I think about the judgment I’ve felt over the last couple of years from those I once considered friends, both real and perceived, and it’s painful. The real judgment has included things as severe as being called a slanderer, to things as benign as critiques on how I parent my adult children. I’ve been accused of expecting perfection from certain pastors and elders (which was not true) when I only wanted accountability for their actions and behaviors. I’ve had people ask, “Why can’t you just move on? Why don’t you forgive?” I feel like what’s really being said is “It shouldn’t have hurt you as bad as it did, but since it does, the problem is yours.”

The judgment is not always in what’s being said, but in what’s not being said. It’s in the distance that’s created with each step back. It might have been subtle at first, like the frog in the pot, but now it’s more obvious. I wonder if I could have done something differently to maintain these relationships? Can I do something now? Lately, though, I wonder if I want the kind of friendships that come with all these unspoken rules of decorum. Because if everyone is honest, it’s not really about what’s going on on the inside; it’s about how things look on the outside.

We get stuck in these echo chambers, where anyone who says anything outside the status quo is labeled as the problem. We believe that everyone should feel the same way we do, and if they don’t, we aren’t willing to hear them out, because they’re on the wrong side. Instead, we attempt to quiet them down, shut them up, or stop listening altogether. What would happen if we were to listen to someone we disagreed with and they made some valid points or told the truth about something we didn’t want to know? It could threaten our sense of stability. What we know to be the right way. What many tout as “biblical” or “God’s way.” Whether it is or isn’t doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that we toe the line to keep some semblance of normalcy and not disrupt the carefully crafted house of cards.

I’ve been there. I’ve been a part of that type of thinking, too. I understand the reasons behind our actions. I know we don’t want to question or push back on anything labeled “spiritual authority,” because we don’t want to question God. We don’t want to be the difficult one. We don’t want to challenge the things we believe and why we believe them. We don’t want to have to present an argument or defense for what we believe, because often, all we’re sharing are someone else’s talking points. When it gets down to the nitty-gritty, we don’t necessarily believe all the things we’re “supposed” to. So, to defend a belief system that we’re not certain of puts us in a sticky place outside of our echo chamber. It also puts the responsibility for what we say we believe on us, and we hate that. We hate having to defend our beliefs, especially when everyone should simply accept them.

I guess all of that makes it easy to treat someone you considered a friend as disposable. To villainize them and make them your enemy because they told the truth. They challenged the narrative being pushed. They challenged the system. They challenged the people within that system who hurt others yet continue to get support. I suppose it’s easier to rationalize the poor treatment of your brothers and sisters in Christ, who called out sinful behaviors, than to confront your own part, minimal though it may be, in enabling a system of abuse that some people call “church.” But it’s a lose-lose for everyone. And you become complicit in the abusive, controlling actions of others when you can hold them accountable and don’t. To add insult to injury, there’s a willingness to judge every person who has “sinned” except for those who remain in the system.

The other day, I saw a Facebook post shared by a Christian. It was a news story about a couple of teachers, male and female, who had been arrested and charged with attempted sex trafficking of minor students. On that post, which I agree is heinous and should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, many people were saying “Pull your kids out of public schools,” and “Shut down Government schools,” and things like “castration” and “death” to the perpetrators. That same day, I shared about a Pastor of a Presbyterian church arrested in a prostitution sting. Comments on my post were about the Fruit of the Spirit and “the enemy.” I see stories of abuse (sexual and other types) from clergy, pastors, and leaders in the church every day. However, I do not see the same kind of outrage towards those inside the church as I do towards those outside it. Where is the outrage and call to “Pull the kids out” or “Shut it down,” when this kind of abuse happens in the church? Instead, it’s quietly dealt with, covered up, and swept under the rug.

Why is this? 1 Peter 4:17 says that judgment begins in the House of God, and starts with us. We’re supposed to be judging those rightly within the church and holding them to account. Instead, we often call out those in the church who hold no or low positions, are inconsistent in their attendance, are on the fringes, or have left altogether. To those people, we hold them fully accountable, going so far as to use church discipline if they’re not falling in line with our list of “to-dos.” Meanwhile, we have false teachers and wolves, bullies and abusers, who always get a pass. They are never held accountable for their actions. Or, if they are, it’s a performative kind of lip service, where they acknowledge they’ve made a “mistake,” give a half-hearted apology (at best), lie low for a while, and then, as if by magic, are fully back in the position that they never stepped away from.

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.
“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.
“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.” Matthew 23:23-28

Of course, they continue this behavior repeatedly, year after year. And it’s to the detriment of the congregation and to themselves. Yes, those around them could hold them accountable and call out their sin, but how would that look to outsiders? It would be a smear on the “church.” So, instead, they’re allowed to bully and abuse people (the lowly ones), continually creating “the bodies behind the bus” (as Mark Driscoll likes to refer to his victims). They are the collateral damage of upholding and valuing the system of the church, and everyone is harmed by it: the abusers, the enablers of the abusers and abuse, and the abused.

Where is Jesus in all of this? He sides with the oppressed. The victims of the abuse.

“ Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:35-36

Jesus tells us that light shines in darkness, that what has been hidden in secret will be brought to the light. And he often uses us, his weak and lowly followers, to call these things to attention. He uses the foolish things of this world to confound the wise. What he does not leave room for is sweeping things under the rug to preserve a system wrought with injustice. He is the truth. So, when someone speaks the truth and tries to expose or shed light on the truth, even if they are of “lesser value” than those you hold in high esteem, you should listen to them.

Do you think by letting the cycles of spiritual abuse in your local congregation continue, you are doing the work of the Lord? Do you think that by letting them get away with damaging others and “forgiving” them, you are extending grace? No, you’re not. It’s not grace to allow people to continue in their sin without warning them and not holding them accountable for their own actions. It’s not grace to uphold a leader who looks (mostly) good on the outside while he uses his position to bully, intimidate, and try to silence those who dare to question him about how the “church” is running. It’s not grace for those who have been discarded by the “church” because they didn’t toe the line, compromise, or act complicit in the recurring destructive cycle that your “church” has created and carried on for the sake of that system. It’s not for Christ. It’s not for his Church.

It is for the people to feel comfortable in the space they’ve known for so long. To maintain the status quo and not rock the boat. You have to suspend reasoning in order to continue with this cycle. You have to be willing to shut down anyone who would question this narrative. You have to be willing to look the other way, not wanting to know the whole truth, in order to keep up the illusion that this is God’s will for you and for your “church.” You have to be willing to call yourself a “church” when it is not centered around Jesus and his gospel, because if it were, you would call out the sin in your midst. Not to break everything apart, but to come closer together and be united in Christ, in truth.

If we claim to abide in Christ, we should walk as Christ walked (1 John 2:6). Failing to address the sin of individuals within the church, especially those in leadership, leads to more and worse sin. It also makes you complicit in knowing that sin is happening and doing nothing about it. Or worse, pretend it isn’t happening, put your head in the sand, claim to be “trusting God,” and let sin and all the harm it causes continue.

But it’s easier to label those who have questioned and pushed back as the problem. It’s easier to hold those on the fringes, not maintaining the status quo, as responsible for the problems within your congregation, because that takes the focus off the perpetrators and, ultimately, off of yourself. Anyone who threatens the status quo, or the illusion that’s been built, even if they were once your friend, becomes the enemy.