When a church implodes
Jon Sully
7 Minutes
Processing betrayal, grief, and the wreckage left behind
This one’s going to be a little different than usual. I’m writing much more off-the-cuff here and, while I usually would advocate spending real time reflecting and ruminating before writing anything, I haven’t done that here. That said, I’m also not going to be calling out specifics or getting into details — I don’t know enough to do so in the first place.
Ultimately I just want to put some words on a page to capture how I’m feeling right now. Maybe for my future self. Maybe just for the sake of getting them out. Maybe because putting words to feelings is, itself, a way of realizing them.
The church I’ve been attending for five years now has, in the span of the last three days… totally imploded. I don’t want to overstate it, but this church has thousands of regular members and quite a large overall footprint (it’s very much a “big church”), and I genuinely don’t know that it will continue. That an organization that large could go from normal to, I don’t know, potentially dissolving in the span of a few days is just wild. Kalika and I both feel completely blindsided and crushed. We have a lot of emotions.
The short of it is that there’ve been some extremely serious abuse allegations made and, further, that these alleged abuses have been going on for years while the leadership of the church has mostly quashed them… while keeping alleged people in their roles; roles which directly expose them to potential abuse targets 😞. Several individuals have come forward with testimonies. The whole thing is pretty gnarly. Several leaders have resigned, my understanding is that a large portion of the staff have resigned (on an immediate basis), and I genuinely don’t think there’s enough staff to put on a service on Sunday (whether or not they ought to, ethically). So… imploded.
I want to make it clear that I believe justice and truth are the highest priority in this situation. I mentioned the church not being able to put on services because it feels like a metric for how absolutely unfathomable this turn of events is — and how fast it’s occurred. Not because the church continuing to be able to run services is the highest priority. It’s not. I’m frankly quite okay with the church being on pause while things are figured out, I just wouldn’t have believed you if you told me last week that our church would fall off a proverbial cliff in a matter of 48 hours.
Nonetheless, I hope that a prompt, deep investigation occurs and extremely heavy charges come down on anyone involved with this situation. Jails exist for a reason and I certainly believe in those. I do still have faith in our justice system.
Regardless of whether or not the church (as an organization) recovers and continues over the coming months, the reality of today is that the community of individuals, families, and friends that made up the church is shattered. I know of many that have made note of their departure, though I’m sure there are many more that will depart quietly. At this point I don’t think Kalika and I will be returning. Even now, days later, the handling and response from the church in the face of these claims does not represent the kind of leadership we want to be shepherded by.
Anyway, I mostly just wanted to write out some of the things I’ve been feeling in the very-recent wake of this. Here goes.
I feel hurt and betrayed by our church’s leadership team and their integrity. I know “hurt” and “betrayed” are essentially what everyone says when something like this happens, but I think it’s true for everyone involved. I don’t think it’s a platitude. We had a great deal of trust and respect for the upper leadership of our church. We believed them. We had faith in their actions representing the best interest of everyone at the church. We were certain that, in the face of moral decisions, they would act righteously. We believed, and were told, that church leadership roles are held to higher standards — we believed they were living those higher standards. By all given accounts thus far, that was not true. To be duped in such a deep part of your heart is to realize that what was once sanctuary is now a dagger.
Jesus, I pray that you help us to cope as you did with Judas.
I feel deep, crushing sadness for the victims, their families, and the reverberating impact these events will have in the lives of so many. With anger shouting out of a painful place, I want to scream “THIS IS NOT WHAT IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!”, all the while knowing that for those involved, that will probably come across as a baseless claim. That, too, is despairing. I pray for healing for those involved. I pray for mending of souls, hearts, minds, and bodies. And, most of all, I pray that those looking at the church thinking “so this is what your God is about?” come to know God’s love in the future. That they come to understand, at some point, that these events weren’t a depiction of love in any sense, but in hate.
Jesus, I pray that you would help us to grieve, lament, and hurt together over these acts, as you wept over Lazarus.
I feel heartbroken by the many community ties that have been broken. Heartbroken for the relationships severed and friendships ended in mere hours. For the community itself suddenly splintering and splitting. I’ve been playing on our worship team with so many wonderful, good people for five years. Some of those people have been with the church over twenty. As most have announced their departure, I wonder when I might see them again. I lament over the knowing that I will never play worship music with that particular set of individuals and spirits again. That’s painful. I imagine that everyone who served on any team throughout the church is feeling similarly. It isn’t to say that we can’t put in efforts to remain connected — we can. But it is to say that our particular community combination, with all of its own special flavors, talents, and personalities, has ended abruptly and without warning. There are thousands of good people that didn’t deserve any of this.
Jesus, I pray that you would help us to remain connected for your mission, which is bigger than any single church, as you did at the last supper.
I feel a terrible awe in watching these things unfold through social media. Like watching the first nuclear bomb go off, I’ve been in awe of the destructive potential I’ve witnessed. And I’ll surely choose my words carefully here, but supporting victims of abuse and seeking full, extensive justice for them is a separate concern from inflaming a virality war on algorithm-driven media platforms. The first is righteous, the second is not. I believe testimonies should arise. I believe that truth should be surfaced. I do not believe that innocent families should be put up on the stake before the town without any implication or reason as to why. I do not believe that silence implicates guilt. I do not believe that anyone should be forced to give a statement on social media. A part of me doesn’t even believe Christians should be on social media because of the innate properties of the medium. To participate in someone sharing a painful testimony which brings forth big questions is great. To participate in a witch hunt without basis is damning. Slow down. Slow. Down. Justice is beyond time, and as Christians, we should remain mindful that regardless of our justice systems we’ve built here on Earth, we all serve an arbiter much more powerful and timeless. Consult Him on your role in these things. I almost guarantee He’s going to tell you that hopping on Facebook and recording a selfie-video calling out people that were unaware and uninvolved is not glorifying to Him.
Jesus, I pray that you would help us to seek truth with wisdom, as you did when you stood silent before Pilate.
And finally, I feel angry at the official response from our church and senior leadership. At a moment where it feels like the most obvious path is to acknowledge the problems, step down while a proper investigation occurs, and give the community a chance to continue with still-trusted leaders in the wake of such an event, none of that has happened. No official statements have been released, an odd, vague ‘apology’ video was posted then deleted within hours, questions have been hushed and ignored, and leadership is claiming that it’s all simply a ‘smear campaign’. The involved leadership has chosen themselves over saving the community that now shatters, morally unable to stay under this leadership.
Jesus, I pray that you would help us to stand for justice without becoming hardened, as you did when you rebuked the Pharisees.
When a church implodes, it may as well have exploded. Like a physical bomb, some walk away and some don’t. But all involved have been burned, and many will have life-long scars. The dust will settle, but the landscape will never look the same. Some will find new places to worship, others may never return. And for many, faith itself will be harder to hold.