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FOR CHURCHES
For Survivors
How sweet is this? A granddaughter of one of the people who bought my 2022 calendar wanted to color it in. Grateful. She made it look better!!!!
Joseph said these words, reflecting on the trauma he endured after being sold into slavery, enduring exploitation, and languishing in prison. So many times, he must’ve wondered where God was.
Today, I feel that wondering in my gut—sexual abuse coverups, the killing of elementary children & a teacher here in Texas. It’s too much.
No platitudes except grief and lament, and this prayer that somehow, mysteriously, fruit will someday come. But right now? Appropriate tears.
Here is the prayer of lament I prayed 3 years ago at the SBC convention. (remainder in comments). So deeply grieved that nothing seemed to have changed.
Our majestic, sovereign, empathetic, beautiful Father in heaven, we repent of how we have failed to love those who struggle in our midst, and we recognize your holy rumblings in this midst of the sexual abuse crisis.
We have not always wept with those who weep. We have not always crossed the street with the Good Samaritan, inconveniencing ourselves for those who bleed.
We have sometimes preferred our institutions and systems to the cries of the wounded in our midst.
We have failed to acknowledge the very real grief and trauma of survivors, abandoning them to feel alone, bereft, and untouchable. Sometimes we have blamed them for their neediness, or we’ve simply dismissed their stories, preferring our own narratives because it is more convenient to do so.
We have not rightly understood the nature of wolves in our midst, and there have been times when we jumped to believe their howls of innocence over the cries of those they’ve devoured.
Through our ignorance, we have further marginalized image bearers of God who have difficult stories of abuse (sometimes at the hands of members and leaders of our congregations) by shaming, silencing, and blaming them.
We have looked the other way.
We have not acted justly, loved mercy, or walked humbly with You, O Lord.
Forgive us for preferring corporate reputation to the outcries of survivors.
Forgive us for grossly underestimating the tools of Satan’s greatest arsenal—that of sexual exploitation, trafficking, assault, harassment and pornography’s insidious grip on many in our midst.
Forgive us for not valuing our children enough to protect them.
Forgive us for neglecting to report sexual assault in our congregations to the governing authorities.
Forgive us for failing to see the worldwide Body of Christ as valuable enough to protect it from the predators we have sent their way, so it’s no longer our problem, but theirs.
We repent.
To say I am grieved would be an understatement. I finished reading the Guidepost report after returning from the #restore2022 conference. Difficult timing, that.
@ct_mag has a couple of summary articles if you’d like to read about it (severe trigger warning).
In short, the Southern Baptist Convention leadership had lists of sexual predators, but did nothing. And many leaders had hidden crimes. And they spent time, energy, and money silencing anyone who brought up the issue of abuse. It’s hellish.
I pray this prophetic shedding of light creates change, but I’m skeptical that it will happen, and I am deeply saddened.
Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. This denomination has rot in its bones. On so many levels.
Those who see the scaffolding (underbelly beneath the facade) of the church and are deeply wounded by it, I see you. I’m so sorry.
I learned from so many of you at the #restore2022 conference. How to be tender with those eviscerated by the powerful who exploit while name-dropping Jesus. How to keep my mouth quiet while you pour out your fear of Christian environments. How to ask permission. How to tread tenderly with the traumatized. How to stop defending and start empathizing.
This tragedy does not diminish the actual church. Instead it’s God’s way of highlighting the stark difference between shepherds who care for their flock and wolves wearing wool, baaaahing Christian rhetoric. I’m struck by how the sermon on the mount rings true, but how short the church falls.
We think blessed are the powerfully platformed, not blessed are the meek.
We think blessed are the glibly articulate, not blessed be the persecuted.
We strive for the trappings of fame and money, forgetting that the treasure is actually Jesus.
We seek the favor of crowds, while Jesus sought the unseen ones.
I can’t help but think revival will come from the least expected place in the American church—from those who have barely survived it’s inhuman machinations. From those attacked by wolves and still have the scars. From those who alone told the truth like prophets, but were assaulted by angry sheep who preferred to believe a predator over the cries of the prey.
Repentance is in order. Apologies too. Humility. Self examination.
If you were harmed in church or ministry, I’m so sorry. Your story matters. You are not alone. There is a community of the wounded ready to embrace you, listen, and weep alongside.
#clergysexualabuse #spiritualabuserecovery
#restore2022 is a wrap. So grateful for the opportunity to serve, share, cry alongside, pray, and have great conversations. I pray all who attended experienced shalom.
Dear leaders in church and ministry, we are longing for you to say it’s wrong when we are wounded. Please acknowledge the wreckage of spiritual abuse. We need you to notice our pain.
Got to be with a few heroes today at #restore2022. Dr Scot McKnight and his wife Kristen, Dr. Diane Langberg, and many amazing attendees. Because a presenter couldn’t make it today, not only did I emcee, but I spoke too. It’s been a good day. Pray for stamina and receptivity to the Holy Spirit.
Thank you Dr. Diane Langberg for your prophetic words at the #restore2022 conference today. “It’s not by fame, but by humility.”
Your friend’s migraine doesn’t nullify your headache. It’s unfruitful to compare traumas, especially if you dismiss your own because it’s seemingly smaller than your friend’s.
Let’s be empathetic and kind to ourselves when we struggle.
Friend, your emotions about your pain are valid. Don’t stuff them because you deem them small. Cry your release. You can’t move beyond what you refuse to feel.
CONTEST ENDED. Thanks for all your amazing comments. I let the two winners know, and now my wee paintings are ready to ship!
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I successfully gave away all my misunderstood women of the Bible paintings except two: Eve and Phoebe. If you'd like to win one of the original watercolors, simply like this post, then comment about either woman. If you tag someone else, you get another entry. I'll choose a winner 6PM CST on Wednesday May 18th. I hope you win!
When you come home to encouraging flowers from your friend @alisonlumbatis and your garden produced tomatoes and a strawberry, you thank the good Lord for blessings.
Friends, I could use some prayer for protection, wisdom, and covering now until Sunday. Thank you so much.
Deeply saddened by the #buffalo attack. Reminds me of a Depeche Mode song from another era.
“People are people so why should it be you and I should get along so awfully? . . . I don’t understand what makes a man hate another man; help me understand.”
I’m writing this in Bellevue Square—an old high school hangout where we had dances sometimes, and that song would play and we would dance.
Going to a store should not be a moment to fear, but today it is. Lord have mercy. We have lost the intrinsic truth that all humans bear the imago dei—the image of their Creator. To take a life (or many lives) is an abhorrent act of terrorism against human beings and their God. We grieve. He grieves. Words fall flat. Lament is a good start.
Church with my mom. Grateful.
Are you ever afraid to anticipate something with joy? I've lived so long on this earth as a pragmatist, as a pesky realist, that I'm actually afraid to think positively.
But that's not a very joyful way to live, always expecting the bad stuff.
I pray that God would help me anticipate the next chapter of my life with holy anticipation instead of resigned dread. Does that make sense?
Once Jesus said something very clear to me. He said, "Mary you can trust Me with your pain, but can you trust Me with your joy?"
Maybe we’ve grown so comfortable with expected suffering that we’ve lost the capacity to anticipate abundance. Or to revel in joy when it comes.
I want to do better, don’t you?
A Saturday poem:
I’ve been thinking
About my heart,
How easily it snaps from news,
How it chills
Under the cold, hard stare of trials
How small it feels
Beneath the bigness of trauma
How much I need
A new way to think of worries
Funny how our hearts are
Inextricably tied to our minds
If our minds are tangled
Our hearts are wrangled to the ground
Beating offbeat
Struggling to right the rhythm
Desperate to lock onto normal
God tells us to guard our heart,
Itself the fountain of life,
The irrigation of our will to move on
We rehydrate it
With honest tears
Of surrender
And lament
Asking God to please, please
Teach us the necessity
Of heart curation
#guardyourheart #wellspring #heartcurator #jesusloves
I like "the end." Don't you? It's closure, a grand finale. But God often puts us in the midst of unfinished stories, doesn't He?
We struggle in a marriage that's just not "there" yet. Our child sabotages himself and his future, opening the door for a bleak ending. We can't write that check to pay that nagging bill. We still have that awful habit we'd swore we'd overcome. We can't seem to be happy even though we truly want to be, but our circumstances keep messing with that happiness. Our prayer for that prodigal goes unanswered for decades. That wildly successful business we imagined has instead crashed and burned.
Our goal isn't to see resolution. It's to be faithful in the One Story God has mapped for us. We will live in tension every moment we walk this earth. We may even die, not seeing a particular dream come true. And we'd be in good company.
"All these people died still believing what God had promised them. They did not receive what was promised, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed it" (Hebrews 11:13).
You may be living in the tension of an unfinished story right now. Take heart. The patriarchs did too. Heroes of the faith lived in that same tension, between the now and the not yet. God is creating a masterpiece plan, weaving it beautifully out of all our unfinished stories. He finishes them beautifully on the other side.
I believe heaven will be full of aha.
We'll have conversations with strangers (who will become fast friends) about those ahas. The chatter will be peppered with, "What I didn't know then was that God was doing __________." And we'll share with joy and awe.
I have unfinished stories aplenty. They fill me with ache. To be honest, I wish God would "the end" them right now so I could put them behind me. But where would the faith be? If everything were answered, I wouldn't need to depend so much on God. Yes, it's bewildering. Yes, I don't like it. Yes, I'm tired. But it's precisely in those times that I actually see my need for Jesus.
Playing cribbage with Patrick’s father in Wenatchee. He mostly wins!
I am learning that pursuing Jesus and His will is different than blindly following advice. (Of course it’s good to follow advice. Proverbs tell us this, but that’s not the same as obeying advice without first weighing it).
In my career, I am seeing that I could submit myself to all the tasks associated with writing and speaking, so much so that the treadmill of this would break me, wear my soul clear out.
I am realizing that God’s economy is flipped. It is entirely different than the way this world applauds. God blesses small, while the world applauds big, splashy, more. And in this realization, I cling to the idea that little is much in His hands.
He is the One who takes tiny seeds, allows them to break apart and die beyond all hope of life, and then sprouts the seed until it grows into something the seed cannot take credit for.
I confess that I have spent a great deal of time, money and energy on artificially germinating the seed. And God has said, “If you do all this, when the emaciated sprout emerges from the ground, all you’ll have to say is, ‘Look what I did.’”
But if I die to the way I think things should go, if I lay down my agenda, if I welcome all those little deaths—even death to my dreams—God brings His impossible resurrection. And when I look back on what He has done, all I can do is point to His power and my weakness.
I’ve made a determination to slow down and really listen for God’s guidance, to stop favoring the voices of others over the King of kings.
You know what? It’s been 100% peaceful. Instead of running around like a crazy writer-speaker, adding tasks to my to-do list because I feel I have to do make it in this business, I am stopping and asking God to direct me.
The freedom I have found is beyond words. I can’t describe it in a post. But I’m so grateful.
He will lead.
He will bring the increase as He wills.
He will open closed doors and close seemingly open ones.
He will act in ways counterintuitive to the world’s system of fame, acclaim, and building a reputation. He is a good Father who knows what is best for my soul.
I am content.
