“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge …” (Hosea 4:6).
“For it is time for judgment to begin at the household of God …” (1 Peter 4:17).
I am a friend to my beloved congregation, and to the dear congregations I’ve previously served. I try to be a good friend. At the same time, as a pastor, I hold a position of sacred trust.
When people invite me into their lives – to share their triumphs and their setbacks, their joys and their sorrows – I must be perpetually mindful of what it means for me to be a shepherd under Christ. Not every one of my relationships qualifies as a pastor-congregant relationship, but I must be vividly aware of what it would mean at any time for me to violate such a position of spiritual influence.
That influence is built over time, as I stand near the graves of loved ones and preach the boundless hope of the gospel. As I make hospital visits, in times both good and gut-wrenching. As I attend soccer games and dance recitals. As I seek, from the pulpit, to rightly divide the Word of God. As I help the distraught in times of crisis: relational, emotional, spiritual, financial. You name it.
But that influence also comes in an instant, simply by the title that I bear and the office where I prepare my sermons and drink my morning coffee.
It’s easy for a pastor-shepherd to wield power without fully realizing it. Deep down, we pastors know that we’re not all that special, and that the best of men are men at best. But our lack of feeling special is no excuse for letting ourselves off the hook. We’re on the hook, clearly, and have been placed on the hook by the inner call of God – followed by the confirmation of some human, ecclesiastical authority.
Abuse happens when pastors violate appropriate boundaries. Such abuse can take the form of our own misbehavior, or of the covering up of the misbehavior of someone else. In either case, it’s a tragic betrayal of the sacred trust that’s been placed in us. And it’s all too common.
Sometimes spiritual leaders try to defend their predatory activity by claiming that the relationship or the behavior was “consensual.” That excuse should never be allowed to stand, as congregants seeking spiritual care are inherently in vulnerable positions. Pastors speak words of heavy influence. We regularly handle close-to the-soul subjects like eternal salvation, right and wrong, emotional wellbeing, and morally acceptable behavior. Such subjects, by their very nature, put unsuspecting congregants at risk. They can be exploited and manipulated, and it often happens under the public radar. On a related subject, it should go without saying, but because it’s important, I’ll say it anyway: Children can’t “consent” to sexual activity.
Congregations, out of misplaced fear or embarrassment, often try to excuse or gloss over predatory behavior within their walls. What will happen to the church? What will become of our reputation? Can’t we handle this internally? Aren’t we supposed to forgive and forget?
No! After nearly 39 years of pastoral ministry, here’s my counsel: CALL THE AUTHORITIES NOW. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
If there’s been an unfair allegation – yes, these do happen – the appropriate authorities will sort that out. The local church is not the police department, or any other such agency which may be needed, and should never attempt to function as such. Remember that, by His grace and for His glory, God has instituted different spheres of authority: individual, family, church, and government. To confuse their distinct responsibilities is to work against human flourishing. Criminal behavior must be dealt with criminally.
When pastors or other religious leaders abuse, sexually or otherwise, deep spiritual wounds are inflicted upon the sheep. Our English word “trauma” comes from the Greek word that means “wound.” Abuse at the hands of a pastor is exceedingly damaging to a person’s sense of dignity and self-worth, and to that person’s ability to trust others. It cuts deep, and it shreds one’s basic sense of personhood.
The psychological, emotional, and spiritual horror comes from the betrayal of trust, the confusion of right and wrong, and the inherent but very real power differential which marks a pastor-congregant relationship. For many victims of such abuse, their understanding of faith is eroded beyond repair. That’s why “consent” doesn’t fly.
I’m glad to see what is happening in Georgia, where a key Senate committee has unanimously advanced Senate Bill 542. The bill would add “clergy” to the state’s “improper sexual contact” statute, and would allow prosecutors to bring charges when a pastor takes advantage of a counseling relationship to obtain sexual contact. If the bill becomes law, it will categorize religious leaders just like other authority figures now covered by Georgia law. As one who has observed the heart-rending fallout from pastoral sexual abuse, I view this development as necessary and helpful accountability.
Hayle Swinson, who survived abuse while a university student, testified that clergy sexual abuse is a pattern that often begins with manipulation: “It begins with trust, a pastor, a mentor, a person with spiritual authority who’s saying ‘You can trust me; this is God’s will,” all while violating you at the same time … Scripture is twisted to justify … Isolation is normalized, and boundaries are slowly eroded … This is not consent. This is coercion through power.”
I hope that this awareness, and this movement, spreads to all fifty states.
Please don’t be naïve enough to think that this is a “Catholic” problem or a problem limited to any single swath within the Church. Abuse can happen anywhere, so you and I must be vigilant to protect all people – children and adults – in the name of Christ.
I’m calling upon my fellow pastors, specifically, to join me in working together to make our laws as broadly protective as possible.
We should settle for nothing less.
Pastor Charles
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