on church and the aftermath #metoo

Possibly the most hurtful part of my sexual assault was the church that failed me in the aftermath.

A place that had been my home, people who had professed friendship, kinship, sisterhood, and family left me as so much collateral damage.

I get it, I do. I know I wouldn’t shut up about it and it wore on you all. I get it, he denied it and what could you do?

Uhhhh, a lot more than the nothing that resulted. A lot more than telling me, it can’t be about what he did, but about how you felt. I’m assuming that you, as a rational blog reader, see how ILLOGICAL that is, right?

trauma isn’t so neat as two solid cry fests and then BAM! Healed!

It’s just, trauma isn’t so neat as two solid cry fests and then BAM! Healed! It isn’t so neat as ‘write him a letter about your feelings and not accusing him of anything’ and then the issue is resolved.

So I kept talking because I kept looking for a response.

You know, a different response than, “Well, I guess you have to forgive him without him acknowledging it.”

Um yes, obviously. Truly, that’s been easier than forgiving you, church. His actions were somehow more clearly and understandably a violation.

But what you meant by forgiveness was “Listen, he has categorically denied assaulting you. You keep bringing this up and it’s making everyone uncomfortable. We can’t prove anything. Kind of seems to be a YOU PROBLEM, you know?”

Sweeping something aside and calling it forgiveness is not what I meant by forgiving him.

That? Yeah, that did come much easier than forgiving you, church. That’s been much harder. Don’t get me wrong, if he ever decides to seek absolution I will be a wreck. Much like I was when I found out he was moving to my province. Much like I was when I found out that after all that, you let him preach.

You cast me aside. You let him preach. You, my peers, started avoiding me. You believed lies about me, spread from his lips and others.

I want to be clear. He is allowed to have God’s love, and to have friends and community. I’m not saying shun him. That’s never what I was asking for. Incidentally, it’s what you did to me. But what he also needed was to have those who love him to call him out on his downright shitty behaviour.

He sexually assaulted his sister-in-Christ. And you knew about it, sat back and said: not your problem.

He sexually assaulted his sister-in-Christ. And you knew about it, sat back and said: not your problem.

The last conversation with my pastor that I can recall is the one where I told him about being assaulted. After a while in my continued church-going, I can’t remember you, my pastor, meeting my eyes anymore.

I can only assume that’s because you’re the person I told initially. And you did nothing but ask him for his side of the story. And maybe you felt convicted by that lack of action which is why you… wouldn’t look at me. Maybe not, but in the absence of ANY relationship with you at all, after I told you my sad little story of being assaulted by someone you mentored, I’m left to draw my own conclusions.

Your actions in allowing him to speak up, lead, preach, actively participate in leading worship without dealing with his sexual assault of me, certainly showed me your disbelief. And with that example, who can condemn my church friends for following suit?

Well I guess, at the end of the day, I spoke up. I didn’t stop speaking up. It’s just that my audience shrunk.

Silence is tacit approval. Refusing to engage means you reinforced his belief that he did nothing wrong.

Silence is tacit approval. Refusing to engage means you reinforced his belief that he did nothing wrong.

I just, you GET how wrong that is, right? You GET that??

I know, I know. Here I am again. Still not over it. GAWD, like, how long will I harp on this for?

Guess what? Probably a while. I mean, is this something I SHOULD be quiet about? …if yes, why? I can forgive you (praying so hard for that supernatural ability within me). But that doesn’t excuse you.

I suppose a church that admits no wrongdoing breeds a Christian who will admit no wrongdoing.

Church. We have to be better to the victims in our midst. We can’t pursue an idyllic life of peace and joy by refusing to engage in someone’s messy, dirty story.

Your Instagram posts quoting the Bible with strategically placed cups of perfectly poured coffees ring false to those you left behind, unwilling to engage. This is offensive to those you bar out of your country, do not lend aid to. It is not just rape survivors your pursuit of a quiet, unruffled life is hurting.

Maybe the peace you seek proves so elusive because you’ve misunderstood what it really looks like. For the poor, the widows, the ostracized, the mentally ill, the condemned, the rabble-rousers.

I take comfort in the fact that when Jesus walked this earth, he sought people like me (and you) out. The messy ones. The ones struggling out loud with difficult issues. The ones whose struggles required entering into tangled conflict. The ones you wouldn’t touch. I take comfort in the fact that He would have called out my abuser and wouldn’t be scared to do so.

If you’re scared of conflict tearing apart your church, what sort of weak Jesus do you trust? The right thing won’t be easy, but we’re called to do it anyway. Speaking of not easy, I need to forgive my old church. And The Church. Ugh.

a church that admits no wrongdoing breeds a Christian who will admit no wrongdoing.

I know from this world I won’t see perfection, but my heart made for heaven longs for it. On earth, my heart longs for justice. My heart longs for peace-making. My heart longs for no one else to go through this ostracization at the hands of those who profess to know better. I know this sounds bitter, because yeah, I’m not perfect. And damn it my story is by no means unique. NOT. AT. ALL.

You know, Jesus was betrayed by his friend. That shouldn’t comfort me, but in the long string of church betrayal, by way of silence, it does. He has walked where I have walked. He knows being forsaken, denied, destroyed. And still, He loves. I pray to be like him in this matter. I’m not there yet. Church forgiveness still eludes me, though some days I’m better at it than others.

At the end of the day, it’s how we live out our lives that God cares about. Did you take care of me, your friend, when I was broken and asking for advocates? Or did you watch me drop away and console yourself with “Some friendships just aren’t meant to last” without thinking too hard about why that one you’re thinking of didn’t?

The next time someone tells you a story that requires entering into godly conflict remember that ultimately, our actions are held accountable to God. Think long and hard about what that means.

But not too long or you risk doing nothing.