Tag Archives: spiritual abuse

I have been silent for 6 years. And in that silence, stuck.

Unable to move forward, a hardened heart, and the weight of the secrets on my shoulders.

My silence had many layers, twisted together that eventually formed a boulder. I didn’t want to be labeled as messy, didn’t know how to process anymore, and it was not my story to tell. Writing has always shed a new perspective for me and allowed me to feel all the feels as the words left my fingertips, but as I have avoided writing for 4-6 years, I have also avoided processing, my failed attempt at not feeling.

There are moments in life that come in like an earthquake, unexpected & lasting from a few seconds to a few minutes, that shake us to our core. Have you ever had an earthquake moment that changes the entire trajectory of your life? 2017 was the series of these moments that violently shook and disrupted the foundation I proudly stood on, causing cracks deeper than I could have ever imagined. It was short lived but had lasting effects. I escaped the toxic grasp of a pastor in October of 2017, but got lost in the rubble, buried alive under the collapse of life as I knew it, slowly losing my pulse with each year that passed. Six years later, I am finally living in the freedom and healing I needed to start talking.

Bear with me as I attempt to tell you this story. These events from 6 years ago were shoved deep down inside, left in the dark, and forgotten. Over time, the wounds have calloused and my heart has grown numb, unable to fully pump life into my spirit. In that season, my voice was stripped from me and I felt like I was unable to speak. I lost my identity and my sense of purpose. And although I’m still the middle of the storm trying to regain my confidence, I am hopeful. In 2014, I planted a church with some of my closest friends. We all attended the same youth group and decided this was a great journey to take on together. From the very beginning, it was chaotic. We had all been taught a manipulative way of ministry and toxic style of leadership over the course of 10+ years that was starting to affect our relationships, friendships, and the church itself.

Month after month, year after year – something was always blowing up – failed relationships, estranged friendships, even closed doors that prolonged our full launch as a church, and most importantly: the church wasn’t growing. 20-40 people each Sunday with most being on the leadership team. It was a revolving door, gaining 2 and losing 2 more the following week. As leaders, our lives were not our own. The pastor was heavily involved in our relationships and tried to control curfews, dates, and what we did in our free time. He belittled us and groomed us from an early age into believing he was the ultimate authority, even above our own parents. When our friends would choose to leave this church, they were exiled from our lives for good – as we were forbidden from speaking to them because it was disloyal to the church and to him, a cult like culture. We were constantly told to “shut up, sit down” and blindly follow, with blind loyalty. I listened because I had given him the role of a father, with a tangled mess of a best friend and a pastor. I shared my deepest pains with him and heard some of his in return. He was available and present in my adolescence, always consistent. As the years passed and I became an adult, I started feeling uncomfortable with the loyalty he was requiring from me. I was told I couldn’t date my now husband because he had left the church. I was asked to choose between him or the church, and in the first of many attempts to manipulate me into staying, I was promised an advancement within the ministry if I stayed.

After a couple of months, I decided that I desperately needed out. I was in my early 20s and the pastor continued to treat me like the 15 year old girl he had original met, controlling every move. I shared my decision to leave in hopes of walking away in peace and was shut down and told I was childish, receiving condescending remarks that I would never reach my full potential elsewhere – basically that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. In his own words, he was the closest thing to Jesus I had on this earth. I had seen how he treated other individuals (pastors and friends) who left and I tried my best to avoid that happening to me. In this season, I was what he would call a “hot mess”, being in one of the most broken states of my life – having lost a relationship I thought was end game for me & walking away from a ministry I had known for 8 years. I was drinking every weekend, almost blacking out, ending up in poor situations, and having to call my family members to come pick me up in the middle of the night. I’m not condemning this lifestyle or judging anyone else for it, but it was only a coverup for the pain I didn’t want to face. And even in this state, the pastor attempted once again to make me stay by promising to ordain me as a pastor, something he knew I desired.

Shortly after gaining the courage to leave, my friends began trusting me with their experiences with him and all hell broke loose. I was not prepared to learn of the abuse that had occurred right in front of my eyes. Because of my close relationship with this pastor, I began putting all the pieces together. It was like an unfinished puzzle with half told truths. With each new piece of information I learned, I felt like I was buried deeper and deeper in despair. I filled in the missing gaps and timelines of each event. This pastor, the same man I had respected, trusted, and looked to for guidance on my walk with God, had sexually abused young men, and all the stories were the same – at sleepovers while the young men were unconscious. There was never any real consequences or repentance, and even though I spoke up and shared it with the leadership at the church, I hit many dead ends – mostly because he was doing “damage control” (telling his version first, twisting the truth, tugging at heart strings, and disqualifying any information I shared, including bashing my character). My purpose in finally sharing this story is not to focus too much on the “he said/she said” stories, but to share my journey of anger, unforgiveness, and now healing during this traumatic experience.

I had never felt so silenced, so alone, and so anxious. I was filled with anxiety just to go out in public, with fear of running into someone from this church. I lost my entire community and “family” because one man said I was lying and tainted my character. No one asked me to meet so I could share my accusations face to face. The calls simply stopped and the unfollows on social media began. People that I had cried with, prayed for/with, shared my struggles with, listened to theirs – simply stopped answering and disappeared. I was forced to find new friends, a new community to join and it took awhile to find a church and a leadership I could wholeheartedly trust. Thank God for our pastors at Union Houston who have been nothing but understanding, patient, and willing to walk with me as I sorted through this mess.

In this process, I eventually learned to forgive and “let go”. As simple as that sounds, it is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I had to accept that this man was also a child of God, and just how I receive grace from God, he would too. And I don’t say this because I agree with this concept. My humanness does not. I decided that forgiveness was for ME. I was tired of living my life full of bitterness and anger. It affected my marriage, my parenting, and yes, how I acknowledged God. I couldn’t fathom that He would allow this and not warn me or not protect my friends from being abused. I accepted that there was nothing I could do unless I wanted to be accused of being messy. Although I let it go and day by day stopped talking about this situation, my distance from God widened. I went through the motions, showing up to church, serving for a few years, joining small groups, and even listening to worship music – but none of it fixed or changed the hole and emptiness I fell inside. I felt helpless and stuck.

My entire adulthood (plus adolescence from the age of 11) had been marked by a friendship with this God. I knew how to pray, I knew how to lift my hands high, I knew how to run church services with my eyes closed, but nothing prepared me for the anger and distrust that bubbled up inside of me towards God.

Stay tuned for part two!

with love,
Leslie