Last week, I finally started to put photos from years ago
into photo albums. I have definitely fallen down on the job when it comes to photo organization. A great deal of change has taken place in our family. Not
just the normal transitions that families make as children get older and move
on into their adult lives, or spouses changing careers, or even moving to
another state. Even though our family has weathered all these changes, we have
also endured many vicissitudes in our faith. I believe the culmination of the
breach in our faith happened after
Gerry, the
pastor that sexually abused my
child was
sentenced. One would think that validation through the court system
would bring about healing, and I am still hoping that will be the case, but for
now, we are all still very raw, and very tender when it comes to our faith.
For the last five years our family has had to deal with
other serious challenges and changes, and each of us has adapted a persevering
mindset that we will move forward, no matter what has been thrown at us. This stance is very individualistic in nature, for each of
us has used the strengths in our personalities to perfect this position that
may look like everything is alright in the world, or the fierce protector, or
the dutiful one, or the adventurer seeking solace in the unknown. However, each
of us desperately needs a safe place to find rest. However, the default mode
has been if we keep ourselves busy enough we don't feel the ache that is present
in our souls.
Well, I was faced with that ache last week when I stumbled
upon both sets of baptism photos of my children. Just seeing each pastor that
wreaked such havoc in our family caused such a visceral reaction in me. And I
was faced with questions that I was hoping if I just kept busy enough I
wouldn’t have to face. Such as how can something so personal, something which
is supposed to be so pure, something that aids in defining the identity of a
person- baptism become so tainted and become a place of pain? What happens when
one of the most sacred rituals of faith is marred by the actions of the man who
is doing the baptism?
When I came across the set of pictures where the kids were
baptized, I saw how I documented who attended, their emotions about the event,
the festivities, and even the clouds, for they were baptized at sunset, and God
did not disappoint, for streams of light glistened through the clouds as the
sun set. I remember feeling like I had fulfilled some part of this contract
that I had with God as a parent, not that we forced our kids, for we didn’t.
They came to us on both occasions, but any Christian parent desires to see
their children make a decision to follow Christ. Looking back, I am sure there
was some parental pride, but what I remember feeling was relieved. For I thought,
they are baptized now, they are safe. I remember taking a picture of Chuck and
he was crying as the kids were baptized, he too felt relief. Both of us, struggled
with wondering if we were doing right by our kids. I think that there is a
checklist in the heart that where the box can be checked at each milestone.
But now, what do I do with these pictures? Do I cut out the
bad guys? I have seen those pictures
where one spouse cuts out the other- that doesn’t work, for all it shows is the
disruption in the family. Do I just tuck them away in a folder? I am left with
questions that do not have any easy answers.
I had wanted to leave that church from the start, but we
stayed 11 long years. The spiritual abuse that our family endured left us as an
easy target for the next church. Stan
did a fantastic job in tearing down our gender in both Chuck and me. He was a
bully in the pulpit that outed each member, and embarrassed them in public, but
I tended to be his favorite subject. I remember cutting my hair short and Stan
stating in front of the entire congregation, ”When Chuck goes to bed with you
at night, he may mistake you for a man, Tonya.”
It is still very painful for me
to share, for the responses I get normally stem from complete shock, to questions
like, ‘why didn’t you leave?’
But Stan had used so many tactics that had beaten
us down, he had used our past against us, which kept us fearful, which kept us
there. The control and manipulation that was used against our family caused
each of us to doubt our faith. For Chuck and me it caused us to doubt our
decisions and our ability to trust other people. Little did I know that the man
who so arrogantly kept everyone by his soporific diatribe during the baptism,
was also secretly telling my children that I could not be trusted and that I
was a bad mom.
So when we left NLCD and started attending JMI, Chuck and I
held back, for we were not ready to engage again. However, that very need was
the door that opened up our kids to being seduced by Gerry and Beth. And just
like the pied piper, they separated the teens from the parents- they even secretly
asked the kids to call them momma and papa.
They took the sacred sharing of counseling and prayer time and used it
against us as parents and before we knew it, we felt our kids slipping away
from us. During this process, as the kids became more ‘spiritual’ they wanted
to be re-baptized. Who were we to argue? We had been baptized more than once-
however for us, it had more to do with our commitment, but for our children it was
based on whom. To think that the hands that immersed my children under the
water were the same hands than molested my daughter.
The violation of the
sacred is more than words can say. The tainting, marring, breaching, sullying,
tarnishing, and polluting that was accomplished in this ritual cuts us to the
quick. In my studies I have learned, that these rituals enact the form of
social relations and in giving these relations visible expression they enable
people to know their own society. Through baptism, we are supposed to know our
own. How does one recover from that?
Isn’t the sacred supposed to the place of safety, of
unconditional love? A place where we can run to when we are afraid? What
happens when the place that is supposed to protect, feed, and nurture you
becomes a place of deviance, of war, and of pain? What happens when the
identity that was secure in Christ feels like leprosy? For these rituals work in
the body as being symbolic of the nature of God. When all of that- is tainted, broken-
shattered- so much so that every time I try to pick up the pieces, I end up
cutting myself. So for a period of time I quit trying to pick up the pieces
until this week.
Seeing these men with their smug expression of hubris and
piety only makes me shake with anger.
Yep, I just used the A-word for Christians. It is that dirty
shameful word that is silenced by tons of scriptures and of course the word
forgiveness. For the longest time, I wanted to call my post: “God hates an
angry woman.”
Not that I believed
this, but I definitely felt that the church as a whole sees an angry woman like
they would see a fire-they want to extinguish it as soon as possible so it or
she doesn’t do too much damage.
I find it interesting how threatened people
feel, especially men if they meet an angry woman. For depending on how strict
your doctrine is, women should be silenced or at least gentle. But angry- no- for
anger rests in the bosoms of fools and we don’t want to be a foolish woman.
However, anger is an emotion we have been given, in fact it
is designed to notify us when something is wrong. Sometimes the determination
of the wrong can be seen in both parties, and sometimes, in one party. But even
in the Bible there are passages that use the fierceness of a mother and her
cubs, such as a lioness. Who dares to come in between a lioness and her cubs?
Ezekiel 19: 2 states, “What a lioness was your mother among the lions! She lay
down among them and reared her cubs."
Even Ezekiel acknowledges the fierce
protectiveness that a mother has over her children. In Lamentations, Jeremiah
calls the ostrich mother foolish. Laminations 4:3 states, “Even jackals offer
their breasts to nurse their young, but my people have become heartless like
ostriches in the desert.” And yet, a mother cannot be angry that her children
were hurt by these men? That these men tried to destroy her family? That they
tried to turn children against their parents?
Instead she is met with scriptures of forgiveness. I am not
against forgiveness, I understand the power of it, but I also understand that
time and safety is vital in bringing about forgiveness. As I study PTSD and the
effects, the most important thing is safety.
And what is safety? Isn’t it
acceptance? Isn’t it a place where one can be who they are? Where they can show
their emotions, work through their feelings and thoughts? Or is it all about
keeping up with appearances? I have found that going through the motions only
causes more pain and harm.
So where does a mother go?
I found the church lacking in
safety, not just the churches that I have attended, but the body as a whole. There
seems to be little understanding for the victims, this is why so many of us
stay quiet. For the pain and stigma that comes with talking can be just as
damaging as the act itself. So many want their idyllic world to stay status quo
where everything is all right in the church. But what happens when it isn’t?
What happens when some of the most severe abuse takes place in the church? Who
is willing to stand up for the victims? Who is willing to give voice to the
voiceless? Who is willing to not only say that sexual abuse is a sin- but call
it what it is a CRIME. When will the Church start taking responsibility and
accepting the punishments that are afforded to the guilty? Why is it that
sexual abuse is a sin, but murder is a crime? McKinnon argues, “Rape is not prohibited,
it is regulated in our society.” It is a strong statement that has so much
truth in it. Today sexual abuse is minimized in so many ways. I am so grateful
that my daughter and the other victims were given closure and validation for
the pain they endured. But that doesn’t take away the pain we feel, the shame,
or the isolation we feel. I understand that people are not sure what they
should say, so they remain quiet. However the quietness is deafening and I
believe our voices should be raised, that this type of behavior is not acceptable
or tolerated in any church, school, or home.
But for now, I sit with these pictures wondering what to do
with them. Pondering what should have taken place. Hoping that one day, I will
have an answer.
