Part 12 - No Attempt to Understand

In the summer between semesters of missionary training, we went “home” to Wisconsin for the summer. The break as a whole was difficult, though I did find a lot of rest in being back at Redeemer. One event does stand out as a negative Redeemer experience, though, and it was the day I opened up to Pastor P about the abuse I had started to process while in training. I started crying and confessed that I’d been having a very emotional pregnancy, but what I was trying to say was that I had learned our baby was a girl, and I was terrified of having a relationship with her similar to my relationship with my mom. He assumed it was hormones, because his wife had a lot of hormonal sadness during her own pregnancies. After that, he didn’t ask my story; he assumed that the abuse I was referencing would have been my father being angry. Again, this was because his wife’s father was that way. I explained some of what it was through tears, but he has yet to understand the depth of what I went through in being raised by a mother with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, or the spiritual wreckage I experienced as a result of my father and the cults he forced me to attend.

Fast forward to the summer’s end and our senior semester. My daughter was born 1 ½ months before graduation came, and the pregnancy depression lifted, but I still had my plate full with things I needed to work through. I had started to wonder why God had given me the parents he did, since it was his job as a “father” to protect me. I looked down at my dear, sweet baby and felt that I would never willingly allow her to be abused like I was. I knew that it was my job to be a mama bear, so I was confused. We knew, at that point, that I had too much to heal from to continue on with the mission. I was filled with guilt and relief at the same time when we made the decision. Pastor P said to just stay with him and his wife until we were back on our feet, and that’s what we did.

We spent a few months at their house, and during that time, I became an agnostic. David and I wept together; on my part, because I knew he never would have married me if 1) he knew I wasn’t going to be a missionary and 2) he knew I wasn’t the same religion. He told me that while those things were true of him at the time we wed, they were because of his own immaturities and misunderstandings, but I didn’t care. The two most important things to him while looking for a wife were gone now that he had one, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise. We have always been best friends, so faking it was never an option. I was always taught that people who walked away from Christianity were compromising and weak, but considering that it was the hardest thing I ever did, I see that this is a brainwashing technique, used to scare people from thinking for themselves. I still showed up at church sometimes, because of all the pressure I felt.

After we moved out of Pastor P’s house, I saw that I needed to start weeding out triggers of abuse in my life. As far as my parents went, the only questions were when could I find the strength, how would I do it, and how would I survive the repercussions? I’ve written up that story elsewhere. I did it and I’m relieved of the stress that relationship brought to me, and I also saw spiritual matters much more clearly after that. I am no longer an agnostic. I follow Jesus, plain and simple. But then there was the matter of Redeemer. The church I loved so much still triggered a lot of memories of past churches. So I decided I needed to take an indefinite amount of time away to heal. I decided to continue participating in “church” outside of the boxed church building and services on Sunday morning. Unfortunately, my parent’s cult (which, at first glance, appears as just a very conservative church), an institution in which my father is an associate pastor, began to contact Redeemer about “conflict resolution” with my parents and what they saw as my unhealthy spiritual state. I was quickly understanding that my dad was using them as backup to his bullying ways. They decided to get Pastor P involved, and he bought it all without asking me my side of the story. Pastor Brian, my dad’s boss, ignoring my multiple requests to contact me through David only, asked Pastor P to do a counseling session with me and pass back to him any information he wanted. Pastor P called to schedule; David picked up the phone and I could tell what was going on. I almost threw up. David set up an appointment, hung up, and came to tell me. I reminded him that this was a serious, serious violation of the boundaries we had set for Brian together, and David called Pastor P back to inform him. Pastor P said ok, and that he would ask Brian why he never mentioned the boundaries. Brian’s side of the story is that we misunderstood, but he never clarified what he did mean by that. Pastor P still didn’t understand what happened there, as far as I know (remember, their cult looks like just a conservative church), and I’m not sure how it would be appropriate under any circumstances, but he asked if he could meet with me anyway to see how I was doing. I agreed.

The meeting was a disaster. Up until that point, my healing was progressing well. I was seeing God more clearly, journaling prayers, and able to read my Bible without triggers. When I tried to explain to Pastor P that I was doing well and taking a break from box church, he told me that I was “reacting instead of responding.” Let me remind you that this man has never even asked about my story. To this day, I still believe that he has no clue as to the depth of my prolonged childhood trauma being anything more than having angry parents. I have PTSD, but apparently taking a break from my triggers was not a wise decision. The meeting itself became a trigger, and I began to cry so hard as I tried to explain my decision to him that I couldn’t even talk. He continued on as if I could talk, and started asking multiple questions that I was too choked up to answer. I squeaked out “I’m sorry; I can’t talk,” but he continued to expect an answer from me. I looked at David in desperation, knowing that Pastor P simply misunderstood but that David knew exactly what I was thinking. Pastor P saw me look at David and said, “No, you can’t expect him to help you. You need to answer me yourself.” I continued to try to calm down enough to where I could speak, but it was clear that was not going to happen. I finally managed an apology and rushed to the bathroom, where I sobbed in the fetal position on the floor until David entered and told me that Pastor P had left. I asked what they had talked about, and wasn’t surprised that Pastor P had made another comment about my hormones. Let me be clear. Hormones do not result in me being delusional. They make me feel even sadder than I already am. That’s all. The wounds were reopened that afternoon, perhaps made even deeper than they were before, and I knew that even if I could go back to church again, it would never be that church. It wasn’t anger that caused these feelings, but a deep feeling of being unsafe. David continued to go, and Pastor P asked how I was doing whenever they talked. Apparently, he also made a remark about how he knew people who had recovered from sexual abuse faster than I was able to get over what had happened to me—despite never trying to understand what that really was! At the time David relayed that to me, I was crushed. Now I just feel like it is absolutely pointless to still try to go to him.

Similar to how I denied that my parents’ abuse, I have denied until recently that I was abused at Redeemer. It all boils down to the fact that, other than the way he has treated my recovery, Pastor P is such a nice guy. I was protecting him because he had good intentions, but I know now that protecting abusers isn’t my job. I also can clearly label him as a spiritual abuser after his recent sermon on women, not for his opinions alone, but because of how he presented his opinions as God’s opinions. However, I think if someone were to point that out to him, he is a perceptive enough person to change that pattern. If you want to try, feel free, but I’m finally ok with the fact that I am not responsible for his behaviour. I’ll continue doing what I need to do to recover.