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Understanding spiritual and religious abuse in the context of intimate partner violence

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Understanding spiritual and religious abuse in the context of intimate partner violence

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Understanding spiritual and religious abuse in the context of intimate partner violence

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This paper used evidence and literature gathered from a range of sources. A literature review was conducted on research examining spiritual and religious abuse in the context of intimate partner violence. Several databases were searched for peer-reviewed literature using AIFS Catalogue Plus. Grey literature and online resources from peak bodies (e.g. ANROWS) and other organisations (e.g. InTouch) were obtained from sources including the Australian Policy Observatory and Google.

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In the last several years, our society has become increasingly attuned to the prevalence of abuses of power and the incredible damage that is all-too-often inflicted by the powerful. Since some of this movement has been accompanied by our culture's allergic reaction to some legitimate authority, we may be tempted to react against the reaction-by emphasizing authority and submission, "trusting" and not questioning leaders. This would be a grave mistake, however.

Michael Kruger, in his recent book Bully Pulpit: Confronting the Problem of Spiritual Abuse in the Church (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2022), offers penetrating insights into the devastation of spiritual abuse that Christian churches-ours included-face. I'm guessing that a good number of those reading this post can relate to my own experience: I've witnessed abusive church leaders firsthand, and I've listened to the experiences of friends and acquaintances. Sadly, some readers may recognize their current situation in what follows below; if you do, I hope that (as has happened to people I've shared this with before), you find the material helpful and hope-giving. On the other hand, other readers may find this material foreign to their experience; if that's you, please still take it seriously. There will likely come a day when you will be called upon to support victims of spiritual abuse-or perhaps face it yourself.

With our emphasis on servanthood, community, self-sacrifice, and discipleship, Anabaptists should be at the forefront of Christians who are known for caring deeply about this issue and for exemplifying healthy, non-abusive spiritual leadership. It is with this goal in mind that I will summarize key points from Kruger's book-while encouraging readers to go and read the entire book themselves!

One further note: When I first read Kruger's book, I remember feeling so grateful for the pastors I have at my church currently. They are men marked by genuine humility, servanthood, and gentleness. I thank God for them.

First of all, not everything is spiritual abuse: being intimidating, unfriendly, or confronting people about sin isn't abuse. This is Kruger's definition of spiritual abuse:

Spiritual abuse is when a spiritual leader-such as a pastor, elder, or head of a Christian organization-wields his position of spiritual authority in such a way that he manipulates, domineers, bullies, and intimidates those under him as a means of maintaining his own power and control, even if he is convinced he is seeking biblical and kingdom-related goals.

Spiritual abuse, Kruger notes, is considerably more harmful than, for example, an emotionally abusive employer, because the person abusing you is someone who represents God, and is acting almost as though God is abusing you.

Kruger lists three elements of spiritual abuse:

1. "Spiritual abuse involves someone in a position of spiritual authority." It's not simply a fellow church member being emotionally abusive; it's a church leader weaponizing their authority, the authority of the church, and the authority of Scripture against someone in their charge.

2. "Spiritual abuse involves sinful methods of controlling and domineering others." Spiritually abusive leaders employ a variety of tactics: they are often expert manipulators, they shift blame, lash out and accuse others, destroy people's reputation, and are hyper critical.

3. "Spiritual abusers seem to be building God's kingdom (but are really building their own)." They want to control the staff, vision, and direction; their own power and people's loyalty to them are paramount. But at the same time, the leader "may be convinced he is building God's kingdom, not his own." "If people get run over, then that's because they got in the way of the great kingdom work he's doing." (A notorious example of this is Mark Driscoll's infamous "pile of dead bodies" remark.) Abusive leaders usually are doing kingdom work, and their ministries do look blessed. But instead of judging by the fruit of the Spirit, onlookers (and those involved) too often allow ministry "success" to whitewash sinful behavior.

Kruger cites this haunting line from Johnson and VanVonderen: "It's possible to become so determined to defend a spiritual place of authority, a doctrine or a way of doing things, that you wound and abuse anyone who questions, or disagrees, or doesn't 'behave' spiritually the way you want them to."

If we're tempted to think that all this talk of "spiritual abuse" is a modern concern raised by "snowflake" types, we need to think again. Warnings against spiritual abuse are a critical part of the foundation of NT teaching on leadership. Kruger reminds us that Jesus "spends an inordinate amount of time critiquing bad leaders ... and calling his disciples to the better way." Kruger points to four key passages:

1. Mark 10:42-43: Gentile rulers, Jesus says, "lord it over them [κατακυριεύουσιν], and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you." Jesus' hearers would have known exactly what he meant: economic oppression, unjust use of violence, using power for personal enrichment, arrogance and superiority. Abusive rulership was commonplace. But Jesus explicitly, emphatically does not want his disciples to be abusive leaders.

2. 1 Peter 5:2-3: Peter, speaking to church leaders, exhorts them to "shepherd the flock of God that is among you," and then employs the same word Jesus used to forbid gentile-style leadership: "not domineering [κατακυριεύοντες] over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock." Pastors are to lead not by coercion or by manipulation but by example and discipleship. This does not do away with their authority (e.g. Heb 13:17); but it does reshape it.

3. 1 Tim 3:3: Paul writes that church "overseers" must not be "a bully but gentle" (CSB).

4. Titus 1:7: Once again, Paul stresses that an overseer "must be blameless, not arrogant, not hot-tempered ... not a bully" (CSB).

With these clear exhortations and the example of our Lord, the servant-king, why don't we stop spiritual abuse from happening in our churches?

As Kruger points out, abusive leaders are often Jekyll and Hyde characters: only the victims see the dark side. Time after time, abusive behavior continues unchecked for years, with no one speaking up (or getting attacked if they do-by the leader or even by other loyal church members). We ought to trust good leaders. But one of my pleas to all of us is to never blindly "trust the leaders" to such an extent that we refuse to hear the cries of victims. It is our role as church members to protect our fellow believers and to provide accountability to our leaders. Godly leaders will welcome this.

Kruger explains a few key reasons why spiritual abuse is often unchecked:

1. "Inadequate accountability structure": Victims are silenced or forced to leave. The leader gets to control the narrative, and sometimes the victims themselves are blamed. In a culture of silence (fostered by the leader), the pattern of broken relationships is "often not revealed" to others. When they are mentioned, problems with the leader are often "downplayed and minimized."

2. "Wrong view of depravity": Thinking that so-and-so "could never do this" isn't necessarily true and is a dangerous assumption! All of us are deeply sinful, and none are above the possibility of shocking transgressions. Kruger points to Gladwell's "default to truth theory" (from his Talking to Strangers): We tend to think that people-especially "respectable" people or people we like-are telling the truth and that we'd be good at spotting liars. But we're not. We're particularly bad at accepting a difficult truth about someone when it would rock our world or cause us to lose them as someone we respect. In such cases, it is much easier to believe that a church member is "overly sensitive" than to believe that a beloved leader is a bully. What is needed, Kruger writes, are "truth tellers": people like the child in the story of the emperor's new clothes who has little to gain or lose.

3. "Misunderstanding of grace." In situations of spiritual abuse, Christians can want to flatten out sins. Instead of treating a situation as abusive, where there's damage inflicted by a powerful person on a victim, we would rather call it a "conflict," and talk about how "both sides" didn't handle everything right, but they'll work through it. It is severely damaging and wrong to turn abuse into a "relational conflict." These are two very different matters. Some sins are more heinous than others, and spiritual abuse is one of them. It is a grave misunderstanding of what it means that "we're all sinners" to make abuse victims feel guilty and abuse downplayed.

4. "Improper view of reconciliation": When churches reframe spiritual abuse as a "conflict," they then feel that "they don't need to focus on justice or accountability." Instead, a rushed "reconciliation" process is forced upon the victim, and the abusive leader is able to move on. Dealing with accusations of spiritual abuse necessitates arduous fact-finding work and church discipline. A prayer meeting followed by mutual apologies is a cop-out for truly dealing with behavior Jesus finds reprehensible.

Abusive leaders "employ aggressive and well-orchestrated tactics to keep from being discovered," Kruger writes. They are masters at "flipping the script." An abusive leader's playbook includes the following tactics:

Build a coalition of defenders (and control the narrative).

Insist that proper process wasn't followed. Change the focus to procedural rather than substantive issues.

Claim to be the victim of slander.

Attack the character of the victims.

Tout their own character and accomplishments.

Play the sympathy card.

To quote Gandalf (as Kruger does), "There are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured." Kruger rightly pushes hard against the "get over it and move on" mentality toward victims of spiritual abuse. The effects can be truly devastating.

There are emotional effects, including fear, anger, depression, shame (feeling that it's their fault, or dealing with a tarnished reputation), and PTSD. Tragically, victims of severe spiritual abuse can have their PTSD triggered by even going to a church or hearing a sermon.

There can be physical effects. Kruger describes how the stress / PTSD effects of spiritual abuse can induce long-term health problems-particularly if the victim felt unable to escape, which is often the case in church abuse. Kruger writes that "spiritual abuse is prone to create deep and serious mental scars that in turn can produce long-term physiological consequences." These can range from insomnia and high blood pressure to heart problems, chronic fatigue, and autoimmune conditions.

There are relational effects: Countless relationships can be destroyed. Victims are often driven out of and cut off from their churches. Friends and former churches often are "turned against" the victims, and label them troublemakers. Victims watch others continue to legitimize the abuser. Those who stay claim they want to be "neutral" and not "take sides"-but they are taking a side. Kruger quotes Mullen: "Sometimes supporting the victim means immediately withdrawing support from those who have yet to speak the truth about the abuse and refuse to let the light shine."

There can be spiritual effects. Spiritual abuse often crushes a person's spiritual life, and can call into question their beliefs. Spiritual abuse can lead to doubts about the church and an inability to re-engage even in a healthy church. It can lead to doubts about Christianity: If the church is so corrupt and abusive, is Christianity even true? It can lead to doubts about God: victims may think of God as being like their spiritually abusive leader. (One cannot help but think of Jesus' words in Matt 18:6: "Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea," ESV.) It can lead to doubts about oneself: Spiritual abuse can lead to the "paralyzing combination" of trusting neither oneself nor others-which results in profound isolation.

Kruger concludes with these sobering words (which he backs up by listing the considerable research on the subject): "Anyone who thinks spiritual abuse is a minor problem has not reckoned with the documented devastation."

Kruger lays out structural steps that churches can take to help reduce the likelihood of spiritual abuse. Readers are encouraged to work through his full material on the subject, but here are a few highlights.

1. Prevention: Churches ought to work to keep abusive leaders from gaining power. This means valuing character over competency in potential leaders, valuing teamwork over hierarchy, and valuing accountability over secrecy.

2. Accountability: Churches ought to oversee church leaders once they're in a position of power. This includes limiting their power in various ways, providing real, honest feedback, and gathering independent "truth tellers" around the leader-people who are not "yes-men/women" but will stand up to the leader if need be. Kruger emphasizes that accountability structures need to include women and other groups that may be at greater risk of becoming victims of abuse by powerful leaders. Also, Kruger helpfully-though perhaps counterintuitively-encourages churches not to insist on unanimous decisions. While this may appear to foster unity, it can actually end up silencing dissent.

3. Protection: Churches must care for those who bravely call out abuse. This includes awareness / training on spiritual abuse, setting up processes for dealing honestly and justly with abuse allegations, and providing emotional and spiritual care for victims. (Kruger rightly observes that "sadly, most churches spend more time caring for the abusive pastor than for the victims.)

Spiritual abuse is not something that all of us have experienced. The point of this post and of Kruger's Bully Pulpit is not to make church members suspicious of all spiritual leaders. But spiritual abuse is a serious and devastating problem, and it is something that can impact any church. At some point in our lives, probably most of us will interact with victims of spiritual abuse or become a victim (or even, God forbid, an abuser) ourselves.

Jesus is gentle and lowly in heart, and he calls leaders in his church to follow his example. He cares deeply about his sheep, and he calls all of us to protect those who are vulnerable. Michael Kruger's Bully Pulpit is an excellent resource to help prepare churches to fulfill Jesus' calling.

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Bully Pulpit: On Spiritual Abuse - Think Truth

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In the last several years, our society has become increasingly attuned to the prevalence of abuses of power and the incredible damage that is all-too-often inflicted by the powerful. Since some of this movement has been accompanied by our culture's allergic reaction to some legitimate authority, we may be tempted ...

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Tears of Eden: Supporting survivors of Spiritual Abuse and Religious Trauma

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It took three years to learn about and understand what happened to me and my family at the church we left in 2017. Through my research and reading the work of others, such as Diane Langberg, Wade Mullen, and Chuck DeGroat, I finally had a name for what happened to us. It's called spiritual abuse. This is part of my story.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Since returning from a men's breakfast at the church, Johnny paced from the living room out to the porch. Back and forth. Over and over again. I ignored it for as long as I could and finally pressed him to tell me.

"Come here," he said and motioned for me to follow him onto the porch. The porch is for conversations we don't want the kids to hear. He sat in his chair, lit his cigarette, and took a long draw.

Johnny told me what happened that morning at the church. Our pastor belittled and intimidated the men he speculated had a problem with his recent trip. The pastor used the term "poverty mind-set" to describe the thinking of any men who questioned or envied the spontaneous week-long motorcycle trip he and his wife enjoyed with another pastor couple through Nevada, California, and Oregon. The men hadn't said anything about the pastor's sabbatical trip--a trip paid for by the church. The pastor made sure they never would.

Different emotions came over me as Johnny voiced more concerns. Above all, I was relieved. For more than two years, I ignored, stuffed, disregarded, neglected, then tried to pray away the red flags. After Johnny finished, I told him what I'd held in for too long. We talked back and forth for a while. About what we saw. About what we felt but never said before. About what we didn't want to believe. Then we sat in silence together. Grieved and confused.

Seven months after our conversation on the porch, my family and I left the church we loved and served for eight years. We met with the pastors the first week of March 2017 and told them our decision. It felt strange sitting there across from the pastors, our friends, that way. We communicated our gratefulness to the church, the reasons for our decision, and our sorrow for having to leave.

My family and I were highly involved in the church. Served regularly. Gave faithfully. Led teams. Did small groups. Youth camps. Campus launches. Freedom conference. Community service. Prayer team. Leadership program. Internship.

Eventually, I was on staff for nine months in 2014. My eyes were opened to the culture of the church behind the scenes. Toxic leadership. Bullying. Lack of transparency. No accountability in financial or leadership matters. Fierce loyalty to the institution, the brand, and the leaders.

I prayerfully resigned from my position with the church after nine months. I convinced church leaders and myself that I just wasn't a good fit and couldn't keep up with the high-performance culture of the church. It was partly true. Both of my parents were

terminally ill while I was on staff, but I couldn't be honest about the strain of it. The fast pace and constant change of this kind of "ministry" made it difficult to be broken in any way. An unspoken motto was: Be sorrowful when absolutely necessary, but let it be short-lived and get back to the business of positivity.

I hoped and prayed my feelings about the leaders of our church would change back to what they were before...before I was on staff. Before I knew what I knew. I hoped attending church and serving with my family, without the rigorous demands of staff life, would allow that.

God did that for me. But the red flags didn't go away.

I pushed them aside and focused on the good the church did in the city. I taught Bible studies, mentored others, and built the team who led small groups for women. I served on the prayer and next steps teams and was part of the core group of leaders building a freedom ministry. I prayed my one-on-one conversations with others pointed them to Jesus and gave them a hunger to study God's Word. I told myself my work in the church made a difference.

I didn't talk to others about my concerns, but I prayed fervently for our church leaders. I didn't tell Johnny because I didn't know how, and I wanted to be wrong. This church was the first church we'd attended and served together as a family, and that was important to me. Another reason I told no one is that church leadership taught over and over about the damage caused by gossip and a "critical spirit." I was afraid to dishonor the church or its leaders. Any question, doubt, and healthy criticism were considered dishonoring gossip. To the church, to the leaders, to God. Offenders were reprimanded and shamed, and sometimes removed from leading or serving.

When people I trusted and respected, who loved Jesus, continued to attend, serve, and work for the church, I convinced myself my "rigid personality" caused me to see things that weren't really there. I made myself believe the toxic environment I witnessed when I was on staff had changed. No one else said anything.

"Everything must be fine," I told myself.

In January 2016, I applied for an intense eighteen-month church leadership class that promised to put me on the path to divine growth and help me be all God wanted me to be. I was excited to dive into Systematic Theology and be part of a group of others who wanted to grow.

Within days of the first leadership class, the old warnings came back and new ones emerged. I wasn't wrong and everything was not fine.

Bizarre things happened regularly in our leadership class. The teaching veered from lessons in Systematic Theology into whiteboard diagrams on why we should seek a second income and build a legacy, how to go to our next level, how social media can make or break a platform, and the four competencies of emotional intelligence. It felt more like a multi-level marketing scheme than a theology class.

One Sunday afternoon, our leadership class was given the task of putting up and decorating the Christmas tree in the lobby. Several of us rightly and quietly questioned among ourselves why the leaders had not better organized the long and tedious task. The scissor lift wasn't in place. The greenery wasn't gathered. We didn't have enough spray paint. The ornaments were nowhere to be found. We wanted to do a good job, but we also wanted to be with our families.

Another staff member heard the questions and told other leaders and pastors the group was complaining. In the following week's leadership class, the women were named and scolded by two male team leaders for dishonoring the pastors and church leadership. The accused tried several times to tell what really happened, but were cut off and told not to explain. I raised my hand to say I'd also questioned, but was ignored. The women would be expelled immediately from the leadership class if anything like it happened again.

I saw more and more of the dark underbelly of the toxic church culture through the leadership class, through working closely with staff on special events, and through serving guests brought in from other churches and ministries.

Our eyes were fully opened to the truth once we allowed ourselves to talk freely and honestly about the issues with one another and consider all we knew, saw, and experienced. Our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, the ones outside our church, the ones not within the system who could see clearly, confirmed it.

We could no longer support the church or be part of what was happening there. We left the way they taught us to leave: quietly and quickly.

Because of our involvement in the church, leaving quickly was a challenge. We waited to talk to our children about the troubling issues at the church until after I resigned my role with small groups for women in December 2016.

By the time we talked with them, our oldest daughter only attended sporadically. Our youngest saw problems within the intern program and endured spiritual bullying, and our son was only surprised how long it took us to see what he saw years before. We decided as a family to leave the church and discussed the quietest way to do it.

We thought we left on good terms, because we left the way they taught us to leave. We found out, there is no good way to leave an unhealthy church.

We could never have known what leaving would mean. We witnessed what others endured before us, but because no one talked about it and we never asked, there was no guidance, no pathway, no advice on how to walk it out.

I was unprepared for the intensity of my emotions. The pain of leaving our church, the heartbreak over the abrupt end to so many friendships, and coming to terms with the spiritual abuse, overwhelmed me at times.

We visited new churches but eventually dropped off until the fall of 2018. We found a small church and enjoyed it. We have not been back since the pandemic paused the gatherings. We are still healing, but I can say I am thankful. Through this experience, God stripped away everything unnecessary. Everything I leaned on to make me a "good Christian", and false beliefs, were exposed.

Learning about spiritual abuse opened my eyes to other problems in the Church. We tend to elevate institutions over the people in them, such as churches and marriages. I've learned about other issues and teachings within the Church which cause harm, such as celebrity culture, patriarchy, male-only ordination, spiritual authority, the biblical manhood and womanhood movement, and misogyny. The way many pastors counsel those with mental health issues, chronic illness, or marital issues is problematic. Even still, I love the Church. I love God's people. They are my brothers and sisters; we are family.

Jesus looks at the Church and has compassion, "When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them because they were confused and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." Matthew 9:36

We are confused and don't know it. I want to help people know God's love, especially those who are hurt by the Church. I will keep telling my story and speaking out about it. What I'm most passionate about is pointing others to the True Shepherd. The One who looks on us with compassion, the One who bent low, the One who gave His life for the Church.

Follow hard after Christ, not after Christendom, with its allure and promises.Christendom is not Jesus Christ. Seek for him to be the culture in which you live and move and have your being. -Diane Langberg, Redeeming Power

Read more from Marie at Life Like it Matters

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A Story of Spiritual Abuse - Tears of Eden: Supporting survivors of Spiritual Abuse and Religious Trauma

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Devil's Advocate (1997) Official Trailer - Al Pacino, Keanu Reeves Drama Movie HD

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Last night, Americans United hosted a screening of an important documentary titled "For Our Daughters: Stories of Abuse, Betrayal, and Resistance in the Evangelical Church." The screening was followed by a discussion between AU President and CEO Rachel Laser and Dr. Kristin Kobes Du Mez, whose book Jesus and John Wayne inspired the film.

The film is described as a "timely exploration of the intersection between faith, politics, and women's rights in America" that "honors the brave sexual and spiritual abuse survivors within the church who have shared their stories, and those who have not yet spoken."

Christian Nationalism's patriarchal mindset

Many of the women featured in the film have been speaking out against the patriarchal mindset that permeates so much of Christian Nationalism - a mindset that has filtered down to many conservative evangelical churches where women, despite the key role they play in keeping these churches going, are often treated as second-class citizens or victimized.

"For Our Daughters" raises compelling questions that America's evangelical churches can't afford to ignore. It also provides yet another stark warning about the dangers of Christian Nationalism.

You can watch "For Our Daughters" online for free. And you can find a discussion guide here. (Be aware that the film contains a frank discussion of sexual and spiritual assault.) A recording of the event with Laser and Du Mez is available here.

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A new documentary exposes sexual and spiritual abuse in evangelical churches - Americans United

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"For Our Daughters" raises compelling questions that America's evangelical churches can't afford to ignore.