by the fact that I had been touched by the lead pastor. 

The leaders asking me to make this decision was like an adult asking a child, who had severely broken her arm, if she wanted to go to the hospital. That child would have been so scared and would need the adult, someone with wisdom and understanding, to care for the child and get the help she really needed. Like that child, I didn’t know what to do or how to handle what had happened to me; I was still in complete shock. I needed the “adults,” my bosses with years of leadership experience, to say, “No kid, we need to go to the hospital.” I wanted them to have a plan or to tell the right people who could come up with a plan. Instead, these “adults” seemed relieved that they didn’t have to bother taking the kid to the hospital. They seemed relieved I wasn’t making a bigger fuss. I felt utterly alone and confused.  

Monday, May 6th, I met with the executive pastor and lead pastor. This marks the second time I was placed in a meeting with the man who touched me less than two weeks prior. I looked at my boss, the lead pastor, and said, “Why did you touch my crotch?” He looked at me seemingly unphased and stated that he “didn’t recall” touching me. He went on to state that he “remembered everything up until that moment and everything after,” but again “didn’t recall touching me.” He followed quickly with the fact that he “wasn’t drunk either.” He then said, “It really hurt my feelings that in the previous meeting you compared me to a drunk sixteen year old girl when I was holding your arm and saying nice things to you.” I was shocked! He conveniently couldn’t remember, but he had the audacity to tell me that I hurt his feelings just moments prior to that! But guess what? I said I was sorry. I apologized to the man who inappropriately touched me. Who was this man? I did not recognize him. This man was so calculated, so good with words, and so able to switch the script. 

This technique he so adequately knew how to utilize has a name because of how often abusers use it. It is called DARVO, which stands for “Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender. It is a psychological manipulation tactic used by perpetrators of sexual misconduct to deflect blame and responsibility. This is abuse of power. 

The pastors told me they were going to talk with the other pastors in a meeting that afternoon and I was not invited. I was told later that the lead pastor chastised the other pastors for their inappropriate jokes. He placed the blame on them. This also is a technique of perpetrators of sexual misconduct. 

The next two weeks I was out of the office a lot. I had a family vacation, end of school parties for my kids, and one child sick the whole last week of school. I remember feeling so relieved to not be in the office. It was during that time that I finally gave myself permission to think about quitting. I felt like such a failure to quit. My lead pastor had specifically chosen me for the job - this is another common thread in many of these stories of clergy sexual misconduct. Leadership had rewritten the job description specifically to meet my needs as a mom of four. I felt like I was letting the women of the church down by not fighting harder, but I couldn’t be up there anymore. My eyes were becoming open to all the issues that went beyond that one incident. I was starting to put the pieces together. 

On May 22nd, I called the lead pastor and executive pastor separately and let them know I was resigning. I convinced myself that I was just overwhelmed in general and that’s why I was quitting. I didn’t feel like I could say that it was because my lead pastor touched me, because it had been a month since the incident and still no one seemed to be alarmed. The elder who knew had never reached back out to me and neither pastor had asked me about it for two weeks. 

The phone conversation of my resignation with the lead pastor was cold and quick. He asked me, “Is it because of me?” and I tiptoed around the question, trying not to make him feel bad, again a fawning trauma response. He then asked when my last day was and that was it. We had barely looked at each other, much less spoken in the past two weeks. Our relationship had done a complete one-eighty. I believe I was given the silent treatment for going against him - yet another common thread. 

NOTE: I should mention here what our relationship looked like previous to when I accused him of inappropriately touching me. We had a rapport. We would tease and joke with each other. He counseled me at various times throughout my adulthood and knew intimate things about my life and relationships. I thought of him as a mentor, pastor, friend, and coworker. Because he was a pastor, I assumed he had my best interest at heart; I assumed he was safe. Because he was a pastor, I gave him a pass on things I wouldn’t have otherwise given to men. The lead pastor had been massaging my shoulders and giving me big frontal bear hugs since I was an eighteen year old in his college ministry. I didn’t like those massages, they always felt awkward to me. I vividly remember tightening up my shoulders as I shrugged them up towards my ears. I would smile and politely tell him, “Oh, I’m not a touchy person” or “I’m good” as I wiggled out of his grip. No other man gave me massages like that, but I never said anything because it was “normal” and he was a pastor. 

He also had a tagline for me when I would come into or leave the office, “number twenty-five on the soccer field, number three on the enneagram, and number one in my heart.” I was in fact number twenty-five on my collegiate soccer team. We both were threes on the enneagram chart. But why the “number one in my heart”? Again, another oddity I gave him a pass on. Again, no other man, besides my husband, said stuff like that to me. This was the lead pastor though; he often flattered me and gave me encouragement. I liked that he thought I was good at what I did and that he liked me as a person. I wanted his approval, and I think he knew that. This type of behavior in clergy sexual misconduct is called love bombing. I knew it was odd how he behaved and talked to me sometimes, but because it was my lead pastor, I let my guard down and ignored the red flags. We all did. Back to May 22nd…

The day I notified my bosses of my resignation, I also called one of the women who I had taught with for years and let her know I was stepping down. She asked why and I rambled off my excuse of being overwhelmed. She pushed a little further, asking if I was truly okay and before I knew it, I told her everything. I remember telling her, “It’s okay though,” and she, as an insightful, wise woman, saw past my defense and knew it was in fact not okay. She completely validated my feelings; she was an empathetic witness. After listening, she asked if she could tell her husband who was an elder. I said of course, honestly surprised he didn’t know. She called back the next day and asked if I would be willing to tell my story to her, her husband, and another elder and his wife. They wanted to hear what happened from my mouth. I remember feeling so relieved that I would be telling people - people I trusted, people who cared, people who could make change happen, people who understood the magnitude of this problem. 

I had my exit interview the first week of June, again it was my two bosses and myself, one of them being the one who touched me. The first fifteen minutes was the two of them complaining about what to do when people left the staff because we had a decent amount of turnover that year. They debated, in front of me, if everyone needed a party and a cake or if a card would suffice. I remember saying, out of complete disgust and awkwardness, that they didn’t need to do anything for me. They asked me a few questions and the lead pastor kept looking at his watch and at the door and stated, “We need to hurry this up, because I have a meeting.” I was not their priority; I was something to be checked off their list - an inconvenience. This was my last interaction with the lead pastor. I have not heard a word from him since that week.

To add some dark humor to the whole situation, I was accepted into Dallas Theological Seminary the day I packed up my office and left that church. Two of my references were the executive pastor and the lead pastor. The man who violated my body was the same man who wrote a recommendation for me. 

The following week, on June 13th, my husband and I sat down to dinner with the two elders and their wives. I recounted the entire story to them. They listened, asked questions, and seemed to understand the severity of the situation. They gave us their thoughts and observations of the lead pastor’s actions and mental health over the past six months and we all agreed he needed help. They asked if I would be willing to talk with the entire elder board and share my story. I immediately said yes. I wanted to share what had happened to me so that I could better-help the church’s leadership. I could help point out blind spots and the church could be a safe, healthy place. I anxiously awaited to hear when I would get to approach the elders. I was told that I would be able to attend the next elder meeting, which would be June 24th. Now looking back, I am surprised that there wasn’t more urgency in calling an elder meeting. At this point, June 13th, at least three elders and two pastors knew I had been touched by the lead pastor. Despite that, he was still preaching and leading the church. The lead pastor never thought to take a step back on his own accord and own up to any of his issues. The leadership didn’t think to ask him to take a pause as they figured things out. Is this healthy leadership? Where was the urgency in taking care of this, when other issues required emergency elder meetings? Why didn’t they seek out help from professionals at this point or educate themselves on how to handle a situation like this?

On June 21st, the elder who first heard about the incident back on May 3rd called my husband on the phone. When I realized who was on the call I asked him to put it on speaker phone. What I heard in the next few minutes absolutely gutted me, while simultaneously filling me with anger. The elder started by saying, “I thought we handled this.” It had been over six weeks since I sat in an office with him and nothing had been done except scolding the younger pastors for inappropriate jokes. No policies had been set in place, no education had been done, no accountability, nothing, but he thought it had been “handled.” If that wasn’t bad enough, he asked us if we had been “coerced” into talking with the elders. Not only was this a dismissal of our intellect, but worse, it brought into question the integrity of two of his fellow elders and their wives. We stated we had not been coerced and that we very much wanted to tell our story to the elder board. Lastly, he stated to my husband that he didn’t know what to do with me. That he heard “Amy doesn’t even want people to side hug her.” I was the issue. I was making them uncomfortable. I was again the inconvenience. My husband calmly stated again that we would like to address the entire elder board and hung up. I was irate. How had any of this been handled? Why was I being questioned, gaslit, and shamed? 

On Sunday, June 23rd, one day before the elder meeting we were scheduled to attend - the meeting I had been preparing for and getting my mind ready for, the meeting that could really make a difference - I was notified that I was no longer allowed to come to the meeting. I was told by one of the elders that he would be sharing my story. It was a gut punch. A man, who wasn’t there, was going to share my story of me being touched by another man to a bunch of men. I was devastated, but didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had fought so hard. It had been two months since the incident and I was still unable to share my story or even be allowed to address the elders as a whole. I was a female employee touched by my boss and they didn’t want to hear the story from me. I was putting together more pieces. There were systematic failures happening at this church and this incident was starting to expose them all. 

On Monday, June 24th, the elder meeting (that I was not allowed to attend) took place. A dear friend, who is so deeply gifted in mercy, walked with me around my neighborhood as the meeting took place. She knew the sorrow I felt of not being able to share my story with these men. She simply showed up and was there as a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. She was an empathetic witness. 

After the meeting, a few elders texted and stated how sorry they were for what happened to me. They reassured me that this would be handled. The following day - not 24 hours after they heard I had been touched by the lead pastor - I received a message from an elder that absolutely broke me. The text started with how grateful they were for me and how “they heard well and your story touched us with the power of Jesus Christ,” then continued with other encouragement. But the last part stated, “We remain confident in the lead pastor, but a process of shepherding him will now begin. Those steps we take may not be shared with you as we move into his life to support him better. But now these multiple steps will be taken to love and support him but our focus as always remains the family of our local church.” 

They remained confident in the man who touched me? The shepherding process will now begin? What had they been doing before that, not shepherding or checking in on him? Why was I not allowed to know those steps? Why the secrecy? What in the world was happening?

That week I barely slept. Most nights I woke up around 2:00 am and would cry until 4:00 am. My husband would hold me as I sobbed uncontrollably. I had never been this broken, this vulnerable, this needy. My husband was my rock throughout this entire process. I am astonished that he was able to take in all my pain and keep the anger from completely consuming him as we were faced with the possibility that our lead pastor had groomed me and the church didn’t seem to care. Blayne was the ultimate empathetic witness. When I rambled on for hours trying to make sense of every little detail, he would listen and engage. When I needed to vent, scream, or cry, he would welcome any emotion without feeling the need to fix it. When I needed to take time for myself but felt guilty, he would reassure me and take care of our four kids. He stood by me, he stood up for me, and he helped stand me up when I couldn’t stand anymore. I will never forget the way my husband handled this impossible situation. 

My kids could see the sadness and brokenness I so desperately tried to hide from them. They heard whispers of conversations and sensed the tension. They asked why we hadn’t been to church and said they missed their friends. They grew up in that church. It was a second home to them; it was a comfort. I had to tell my children the hard truth that I couldn't even understand myself. I was forced to tell them that a person they knew and respected had done a bad thing to their mom. I was forced to explain to them that people don’t always do what we expect them to do. Our whole world had been turned upside down. I couldn’t function. My house was a wreck. My mind was a wreck. I became a shell of myself. How could these men remain confident in a man that violates a woman? How could these men not see all the other red flags? How could these men not feel the need to hear the story first hand from me?

At this point, I had opened up to a few of my friends about what was going on, telling them tidbits, but not everything. I started to share more with some out of pure frustration about the situation and genuine fear that this church was not going to do anything about this. I fully believed that the elders and those two pastors were going to keep all of this to themselves. I was at my wits end and depleted. I didn’t know where else to turn. 

That same week, I was at Chuck E. Cheese with a friend, letting our kids play. She knew nothing of the situation. I opened up to her about what happened in April and how the last two months had been excruciating. She sat there listening to the full story. She didn’t judge, think of what was best for her in this situation, or choose to not get involved. She knew there was injustice happening and stepped in. She was yet another empathetic witness to pain. This friend blew life back into me when I was at my lowest point. A random coffee date led to another couple coming alongside us. The Lord seemed to be working and placing people strategically in our path. That Tuesday night on June 25th, us three couples discussed and prayed about how to address the elders. I had been invited to the next elders meeting to answer some questions, but we decided instead that I was going to tell them my story from my own mouth. I was going to, in detail, share all the ins and outs of my whole experience of working at that church. We also asked if these two couples could come with us because we wanted people there who had our best interest at heart. The elders had to “vote” on the couples being able to come, and in the end they “allowed” it.

I cannot express in words the impact these couples made on my life by standing with my husband and me through this. They selflessly chose to step into the mess and since that day, have had targets painted on their backs for choosing to do the right thing in supporting us in a time of need. We were not against the church or the leadership. We simply wanted to bring them information, highlight mistakes, and help be part of the solution to making this church healthier. Unfortunately, when there is unhealth in parts of leadership, criticism can be seen as an attack as opposed to constructive and helpful. 

On Thursday, June 27th, in preparation for the meeting, I sent the elders articles to help better explain what I had been through and how the leadership had responded. With clergy sexual misconduct, it’s usually the same story, just different people and places. My husband followed up my email with his own. He had been respectful and patient for two months with these leaders, but his patience was running very low. He called out the elder who had known about the incident since May 3rd and done nothing. He explained to the elders that they were going to hear my story and it would not be pleasant. He demanded action. 

A few hours after receiving the email, the same elder who had been in the May 3rd meeting and who had already called us six days prior, called us yet again. My husband still didn’t have this elder’s number in his phone and answered the unknown call. The second my husband realized who it was, he put it on speaker again and I began recording the conversation. This was who I was now. An animal backed into a corner. I have never recorded a conversation in my life and now to keep my sanity, I wanted to remember what this elder said. 

The conversation included this… 

ELDER: “You have to know that our concern is Jesus Christ and glorifying Him and Jesus Christ is not glorified in shuffling things under the rug and hiding things.”

MY HUSBAND: “So what actions are y’all taking then?” (to show that y’all aren’t shuffling things under the rug)

ELDER: “Well, we are not at liberty to frankly discuss how we are going to deal with the lead pastor until we decide how we are going to deal with him.”

MY HUSBAND: “So how does sexual abuse/assualt not get you at minimum suspended or at most fired?... I don’t understand how a group of men who have been following Christ for so long don’t understand how big of a deal this is. It at least doesn’t feel like y’all do.”

ELDER: “And again please extend us a little bit of grace in that we’ve only dealt with this issue for four days now.”

MY HUSBAND: “No, we’ve been giving you grace for two months and you’ve known about it for six weeks.”

ELDER: “You can blame me all you want.”

MY HUSBAND: “I just blame you for not going to the rest of the elders quicker on your own accord.”

ELDER: “If I had read the information (the two articles I sent to the elders earlier that day) Amy sent before then yes, I should have (gone to the entire elder board). But we get prayer requests from people that say we would like to keep this off the prayer list and we pray for those people and it is not shared with the general church what the prayer request is, so we honor the wishes of the people. And so you’re saying we asked a woman that has been traumatized nine days after the event what she wants to do and she doesn’t know and I understand that, but at some point she did know what she wanted to do and you never turned around and called me.”

MY HUSBAND: “Wait… you’re blaming us for this?”

ELDER: “no, no”

MY HUSBAND: “You’ve never said a word about it and the only people who reached out to us again were the other two elders.”

This elder then continued to tell us that we all go way back and that he “can’t share his heart with us in a group meeting.” We asked what that meant and he stated that the other people wouldn’t understand the context of his heart. We were very confused. 

ELDER: “As you said it sounds like I’m blaming you and I didn’t want to do that in front of others.”

MY HUSBAND: “Yeah, I don’t want you to do it at all.”

ELDER: “Well, uh, you understand.”

I then proceeded to lose my patience and yell that we don’t understand, that this call is done, and we will talk with him at the elder meeting in front of everyone else. 

The audacity this man had to call us not once, but twice and reach out on his own volition astounded me. But here’s the thing, I don’t think he was trying to be malicious. I think he was so wrapped up in self protection and protecting the image of the church that he didn’t even realize that he was attacking the victim. This is a textbook response. This is toxic church culture and spiritual abuse. 

I wasn’t sure how many more hits I could take from certain people in this church leadership. There were a few people on staff and those two elders who tried their best to vouch for us. But it’s hard to fight against a system you’re within. I appreciated their efforts, but at the same time their defenses were up. Lines that I didn’t want were being drawn. It felt as though anyone who shared parts of my story and brought to light the deficiencies of the church was seen as an enemy. What type of church leadership can’t handle correction? Why were we seen as the enemies and not the victims? 

On June 28th, I was informed that the decision had been made that day to not allow the lead pastor to preach on Sunday, June 30th, as he had been scheduled. I believe that they only made this decision as more people started to ask questions and they realized the story was getting out beyond their control. It had been two months since I had told the executive pastor what happened to me. It had been seven weeks since an elder knew what happened to me. Other people in leadership knew parts, if not most, of what had transpired and no one had yet to suggest or implement any change in the lead pastor’s duties as a full time pastor. For two months this lead pastor was allowed to continue leading a church, as well as a staff with people full well knowing what he did. Then, once the story got out, the elders made a Friday night decision and had another pastor preach with one day to plan. What was their plan? Did they have one? Were they just going to continue to do the bare minimum in hopes that this would go away or were they actually wanting to take accountability and make change?

Finally, on July 1st, I was able to share my story with the elders of the church. Prior to the meeting that day, a staff member had wisely told the elders to “just be quiet and listen.” It seemed that a few of the pastors finally understood the severity of the situation and the need for me to be heard. 

Many people cried as I told my story, myself included. They seemed to understand as I explained that this church had inevitably broken me. They listened as we aired our frustrations with the arrogance and inaccessibility of the elder board as a unit. They seemed receptive to our recommendations as to what could be done better. These recommendations included hiring a third party investigator and having transparency and accessibility within leadership. I felt like I had finally finished running my part of the race and was handing off the baton to the people who could actually initiate policy and change. I was relieved to have finally been able to tell the decision makers of the church what truly happened to me. 

I thought the feeling of relief and accomplishment would have settled in and lasted a little longer. I thought the burden of dealing with this ordeal was mostly lifted. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that the next few months would still be a series of gut punches every time an announcement was made from the pulpit, leaving me feeling completely gaslit. I didn’t realize we would be deserted and forgotten by much of the leadership. I didn’t realize how little my help was wanted. 

On Friday, July 5th, I was told that an announcement would be made to the congregation about what had happened to me. I asked if any women had helped them prepare this statement and was told no. Once again, it was only men. I asked to read the announcement beforehand so I could be prepared for what they were going to say and was told no yet again. This was my story. I was the one touched, and some men (who seemed not to have my best interest in mind) were deciding what information of mine should or shouldn’t be shared with hundreds of people. I was told that I could not see or be given a copy of the announcement to read, but they could tell it to me over the phone. Yet again, I felt like my story was taken from me.

I listened as one of the elders slowly read what would be told to the church about my experience. It was hard for me to attempt to edit or approve something being read to me over the phone. I suggested that they say, “credible allegations of sexual misconduct”, instead of the “credible allegations of misconduct”. I remember saying that this announcement was vague, would probably be more confusing than helpful, and that I thought transparency was the better route. 

Control, power, and secrecy seem to be vital to some of these men. Where was the humility? Why couldn’t they accept help? Why didn’t they bring in someone to take the burden off and give them and the staff a chance to pause and process? Why did they have to do all this behind closed doors and on their own? Why did they take a defensive stance to the outside world, instead of being vulnerable about what was really going on? I know this was a tough situation and they were doing their best, but there are resources out there. I had given them some. Unfortunately, this has played out in so many other churches before. They could learn from other’s mistakes, instead of making the same ones. 

On Sunday, July 7th, I held my breath as I virtually watched the church service from a couch as a few friends gathered around my husband and me. An elder began to read the announcement from his phone. I didn’t catch that they stated they received the news “at the end of June” when they had read the announcement to me two days earlier. I had notified my boss, the executive pastor, at the end of April and one of the elders at the beginning of May. They made it sound like they had all just received this information. I felt like they undermined my story. There was no mention of how a woman on staff had to fight to see the elders and how she had been mistreated by her lead pastor. Secondly, there was no mention of the word “credible” or “sexual,” just “allegations of misconduct.” They didn’t make any changes I suggested. Lastly, they offered to answer questions or concerns, but then didn’t actually answer any questions or concerns. I was hoping this announcement would bring clarity, but instead it brought chaos. Imaginations began to run wild about what the lead pastor did that was attributed to his leave of absence. 

Other announcements followed that continued in the same pattern. On July 23rd, an elder informed my husband and me that the lead pastor was told he “no longer had a future at this church.” With all of the evidence of the drinking, grooming, touching, inappropriate conversations, and his lack of ownership and humility, the lead pastor was deemed not fit to lead this church anymore. They kindly gave him the option to resign. The elders turned around on Sunday, July 28th and stated simply that “earlier this week the elders received the lead pastor’s resignation.” Again, the way they stated it seemed as though the lead pastor was so humble in his resignation, when in fact I was made to believe that was not the case. Even as he was being removed from his job due to clergy sexual misconduct, his image, as well as the church’s, was still being protected. 

The most recent announcement that felt like a punch in the gut was on September 29th. The church was going to start a new series with a guest speaker, because they were in “the midst of a stormy season.” I thought, finally they are allowing at least someone outside of the staff and elders to help them. They are equipping the hurting congregation with information. The staff could take a moment to breathe and process. The elders could recollect, begin to answer questions, and be the transparent elders I so longed for them to be. But instead the recorded promotional video stated that “our lead pastor is gone, accusations and rumors have been running wild, there are so many unanswered questions.” Why are they acting like they just happened upon a storm, when in fact they helped create it? They were once again playing the victim. They could stop the rumors by simply being transparent and vulnerable and just explain what actually happened. They could answer the questions. They have seen other churches walk through this and seen that transparency is key. Instead, they suggest that others, myself and people standing up for me, are wildly spreading rumors and accusations. I was the one who brought the accusations, to put those two words (accusations and rumors) together makes it sound like my accusations are false and extreme. That I am not a reliable source. It seems like certain people are trying to villainize the victim and anyone who doesn't agree with their narrative. Intentionally or unintentionally, seeds of dissension are being sown.

The rest of that announcement on September 29th also included the executive pastor’s resignation. He was given a standing ovation and praised for his years of service. I believe he deserved that recognition and truly did give so much to that church. I do not wish to take that away from him. He did great things for that church, as did the lead pastor too. The thing that struck me though, was that he got to write his ending. He got to preserve his image. He was able to explain that he was “spiritually, emotionally, physically, and mentally depleted” and gained sympathy and support from the church. He could have used that time to admit his role in this entire situation. He could have been vulnerable about his mistakes, but instead it was another person besides the victim getting to play the victim. 

This executive pastor never reached out to me or checked in on me. I actually tried to reach out to him four months after the incident and suggested that he, one of the other pastors, my husband and me all meet to get clarification and squash any false assumptions. Less than twenty-four hours before our meeting was supposed to take place, he canceled. He refused to meet with us without an elder present at the church. He was still so self-focused that he couldn’t even apologize, much less meet with us without thinking about his own protection. I called him in late August and spoke to him over the phone to try and make amends. He was still defensive. My husband texted him that same day and the executive pastor refused to talk. The silent treatment from yet another pastor.

Where was this protection for me when I was placed in a room with him and the lead pastor who touched me? I was so hurt. This had been a pastor, friend, and coworker to both my husband and me. I truly believe he was hurting and depleted, and rightfully so. He had been betrayed by his friend, the lead pastor, and there were rumors about him as well. But why did I, as the victim, have the capacity to reach out and check on him and the rest of the staff and elders, but many of them didn’t have the same capacity for me? Why did many of them allow self-protection and fear to affect how they shepherded?

In contrast to the announcements pertaining to the executive pastor and lead pastor, I was also an employee who had resigned, but I was never given the opportunity to protect my image or write the ending of my story at that church. I had resigned and no one was ever even made aware of it outside of our staff and the women’s steering committee. I was still getting calls and texts asking about women’s ministry stuff all the way up until late July because people didn’t even know I was no longer working there. There was never any mention of the courage it took for me to step forward. There was never any credibility associated with my story. I was just simply nonexistent. The only mention of me from the pulpit was to “please pray for all parties involved.”

I’d like to stop here and zoom out, because I believe this is an important point to make and I don’t want it to be missed. From late April to mid June, when only a handful of people in leadership knew about the situation, there was a trend in how the leadership dealt with me. They placed the responsibility of making decisions and taking action on me, the victim. They seemed to have no initiative or urgency in fixing this problem. Over and over, they placed a traumatized woman with less than three years of church leadership experience at the helm of the ship. When they didn’t want to make the hard call, they placed it on me. Perhaps if the weight of the decisions were on my shoulders, they didn’t have to take responsibility for any fall out? 

This has allowed some of the leadership to hide behind my decisions in order to escape blame and responsibility. Instead of comforting, equipping, and guiding me through these decisions, they backed away and protected themselves from any responsibility. When people ask why the elder didn’t tell the rest of the elders for six weeks, he points at me and says, “She said not to.” When people ask why the executive pastor put me in three meetings with the lead pastor that touched me, he points at me and says, “She said I could.” They have used their positions of power to deflect blame and manipulate my words, instead of protecting me. When did self-protection become more important than protecting the flock? When Jesus saw corruption what did he do? 

The trend shifted though when people started to hear about what was going on and the story was getting out beyond the leadership’s control. From mid-June and on, I was no longer involved in the decisions. They wanted to maintain a tight grip on the narrative they were putting out. I was no longer being forced to make decisions while in a traumatic state, instead I was cast aside and silenced in different ways. Whatever was best for the church’s image. 

On Monday, September 9th the church finally hired a third-party investigator to get involved. This was one of our requests from the July 1st meeting. I have been a willing participant in this process. September 20th was when I first spoke with the investigator. I asked her lots of questions to gain clarity in this process. One of the questions was if I could get a copy of the report at the end of the investigation. She stated that this was a common request and shouldn’t be a problem. The next week I began my interview. We had to stop after two and half hours and we were going to resume the following week. I asked her again if I could get a copy and if she could get that confirmation in written form from the elders. It is now mid-October that I am writing this, and I have yet to be given that confirmation. People continue to be told, “Wait until the investigation concludes and you will have answers.” What if that’s not the case? What are their intentions with this report? Will they allow anyone to see it? Will they only share parts of it? If they are planning to share it, why is there any hesitation in the victim having a copy? 

Lastly, one of the saddest parts of this aftermath, that is still actively happening, is the division this one incident has caused. One man’s choice to cross a line, or rather several lines, caused a ripple effect throughout our community. I didn’t expect relationships to dissolve. I didn’t expect friends to disengage and withdraw. I didn’t expect to have to leave our church. I didn’t expect that the people who selflessly stood by us would have their names and reputations dragged through the mud. I didn’t expect that if people saw toxicity and vocalized it that they would be villainized. I didn’t expect that people would get so defensive and self-protective. I didn’t expect to be so misunderstood. I didn’t expect to feel so alone. I didn’t expect to be hurt so badly by fellow believers and friends. When did speaking up for truth result in fellow believers ostracizing each other? Where was all the vulnerability, humility, and ownership? I thought it would all go better. I thought we’d all do better.

As I am writing this almost six months after the incident, there are still pastors, elders, and people I considered friends who knew what happened but have never checked in on us or reached out. I say this because I don’t think people, myself included, know what to do in trauma. I tell my story because I want to highlight how hurtful inaction can be, but in contrast the smallest acts of kindness can be life-giving. When some mom friends cleaned my house and stocked my fridge, because I simply was incapable of daily tasks at that time - that was life-giving. When friends listened and didn’t mind entering into the hard conversations and just let me process out loud - that was life-giving. When a retired elder showed up at our house to simply say to my husband and me, “my wife and I love y’all, we miss y’all, and we are so sorry this happened” - that was life-giving. When a couple showed up with ice cream and all the fixings for our kids - that was life-giving. When my husband held me tight as I sobbed - that was life-giving. When people sent a simple text - that was life-giving. When my family would allow me to vent and talk for hours with them about this life changing, all consuming event - that was life-giving. When women were vulnerable with me about their stories of abuse and simply understood - that was life-giving. When people chose to act out God’s love - that was life-giving. All these actions gave me hope. 

THE HOPE

I want to end this story with hope. Despite all the pain, confusion, and despair, the Lord has been near and shown me goodness in the sorrow. I didn’t realize how much hope I placed in myself, others, comforts, circumstances, job titles, places, money, plans and things. This experience eliminated many of those false hopes in a way only a hardship like this would. My plans were radically changed. I no longer had a job, a church home, certain comforts or control. I had never been this exposed and felt this out of control. I was being refined. My hope could only be placed in the Lord. With so much stripped from me, I had to turn to the Lord. I became dependent upon Him in ways I have never thought possible. 

2 Corinthians 1:3-11 states the hope that I have experienced better than I could ever explain:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many.”

My hope and all of our hope is that we have “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” I know and have felt that God loves me so. I know and have felt comfort from people who have experienced the comfort of the Lord. I don’t want my “brothers and sisters” to be “uninformed” of my “sufferings.” I want to be vulnerable and share my story so others know they are not alone if they are going through something similar; so others know what is happening in our local church and can make informed decisions themselves; so others can act and be advocates when they see abuse happening; and so people can be pointed to Jesus. I believe a result of this incident is that “I might not rely on [myself] but on God, who raises the dead.” On him I have set my hope, and he will continue to deliver and bring goodness from this. 

What is also described in these verses is a confessional community. We are to suffer and endure together. We are to pray, comfort, educate, and be thankful for each other. We are to praise God together and point others to Christ. We are to be empathetic witnesses for each other. There is hope. God is using this hardship for good. My story is not finished. I simply choose to continue each day as an “informed dependent,” aware of my surroundings, discerning what I am being taught and told, and ultimately dependent upon the Lord and his wisdom and understanding that is far greater than my own.