Spiritual Abuse in a Small Town Church

If anyone should have been able to recognize and call out spiritual abuse, it was us. But, as obvious as it was, it came on so slowly and unexpectedly that we just didn’t see it. The only sense I can make of that is that we simply did not have a box for what we experienced.

My husband John and I grew up in stable Christian families and solid churches. We were active in our churches, attended Christian schools, participated in university campus ministries, and have masters degrees from a well respected seminary. We also each worked in vocational ministry for multiple years and were in the midst of rebuilding our lives after experiencing spiritual abuse there. In short, we had the education and exposure that should have made us un-harmable.

It was in this already difficult season that we met a pastor and his wife who would ultimately prove abusive themselves.

We were new in town and in need of a church. After much research and visiting, we found one that had doctrinal statements we agreed with, ministries that fit our family, excellent teaching, and a good reputation in the community. It was between 100 and 200 people, had a focus on discipleship, and a friendly, welcoming atmosphere. The pastor was new to the church but had many years of ministry experience.

Within a very short time he enthusiastically welcomed us into leadership positions in the church, even bringing John on staff part time as a pastoral intern. It felt wonderful to be seen, valued and affirmed. To have the chance to serve and use our ministry skills in new ways. It also seemed oddly fast. Shouldn’t the pastor get to know us a bit before putting us in charge of ministries and people? Yes, we had seminary degrees and had worked in ministry before. Yes, WE knew we were people of good character, but there’s no way he could possibly discern that yet. Ultimately though, the pastor was the person in charge with the authority to extend the offer and it was a great opportunity for us to try out church work. It felt a little unnerving, but we decided to move forward. 

Not everyone was happy about our new positions. A few people became stony faced and silent. They assured us that it had nothing to do with us. But they were on the church’s ministry leadership board and the public announcement was the first they had heard of it. We didn’t love that the decision seemed to have been unilateral, but shrugged it off as an awkward communication mishap.

It was important to us to handle our new responsibilities well, so we asked what guidelines, expectations, procedures and policies the pastor wanted us to follow. He assured us that anything we did would be great and proceeded to give very little guidance. As far as John’s internship, the terms were never clearly defined. The purpose, duration, and responsibilities were all very vague. Again, we weren’t thrilled to not have the direction we asked for, but figured that’s just how ministries work sometimes.

As the years went on, more and more incidents occurred with both the pastor and his wife. Small moments that didn’t raise red flags, but did raise our eyebrows. Strange interactions. Harsh or slightly demeaning comments they’d make about others. Insistence that we had information we never received. The uncomfortable way they sometimes spoke to or about each other, even in public settings. We tried to give grace and the benefit of the doubt. They were just people, we didn’t expect them to be perfect.

But it just kept intensifying.

At one point John encouraged the pastor to form an elder board that he could be accountable to, but he quickly brushed the idea off because “That just leads to power struggles.”

When John’s internship continued several months longer than we expected and his other job began requiring more of his time, he let the pastor know that he needed to wrap things up. The pastor seemed to completely understand and was gracious, but then tearfully and dramatically announced to the church that John had “dropped out” of the internship, making it sound to the congregation as if we were leaving the church and had not completed a commitment we had made.

Over the years the pastor and his wife gave us both multiple critiques about how we handled our assigned ministries. They weren’t gentle or kind. Most of their displeasure revolved around them not liking that we had approached things differently than they would. If we pushed back by pointing out that they had never given us instructions, they insisted they had and we were out of line.

And it wasn’t just us.

Some people resigned from their ministry positions and left the church. The pastor and his wife complained about how no one was stepping up to fill the positions, yet continued to harshly criticize those who were in leadership.

Many came to both John and I in tears over interactions they had had with the pastor or his wife. We offered affirmation and comfort and tried to help them make sense of the situation. We encouraged them to go let the pastor and wife know how their words had hurt. We thought maybe they just weren’t aware of the harm they were causing. Maybe if enough people told them, they’d see it and change?

Occasionally they would apologize, but nothing actually changed. Often the pastor and his wife demeaned those who brought concerns to them, calling them immature or overly sensitive, and dismissing both them and their concerns. 

We had multiple intense conversations with the couple ourselves because we truly believed they weren’t trying to hurt anyone. That they just needed to understand how their words were coming across and the problem would be solved.

Once, after much prayer, I approached the pastor’s wife about her comments that had caused people to leave not only the ministry I led, but also the church. I pointed out that God commands us to be humble, gentle, kind, and loving when we speak truth. Her response was to justify her approach because “Jesus flipped tables.” She then turned the conversation around and I became the one in the wrong. She declared that SHE was protecting others from ME. She accused me of things I knew were false. I was so up-side-down by that point that I actually went to the people I was supposed to have harmed and asked if it was true so I could make it right. They actually laughed incredulously and said that was absolutely not the case.

John said he felt like he was the pastor’s verbal punching bag. A friend began encouraging him to leave the church, but he felt such a burden for the congregation that he was willing to continue in that role. He knew it wouldn’t destroy his faith the way it might someone else’s if the pastor’s attention were to turn to them.

We knew things were bad and hated what we were seeing. Obviously our church leaders ought not be acting or treating people this way. It was so very wrong. We agonized over what our role should be. We had talked to them numerous times and sent others to do the same. What more could we do? What was our responsibility? 

The beginning of the end came when the pastor decided all small groups needed to complete a basic discipleship workbook series. While no one was opposed to it, the books just weren’t working for the people in our groups.

It became apparent that the pastor’s understanding of “discipleship” was the act of doing these workbooks. He became so angry with John for not pushing the people in our group harder that he told him, in front of others, “What YOU do doesn’t make disciples!” Later, when John let him know how hurtful that had been, he responded that he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Then came a particularly awful meeting with the pastor, his wife, the small group leaders, and all of our children. They invited us for dinner to check in to see how things were going. But after a pleasant meal they began to verbally berate us. It felt like everything was in slow motion. We were all stunned and so confused by the abrupt shift in tone. Later we learned that it didn’t just unfold that way, he had planned it.

After a few days of reflection and prayer, the small group leaders requested another meeting, this time with a moderator. We told the pastor and his wife that their treatment of us was unacceptable and could not continue. They became angry because we had talked to each other about it rather than coming straight to them. We pointed out that this WAS us coming to them and it had been necessary to discuss what had occurred with each other in order to do it. In the end nothing was resolved. Every other small group leader left the church, and John and I stepped out of our leadership responsibilities.We still didn’t want to leave our church body, so we decided to just attend services for a year. It would give the dust a chance to settle and we would see if any changes were made.

Unfortunately, what we saw was the pastor and his wife turn their attention to the ministry leader board. Their meetings increased. They were given book homework. The intensity of their conversations and disagreements grew. They began verbally attacking individuals. If a board vote went in a direction the pastor and his wife didn’t like, they would later declare it an unofficial vote and disregard it.

Finally, when only about 40 people remained in the church, the pastor decided to retire. The damage he left behind was extensive. An interim pastor was brought in to start the rebuilding process. Unfortunately, he believed we should “just move forward” and did not intend to allow discussion of all that had happened over the previous 5 years.

That was the point at which we knew we could no longer stay. Our hearts were broken and terribly confused. How could we have tried so hard for so long to make them understand the harm they were causing and never get through? How were we supposed to rebuild and trust future leaders not to do the same thing, especially if no one was allowed to talk about it? We felt we had no option but to walk away from the church community we had fought so hard to keep.

We first heard the term spiritual abuse in the following months. It started with a YouTube interview in which Teasi Cannon and Alisa Childers were discussing their time in a spiritually abusive church. Listening in on that was a completely surreal experience. We paused and rewatched countless times because of the intensely strange similarities to our experiences both in our church and in our previous ministry work. From there we found beEmboldened, Michael J. Kruger’s blog and Bully Pulpit, The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill podcast series, and many other resources. We dug in, read, and listened. We ravenously consumed all the information we could find on the topic.

There were words for what we had experienced. We weren’t alone!

The way our pastor and his wife acted wasn’t just wrong, it was abusive. Not only that, it was abusive in Jesus’ name. With all of our education and time in ministry, we had never once heard that an abusive pastor was a possibility. If even WE didn’t know to watch for it, how is anyone else supposed to? 

The impact this information has had on our lives is immense. We finally began to understand and to heal. We considered how life changing it would be if it was taught in Christian churches, schools, campus ministries and seminaries. How many could be spared the damage done by abusive leaders by simply knowing they exist? 

We're thrilled to see this cry of our hearts starting to become a reality.  Information is making its way into churches. Churches are beginning to open their doors to be equipped on preventing abuse and helping the abused to heal and to rebuild. beEmboldened recently launched a new workshop for exactly these purposes. They believe that the narrative can be changed, just as ours has been and continues to be changed. Please consider emailing them for more information on how to bring this event to your local community. I know they'd love to help.