Broken Road Revivals

Jeremy found himself in need of a revival. His heart was hard and he was angry. Boy, can I relate. As I have struggled to move past the clergy abuse that seemed to permeate every area of my life, the hardest thing to overcome was other well-meaning believers who would say, “Can’t you just get over it?” or “Why did you let him do that to you?” or my favorite, “Are you STILL talking about that?”. Yep, it’s always going to be a part of me now. Like it or not, it’s called a testimony, duh. The best part now though, is not what was done, but what has been UN-DONE.

Reading through the stories of other survivors helped, but one survivor in particular was able to phrase what he did in a way that I never could. I’ve written about it here and here. When I read these words to my husband he thought ~I~ wrote them because he and I have talked so many times about what has happened.

“When he told me I had “deep spiritual gifts” and that he was learning from me, I hoped he was discerning something about me that I couldn’t see in myself. I missed that he was pulling out all the stops to make me emotionally dependent on him. When he admired my outfit or the way I styled my hair, I was appreciative of his kind words. What I failed to see was his leering at me. When he asked probing questions about my deepest insecurities, I divulged childhood wounds, believing he needed to know intimate information to provide better counsel. I didn’t see that he was exploiting my trusting nature for his own pleasure. When he shared his own personal information with me, telling me his wife wasn’t interested in theological conversations and that God had brought me to him to fill a gap in his life, I felt sorry for him and flattered that he would choose me to be his sounding board, and emotionally bound to him. Yet, he was abusing my compassion. When he tried to convince me that my husband and children were abandoning me, yet promised me that he never would, I accepted his words as truth, because he was a man of God. I was blind to the fact that he was crafting a story wherein I was his main character. I missed all the signs that he was grooming me—breaking down my defenses by gradually and methodically desensitizing me to inappropriate behavior by using warmth, flattery, secrets and abusive spiritual language So when he slipped the first of many sexual comments into a conversation, I thought I misunderstood him. Pastors don’t say things like that, do they? But I did the most dangerous thing I could have done: Nothing” Survivor Girl

A C.A.S. (clergy abuse survivor) tends to take one step forward and two steps back in this macabre dance of faith after the abuse. For me, I struggled so much with the anger I felt toward this man, and towards the God who’d allowed it to happen in the first place and eventually toward other believers who had no idea how to handle the wreckage that was left behind in me.

 

Jeremy credits many people along the way who kind of pulled his dingy along after the death of his wife when he just didn’t have the strength to row.

That’s kind of how I was too…there are too many to list, and you’ll meet them from time to time as I blog, but this one pastors wife (she lives in Pennsylvania now) and I were in a local coffee shop and I was pouring out my heart to her. I really must describe the scene. Keep in mind I had gone from wearing the LONG dresses and long hair to now really tight jeans, to this rocker chick kind of hair and I was wearing at this moment a rolling stones t-shirt with the tongue hanging out (I’m surprised I didn’t get something pierced during this time period) and these little black cut off motorcycle boots (which I still have and love btw). I remember telling her somewhat bitterly that it didn’t matter what I wore. I could have been wearing a burka and he’d have still come after me so what difference did ANY of it make. She was so patient and calm with me. She was never shocked by my behavior or dress, and trust me at that time I was trying hard to shock, I was so wounded. She told me that when I was first saved I swung really hard towards one side (Legalism? Moralism?) and now I was swinging equally as hard in the other direction, but that she was confident that I would land exactly where I was supposed to, exactly in the middle. She was right; I think I am rapidly approaching the middle. Thanks Cindy. J

Jeremy’s hard heart broke, not in the secluded cabin where he planned to submit his hardened heart to God after fasting and praying, but in the car on the drive home after listening to the song he wrote during his honeymoon with his wife, Walk by Faith. Isn’t that just like God, to thwart OUR plans? The words sank in to his heart, and they sink into mine. The point is this: You don’t give up, in your anger, in your despair, in your anguish, in your self-pity, in your whatever…

You STILL reach towards the ONLY ONE who can DO anything about ANY of it. As Jeremy’s song says that broken road? It prepares His will for you, and really, would you have it any other way?