First and foremost, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jessie, and I write on this blog. It’s been a while, but I’m still alive, kicking, and ranting, albeit less online than what used to get me in trouble. I hope you’re ready for a somewhat deep, somewhat angry, somewhat theological, and finally confronted thought process.
As I grew up, I believed that my church was perfect. We had a good preacher, a great songleader collection, a strong youth group (until we hit high school), good youth ministers (although the way we went through them should have been a red flag to me)… we had it all. We even had the obligatory “church grandpa,” the one old man whose pockets always held candy for theyoungesters and whom you never saw without a child in his arms.
In July of 2001, just before my junior year of high school, we got an automated message from our preacher that went out to the whole congregation regarding a church “family meeting” the upcoming Sunday night. Somehow, I knew it had something to do with my best friend’s family. (Not sure where that feeling came from, but it was correct.) Her dad had recently been made an elder, yet as we arrived at the building that night, they were obviously absent.
One of the elders got up and read a statement from my best friend, in which she shared that Papa Gerald – yes, the infamous church grandpa – had molested her when her parents were out of town.
As the elders contacted current and previous members, they told us, it was discovered that he had been practicing this behavior for over twenty years.
Afterwards, they split up the youth group guys and gals by gender, to make sure we were ok. However, I don’t remember anything they told us that night. What I remember is what I heard various people whispering about in the foyer later on – apparently, people thought that my friend had been lying, and that there was some sort of conspiracy out against Gerald. I was dumbfounded and livid. Not nearly as much, though, as I was when something else was revealed to me during my college years:
The elders had discouraged the (many, many, many) affected families from pressing charges.
Now, I am not foolish; I understand the consequences that come from church legalities, beyond the bad press. But let me again quote the Founder of the church, as I did in a previous post:
…Whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.
It wasn’t until I came to college and dated a guy who noticed certain behaviors and reactions of mine that I acknowledged that anything had happened to me as a child. And after months of counseling, I came to forgive Gerald for what he’d done.
As much as I have tried, however, I have not forgiven the elders.
Now the overseer is to be above reproach, faithful to his wife, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not given to drunkenness, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. He must manage his own family well and see that his children obey him, and he must do so in a manner worthy of full respect. (If anyone does not know how to manage his own family, how can he take care of God’s church?)
I quote this text for two reasons.
(1) A little-known fact is that, although Gerald’s son and son’s family lived with him, he had little contact with his grandchildren. Apparently his misconduct had begun long before his association with my church. This should have been brought to light, and he should never have been given the responsibility of eldership. Thee were people in the church who knew about him, and I also hold them responsible for what happened.
(2) To be quite frank, our elders are loaded, financially speaking. In case you can’t tell from our lavish building (located just up the road from a swank country club in a ritzy part of town), all you have to do is look at their homes, clothes and cars. I would bet that the combined costs of our elders’ (and families’) vehicles, attire, and homes could feed a third-world country for a year. (But that’s just me, and my experience of having been to a third-world country.) I’ve always been slightly biased against rich people, but especially those in the church. At a typical Sunday service, there are not only the rich elders and families, but also people who cannot pay their bills that month. This should not be!
All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need.
I’m well aware that few (if any) churches put this into practice, but I can affirm that the congregation in which I grew up certainly does not! I have learned more ways to sugarcoat foolish spending and bad attitudes towards others at my home church than anywhere else (besides my soon-to-be alma mater, that is).
Now I am 23 and married, and will someday have children of my own. I will probably be an active part of a local group of the Church, but will still carry my paranoia with me. When an elder picks up my little girl, how can I trust him? How do I know that this church family, like my home church family, doesn’t have these same dirty secrets? How will I know if it is safe for my kids to spend an afternoon at someone else’s home? Where can I find a church body that is open and honest about their sins, as we are commanded to be? It is disheartening to think that it simply doesn’t exist. But that is my experience; that is all I know.
In the event that this post makes it back to someone from my home church:
I am disappointed and let down by your dishonesty. I am, to this day, shocked that you value your children so little that you would seek the reputation of yourselves to the local community over their well-being. I am afraid for children around the state, who might run into Gerald in ignorance. It makes me incredibly angry that you, elders, are called to protect and guide your flock, and yet you let something this severe go without any consequence beyond, “Oh, we’re keeping tabs on him and letting churches know about him.” I cannot believe that, as parents, you actually encouraged others not to do whatever it took to protect their children.
But also know that I love you. I love the spiritual guidance that God blessed me with through you as I grew up. I love the leadership opportunities I was given, the chances to flourish in my spiritual gifts. I love that you are such a trusting group of people. But don’t be trusting to a fault. God calls us to forgive, but not to be foolish. We are called to watch after children, not to let things destroy their future. Please, especially you elders, step up and take responsibility. Acknowledge that you failed – after all, you are human! It’s to be expected! Sweeping this under the rug is the worst thing you could have done, especially in the eyes of those of us who were affected. You have contributed to my cynicism, to my paranoia, to the way I will forever view elders, particularly with regards to my future children. Please know that I love you, and because I love you, I expected – and expect – better from you.
