by John Perrine

If you’ve spent any time online recently, you have likely heard the term: “spiritual abuse.” Christianity Today’s coverage of “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill” has talked about “power, fame and spiritual trauma.” The same’s recent coverage of Bethlehem Baptist Church (which was highly criticized by those who shared their stories of leaving the church with the reporter) refers repeatedly to the issues of “trauma and abuse” and clarifies further that the struggle at the church has been “questions over whether, when, and how Christians might challenge those who say they are hurting—and how they balance calls to show compassion, seek out truth, and repent of sin in such situations.” And of course, this website, #ACNAtoo, has called for an investigation into not only the mishandling of sexual abuse allegations against Mark Rivera, but also the “emotional, physical and spiritual abuse” that has allegedly taken place in the Diocese of the Upper Midwest under Bishop Stewart Ruch III.

Yet inevitably, in raising spiritual abuse, a host of concerns have flooded the “twitter-sphere” (not to mention the in-person conversations taking place in the pews). I’ve seen and heard several. “Aren’t those people just angry and bitter at their church?” “How are pastors supposed to do their job if they’re constantly worried about being accused of ‘spiritual abuse’?” “Couldn’t anyone claim ‘spiritual abuse’ anytime they feel disappointed with their pastor or have a disagreement?” “Isn’t this just the latest manifestation of ‘cancel culture’?”

Interestingly, these seem to be the very concerns highlighted in Christianity Today’s recent coverage of Bethlehem Baptist Church. Some of the conflict at the church has stemmed from comments made by Joe Rigney, president of Bethlehem College and Seminary, in which he argued the case for the “sin of empathy” (you can find the longest version of his explanation in a YouTube conversation he had with Doug Wilson, a controversial figure in his own right for his views on slavery). Rigney wants to distinguish between “compassion” and “untethered empathy.” He notes in the interview with Wilson, “God commands us to be compassionate. He commands us to show sympathy, but people demand empathy, and they regard it as a kind of betrayal if you refuse to join them in their pain, in their grievance.” In contrast to compassion, Rigney argues that if you engage in “untethered empathy,” the danger is “you lose the ability to actually make an independent judgment about anything that they’re saying or doing. In other words, you lose contact with truth.” This concern for the truth has driven many, including Rigney, to fear that if we equip everyday congregants, who may or may not be swayed by the forces of secular culture, with the terminology of “spiritual abuse,” then all pain could be used to invalidate otherwise “truthful” pastoral care and direction.

A BASIC DEFINITION OF SPIRITUAL ABUSE

Rather than avoid the question, I’d like to steer into its concerns. Is this what happens whenever anyone brings up the accusation of “spiritual abuse”?

Let’s begin by establishing the baseline that abuse related to spiritual authority is in fact possible and has repeatedly occurred in recent high profile scandals. It seems difficult to imagine that even Rigney would fail to acknowledge the connection between spiritual authority and abuse in the sexual abuse allegations against Ravi Zacharias and Bill Hybels, or even in the high profile firing of James MacDonald or the resignation of Mark Driscoll. If those concessions could be made, then perhaps we could also note that every one of those scandals included a long struggle of survivors and advocates, often over years of disbelief and dismissal. Thus even if you are concerned that empathy is ruining the opportunity for your pastor to use good spiritual authority in defense of the truth, my first concern for Rigney, or any who resonate with Rigney’s claims, is that when it comes to spiritual abuse, it is easier to dismiss the “truth” of abuse than believe it.

Yet if we resist oppositional logic, we will acknowledge there is a valid wellspring to consider in Rigney’s concern. Spirituality is notoriously difficult to categorize. Abuse can be even more complicated. Is it abuse if the pastor is sincere and did not intend harm? Is it abuse if the experience of abuse involves a theological disagreement? Surely not every bad encounter with a pastor is malicious. Surely just because someone feels compelled to leave a church, it does not necessarily qualify as spiritual abuse. And there is a small (statistics seem to suggest between 2-8%) chance that an allegation of abuse could be made falsely, used in some sort of malicious way to benefit a survivor.

I realize I’m making survivors frustrated by such concessions. Yet I think this is part of the challenge we face. Spiritual abuse is incredibly complex. The two sides (those claiming abuse and those defending their churches) are struggling to hear each other because we don’t believe our concerns are being addressed. But if each side can “lay down their arms," the helpful place of meeting might just be first acknowledging how difficult the “maze” of spiritual abuse will be to navigate if we ever hope to find the truth.

Thankfully, we are no longer as alone as we used to be in attempting to navigate the maze. A number of publications have come out in the past year that focus directly on dynamics of spiritual abuse. Diane Langberg, a noted trauma specialist, released Redeeming Power: Understanding Authority and Abuse in the Church (2020). Scot McKnight and Laura Barringer released their biblical examination of Bill Hybels and Willow Creek in A Church Called Tov: Forming a Goodness Culture That Resists Abuses of Power and Promotes Healing(2020). Even more directly related is Wade Mullen’s recent Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself From Its Power. And finally Chuck DeGroat, a therapist and professor of pastoral care who has worked closely with pastors and organizations on the issue of narcissism, released When Narcissism Comes to Church: Healing Your Community From Emotional and Spiritual Abuse(2020).

*Escaping the Maze of Spiritual Abuse*

Dr. Lisa Oakley & Justin Humphreys

However, when it comes to on the ground qualitative research dealing directly with the need to define “spiritual abuse," none is quite as significant or clarifying as Escaping the Maze of Spiritual Abuse (2020) by Lisa Oakley and Justin Humphreys. Dr. Oakley is a psychologist who specializes in investigating spiritual abuse, particularly in regard to church policies and protection for children and vulnerable adults. For the past ten years, through a number of comprehensive surveys, she’s compiled with other leading psychologists profiles that characterize commonalities whenever spiritual abuse occurs. Justin Humphreys, her contributing author, has a background in social work and is the CEO of thirtyone:eight, one of the leading organizations that trains, runs audits, and advocates for safeguarding policies for children and vulnerable adults across the UK. Building off their shared advocacy work, the two summarize the most recent findings when it comes to identifying spiritual abuse. They offer several overlapping definitions from their own literature review to begin to compile a “portrait” of spiritual abuse:

“Spiritual abuse happens when a leader with spiritual authority uses that authority to coerce, control or exploit a follower, thus causing spiritual wounds.”
(Ken Blue, Healing Spiritual Abuse, 1993)

“Spiritual abuse is when a Christian leader causes injury to others by acting in a self-centred manner in order to benefit themselves.”
(Nelson, Spiritual Abuse: Unspoken Crisis, 2015)

“Spiritual abuse happens when people use God, or their supposed relationship with God, to control behaviour for their benefit.”
(Diederich, Broken Trust, 2017)

You’ll notice that while each definition focuses on a different dynamic (the abused, the abuser or the use of God to manipulate or control), each highlight that “power,” “self-interest” and some kind of “injury” or “control” are at play in order to qualify that spiritual abuse has occured. Although these definitions are broad, they do not haphazardly label all forms of power suspect. Instead, they confine the definition of spiritual abuse to a misapplication of power, specifically out of some kind of “self interest” or form of “control” on behalf of the abuser, that causes spiritual harm. This leads Oakley and Humphreys to their own definition:

“Spiritual abuse is a form of emotional and psychological abuse. It is characterized by a systematic pattern of coercive and controlling behaviour in a religious context.” (Oakley and Humphreys, 2020, p. 31)

According to Oakley and Humphreys’ definition, there are three identifiable components to spiritual abuse. “Religious context” is straightforward. The other two, “systematic pattern” and “coercive and controlling behavior,” require expounding.

THE THREE MOVEMENTS of COERCION & CONTROL

What would such a “systematic pattern” look like? Oakley notes that a number of characteristics tend to converge in a way that is more clearly identifiable than might be readily apparent. In an attempt to summarize her characteristics, I’m going to talk about three “movements” that seem to be at play both in the characteristics observed and the stories of abuse that Oakley and Humphreys share. These movements capture the “controlling and coercive behavior” that defines the profile of spiritual abuse.

Movement One: Initiation into the orbit of control

In most spiritual abuse, there is a key charismatic figure around which the church (and/or organization) revolves. This figure tends to have some aspect of specific or special “divine authority,” which in turn imbues them and their church with a feeling of special anointing that draws the follower in the first place. However, what likely surprises and gratifies the newcomer is that while this church is so distinctive and this leader is so anointed, there is something about them that the church or leader appreciates, maybe even admires. Often a strong degree of interest, flattery or involvement takes place in the life of the follower by the interested leader.

Oakley and Humphreys call this the “honeymoon phase." It makes spiritual abuse incredibly difficult to spot, at least at the start. The follower finds something intriguing, comforting or connective about the vision and leadership of the church. They are flattered that the leader is interested in them and has begun to initiate them into the community with increasing intimacy and responsibility. Unfortunately this can contribute to confusion in the community later on when allegations of spiritual abuse surface. Often those who stay behind have not experienced anything wrong and wonder why the follower didn’t “speak up” from the start if things were so bad.

Of course, that is precisely the point. Things were not bad at the start. Instead, a powerful initial connection took place between leader and follower that inspired increased involvement and commitment on the part of the follower, which concurrently imparted a certain degree of control to the leader. Which leads to the second movement.

Movement Two: Questioning the leader, structure, or values

If things began in the “honeymoon phase,” there typically is a “turn.” Oakley and Humphreys call this the “catalyst moment” when the “chemical makeup” of the relationship between the leader and the follower changes. Normally this is a moment of resistance, where the one following either questions, resists or challenges an experience, belief, or value closely associated with the leader. Because the leader tends to view their community, theology, or organization as “elite” and “distinctive,” resistance to their control triggers the leader's fragility, narcissism, or self-protective instincts. This often leads to an agitated or extreme reaction from the leader in their attempt to assert control. Sometimes controlling or shaming language is used. Often it is spiritualized. The follower’s maturity, competencies, skills, or even “right standing before God” can be questioned in an attempt to destabilize the follower and pressure them back into the orbit of the leader’s influence. This often looks like increased pressure on the follower to attend more, disclose more, or invest more in the community. The leader often will emphasize the follower’s inexperience and incompetence, while reasserting the leader’s own supposed anointing and qualifications by way of contrast. This is noted by Oakley and Humphreys,

“These shifting and changing experiences are very difficult for people to manage. Often, they will end up thinking it was their fault or they misunderstood the individual and really the person was just trying to help. Often people will recommit to the individual or Christian organization. They will try even harder to be part of it and to follow the rules. Many stories involve a cycle of being controlled, followed by positive times and recommitment. That cycle can be lengthy and very damaging to individuals who feel less and less able to trust themselves. They can begin to question their own sense of reality and can become very fearful.” (p. 33)

Recommitment and submission to their authority are precisely what the leader wants, and so it is likely that as long as control has been reasserted, the person being abused will be re-embraced (though often told to “try harder” next time to not disrupt the community the way they just have). Interestingly, those who pass the ordeal of this second movement often become close-knit “lieutenants,” entrusted with increased authority in the organization because they have demonstrated their willingness to submit themselves to their leader’s control. These “lieutenants” will typically be leveraged by the leader (either explicitly or implicitly) to pressure other followers into conformity (after all, they went through the same thing under the leader, and look at how well taken care of they are now). This experience can go on for weeks, months or even years. But inevitably, if the person leaves rather than stays, a third movement follows.

Movement Three: Departure & blowback from the community

At some point, a moment will occur that Oakley and Humphreys call the “final catalyst." In a sense, this might not even be a significant moment of contention; instead “[i]t is often one controlling or coercing moment too many and a point is reached where they feel they need to leave or exit the situation. As spiritual abuse is not yet recognized or acknowledged in many places, people often feel that their only choice is to leave. If they stay and tell their story, they fear nothing will be done.” (p. 34) Thus, while it's helpful in hindsight to identify the emotional and psychological harm, spiritual abuse far more often culminates in the “disappointed departure,” a sad yet silent (or silenced) moment where departure becomes the only option in light of the leader pressing control one moment too far. This does not mean departure comes without any resistance from the leader. Often final words of shame, expulsion, or manipulation are hurled at the one considering leaving, or seeds of doubt are sown about the character defects as the real root behind the follower’s need to depart.

Tragically, while the leader has been the fixed point of “coercive and controlling behavior” and thus the headwater of abuse, it is often the isolating silence of the community that causes the most damage to the abused individual, either because the leader has given a controlling reason for their departure or because, in the person’s attempt to speak out against their abuse, they have been minimized or disbelieved. The community thus compounds the grief and often the fallout from the abuse in their own resistance, silence or rejection of the one who has left, solidifying the sense that God stands with the abuser and against the one abused. As a result, Oakley and Humphreys note that it is quite common for someone who suffers spiritual abuse to go through a significant season of identity fragmentation, where relationships become difficult to trust, and faith in God can become difficult to find. It is not uncommon, as Oakley and Humphreys note, for someone who experiences spiritual abuse to walk away from God when they walk away from the church, and it is often only if that person can reestablish secure relationships and begin to rebuild trust in a new faith community, that faith in God can once again flourish. This is the deep and often overlooked tragedy of spiritual abuse: That the one who has been taken advantage of by a spiritual leader, who has been used to the extent of their willingness to be coerced and controlled by that leader, and then ultimately discarded or expelled when they can no longer suffer the ongoing manipulation, not only lose their pastor and their friends, but often lose their faith.

Meanwhile, the onlooking community of believers who could have believed and responded to them, instead shake their heads at the survivor’s deconversion, suggesting it now disqualifies any witness they might bring against their abuser.

These three movements provide the central frame to the “pattern of coercive and controlling behavior” Oakley and Humphreys identify. To be clear, like any situation of abuse, these movements are hardly simplistic or clear cut. There is confusion at each stage as a follower willingly participates for a variety of reasons in the good they sought to find from the community or close relationship with the leader. The pattern of “question the leader / be shamed for the encounter / recommit to the leader” can be incredibly painful to parse since small bites of “truthful” correction, Bible verses, or personal feedback are interwoven with heapings of manipulation, spiritually charged language and shame. If you do choose to recommit to the system, it strengthens the bonded sense of attachment and can often present itself in the guise of “reconciliation” which only makes extraction that much more difficult and bewildering to pursue. Finally, when the departure does occur, the circumstances are often so hazy, even to those directly involved, that the “silence” approach almost always seems best, both for the community and the one who was abused. Thus the “cone of silence” sits over a string of staff and lay volunteer departures, each feeling the same sense that “something was not right” (as Wade Mullen so helpfully summarizes), and yet in the isolation and disconnect from other survivors, they are left with few viable options to pursue investigation or accountability for what they experienced.

You can see then why spiritual abuse can be so challenging to talk about, and to identify, let alone to address. Arguably the most challenging aspect of spiritual abuse for a congregation to wrap their heads around is whether or not their leader “intended” to be coercive or controlling in their encounters with the abused. Were those interactions ones that “intended” to wield power for the self-interest of the leader? Or did that leader simply “intend” to have the follower’s “best interest at heart” and therefore is being misunderstood or unjustly vilified by the accusation of spiritual abuse? The challenge is that when it comes to intent, most of the time, we just cannot know. How do you peer into the mind of your pastor or spiritual leader? How do any of us expose the inner workings of the soul when it comes to situations of abuse?

Thus, barring more the more externalized clear cut nature of physical or sexual abuse done by a spiritual leader, how are we to discern the complex scenarios (much like what has taken place at Mars Hill under Mark Driscoll, or what is being alleged at Bethlehem Baptist under John Piper) where survivors of the experience are hurting and bewildered, while ongoing congregants under the leader are defensive and dismissive. Is there any other way to classify whether your experience or your congregation's experience was in fact spiritual abuse, if we do not have access to the enigma of a leader’s intent? Let’s explore together some ways we can help discern whether what we are experiencing is spiritual abuse.

AM I IN A SPIRITUALLY ABUSIVE SITUATION?

If you, after reading these definitions and movements, are still trying to sort out what to make of your church or leader, or if you yourself have suffered a bad encounter and are discerning whether or not it qualifies as “spiritual abuse,” I would like to offer a few final diagnostic questions that could help:

Is there a pattern?

As noted in Oakley and Humphreys’ definition, to qualify as abuse, one should be able to identify a “pattern” of coercive and controlling behavior. Normally, spiritual abuse isn’t limited to a single encounter. It is a replicating pattern in the identity of the leader who needs to control their ecosystem of leadership. So the first question you might ask yourself is, “Has the concerning behavior happened repeatedly in my encounters with this leader?” If someone is alleging spiritual abuse in your congregation (likely against a leader you trust and love), a helpful line of inquiry might be “who has already left the church (staff or congregants) who might have been close to the leader, and have they had any experiences similar to the experiences being described?”

I realize this involves quite a bit of work, when we would prefer simple clarity and clear lines to draw. You might need to listen in between the cracks of disappointment, burn-out, and disillusionment to see if parallels exist. However, while this line of investigation isn’t helpful for young leaders just beginning a pattern of spiritual abuse, most established leaders have effectively siloed stories that otherwise would corroborate each other if they had not been so effectively silenced and shamed. Therefore, when you begin asking around, patterns tend to emerge, and as soon as they do, either by repeated encounters in your own experience, or by repeated patterns shared by others who have departed, a firm case emerges that spiritual abuse has occurred.

Are there elitist behaviors?

Does the abuser demonstrate “controlling behaviors” justified by their “spiritual distinctiveness, elitism, or superiority”? In accounts of spiritual abuse there is almost always something that “distinguishes” the leader and their community. It can be something as simple as a blanket appeal to their position of spiritual authority as paramount. It can be certain heavily cited Scripture passages that justify their church’s distinctive “approach.” It can manifest as a claim by the leader to operate as a “spiritual father/mother” in your life. It can show up as the urgency of some “enemy” the church faces, such as a secular movement, a cultural phenomenon, or just other Christians who “don’t take ‘it’ as seriously as we do.” While intent may be difficult to parse, there is normally some kind of distinctiveness, elitism or “enemy” looming against this leader that justifies their claim to increased power and control over the lives of those in their charge. Whilst it isn’t uncommon for a church to have an internal rhetoric around why you should join their community over the other local options down the road - this “rhetoric” is made extreme in spiritually abusive contexts.

Such communities are going to be accompanied by an inappropriately strong sense of distinction, elitism, or a particularly vivid us that distinguishes the leader and community from them. If those are true, even (and maybe especially) if those are the values that make the church seem that much more powerful, dynamic and important to God’s work in the world, it is possible that abuse could be flourishing behind the cover of “God’s kingdom ends” justifying the means.

Is critique allowed?

Can the leader who is being accused of spiritual abuse relinquish power and control when it comes to inviting outside investigation and critique of their leadership? We all understand that leaders make mistakes, and that in their flawed humanness, a harsh word, an unintended phrase, or a triggered response might occur. However a leader intent on pursuing the work of humility will offer extended space for listening to concerns, will be willing to own and correct behaviors based on past mistakes, and will invite outside investigation and oversight when allegations of abuse occur. The best kind of leader will pursue this kind of responsiveness and humility without requiring public outrage or the spotlight of public pressure.

However a caveat is in order here. Lately many leaders have begun to adopt the posture of humility by implying they either have a.) already done an internal investigation of their organization that has vindicated them against all charges or even b.) they’ve already said they would hire an outside investigation, chosen by them, guided by them, redacted by them, and then carefully edited by them before releasing their public report. I don’t want to sound cynical here. But this last diagnostic question comes with a caution. Savvy leaders understand how to adopt the appearance of humility when they are seeking to restore public trust in their control. Therefore the real insight I’ve seen with this third question can often be uncovered in how “lieutenants” or other close friends to the leader respond to the calls for investigation of abuse. Are they dismissive, disgusted or even angry that such allegations against their leader have taken place? Or are they open, humble and perhaps already even repentant about mistakes that are coming to the light, with a sincere desire to change if their leadership could improve?

GOING FORWARD

If you have journeyed thus far in this blog, we have made some significant progress when it comes to responding to Joe Rigney’s concerns about the “sin” of untethered empathy. Spiritual abuse is not an amorphous term, intended to be wielded whenever someone is disappointed with their church or has a disagreement with their pastor. Instead, spiritual abuse is an identifiable category demonstrated through a “systematic pattern of coercion and control.”

Perhaps you have been wondering if your experience qualifies as spiritual abuse. My suggestion would be that if you feel drawn to the category at all, there is likely something to explore through conversations with others who might confirm the pattern of coercion and control you experienced.

Perhaps, on the other hand, your pastor or a beloved church leader has been accused of spiritual abuse. If so, this exploration is offered to you as a sympathetic rendering of why abuse is so difficult to discern from your vantage point in a congregation that you love. You are likely in your church community because you love the distinctive values it emulates and you love your leader because they offer such a compelling vision of how to walk in faith in the context you find yourself in. Your first instinct will be to defend. My plea to you is that you resist this urge and instead attempt to listen. If someone does make the claim that spiritual abuse has occurred, even if it is only true in their personal experience, they are attempting to flag that “something is not right,” and what they need more than your dismissal or defense of your leader is the listening presence of the love of the church.

The world is watching how we respond to allegations of abuse. Many Exvangelicals have already walked away from the faith not because God dismissed their stories of abuse but because their former church families did. A generation is waiting with bated breath to see how the church will respond to the string of scandals and failures that dominate our newsfeeds. You don’t have to verify every story of abuse to indicate that their story is worth being heard.

The sin we are in danger of is not empathy but dismissal.

We need the truth, but in order to find it, we will all have to take up the costly task of humility, which will require us to listen before we judge. Spiritual abuse is real and costly and can no longer be ignored. Yet we serve a God who is capable of forgiving all sin, exposing all deceit, and judging all truth. To His glory and name be all our efforts to expose abuse in the church, that he may reconcile all in Christ.

John Perrine is a pastor from Chicago who currently resides in Belfast, Northern Ireland with his wife Jenna and their two kids. He is pursuing his Doctorate of Theology and Ministry at Durham University and is an avid walker, coffee drinker, and movie enthusiast, who podcasts on scripture, culture and formation over at burningwordpodcast.com.

What is Spiritual Abuse?