A revolution is coming. A resistance is being mounted. A reformation is on its way. And it will fly in on the wings of empathy, as the world—sick of accepting abuse from authoritarian institutions—schools the church. Many of us in the church eagerly await the arrival of this day! And yet, still too many cannot see the need for it. Sigh.
As the old saying goes, “Evil triumphs when good men do nothing.” And it is ironic that it’s usually women’s voices that must finally speak up, when all the men, often very good men, have remained silent for too long. I concede that I too have been a ‘good man’ who has too often stayed silent. Lord, give me courage.
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Let me tell you a story. I can remember sitting in a meeting with another man, a Christian leader, a good man at that, but the only trouble was he was following a narrative. He was going with the institutional flow. Everybody was at that time. Not that any of his challenges did me any harm; God worked for my good and for his purposes. But it was an uncomfortable and an unjust 90 minutes. There is no question that spiritual abuse occurred in this meeting. I came away under no false apprehension, knowing and accepting where I stood, but the confusion, guilt and shame were telling—and these feelings lingered for days and into the weeks.
This is why spiritual abuse is so subtle. Here I was telling myself that my confusion, my guilt, and my shame were caused by my sin. That’s been the narrative against survivors of abuse—they are the ones who have sinned, or they have an ‘identity’ problem, i.e. it is their weakness! No; they’re just feeling the burden of a sin done to them, with no way out of the lonely condemnation they feel. I did the best I could in this season, but it wasn’t good enough that everyone remained silent and stuck with the groupthink.
It’s only years afterwards that we even recognise how much harm is done in one meeting where a person who’s been on the receiving end of abuse is further abused by a pastor believing a narrative who then admonishes the one who was abused. Spiritual abuse without even knowing it. Spiritual abuse for my own good. Sorry, I’m not buying it. There is a big difference between correction that motivates better performance and correction that shames.
I am so thankful that, even though these were the worst days of my life, I had already survived about the worst grief the common human experience could provide, twelve years previously. Grief has been a most valuable training ground in preparation for spiritual abuse.
I’m so thankful that I had the support of an excellent psychologist at the time. This therapist framed reality for me. Yes, reality. This person heard my excusing of others, saw my heart, took me at my word, and told me how it was. Profoundly simple, but tellingly necessary.
The way I am geared, and the way many survivors of abuse are also geared, is we think it’s our fault. And we stay in that lane. “It must have been me; that’s what I’m being told.” Somehow in this, the community around us believes what we are believing, and little support is given, and we suffer alone. And there is no care in that. Only more confusion, guilt and shame. And so perpetuates the cycle.
The confusion, and the guilt, and the shame should be an important cue.
The narcissist never truly allows themselves to feel these things; they project these things onto others. And it is significantly worse when good people, people who are not narcissistic, begin to believe a narrative that is just wrong; a narrative that is spun by the narcissist. It is easier to go with the flow, there are less feathers ruffled that way, because good people want to be good people.
But such good people are not often good defenders of those in weak situations.
Here are some hints on what to look for when we encounter someone who is suffering. We must remember that the narcissist never suffers, though they may feign suffering. Being master manipulators, they will hoodwink just about everybody.
But if someone is genuinely suffering constantly, we can believe that person. They’re probably not putting it on. There is a way we can tell whether a person is putting on suffering for a show. You cannot give someone who is suffering what they want, because their problems can’t be fixed that way.
In other words, there is a certainty to the suffering. Genuine suffering, like grief and trauma, cannot easily be alleviated. If ever you are the source of alleviating someone’s suffering, i.e. that alleviation depends on you alone, it may be manipulation and not suffering in that person that you’re dealing with. (You have to be careful though, because if someone receives genuine care, it can alleviate suffering in that moment.) The polarising exception to this is in the reverse—someone who is surviving abuse cannot change the one crucial factor, the behaviour of their abuser, and this is both tantalising and agonising. But for one factor—the stopping of the abuse—life could be significantly better, even sustainable. But the pattern narcissistic abuser never changes.
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My dilemma has so often been, do I protect the people who have done abusive things to me or do I expose these experiences? It’s taken me a long while to realise that it’s not about protecting people who do the abuse. It’s about doing all I can to stop the abuse now! (Even if I don’t have a lot of impact.) That’s what God wants. God’s not after protecting egos. God’s after the protection of the vulnerable, and of people who find themselves in vulnerable situations. The effect of vulnerability is humility, and God’s heart is close to the humble. That’s God’s prerogative.
If we do the wrong thing, we do the wrong thing. We repent. It’s simple. But abusers don’t play by those rules. They defy God.
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