Clarke’s Story
Who’s Who
“Clarke”: a survivor who alleges grooming by their former high school teacher, Christopher Lapeyre
Christopher Lapeyre: a former high school English teacher who went on to be a private tutor and college instructor after allegations of his grooming behaviors came to light
Christ Our Light Anglican Church (COLA): a now-disbanded church located in Big Rock, Illinois, in which Chris Lapeyre served as worship pastor and senior warden. COLA was a Greenhouse Movement church plant within the ACNA Diocese of the Upper Midwest.
Mark Rivera: best friend of Chris Lapeyre and former Catechist at COLA, who has recently been accused of sexual abuse by multiple victims
Rev. Rand York: former Rector of COLA
Church of the Resurrection (Rez): a large ACNA parish located in Wheaton, IL that serves as the Cathedral Church for the Diocese of the Upper Midwest, where Chris Lapeyre attended since the mid-1990s and served as a volunteer youth leader and worship leader
I’m Clarke. This is my story.
I first met Christopher Lapeyre when I was 16 years old, in the two English classes I had with him back when he still taught high school. He was 40 at the time. Among my classmates he was a hit-or-miss — some students, like me, loved his nerdy, quirky, chronically disorganized persona; others viewed him as too strict and claimed he was creepy. Having been a victim of bullying and rumors myself, I didn’t give much weight to any negative things said about him. I saw him as a professional who cared about his students.
I was struggling with some personal things at that time, and craved to be seen and heard by a parental figure. For various reasons, I hoped that Chris would take on that role. I had discovered he was a Christian and that he attended a small church in the country, Christ Our Light, where he was the worship pastor. As someone raised in a conservative Christian tradition, I felt like I could trust Chris. It wasn’t easy to be religious at our public high school, and I admired him for that. I hoped he, understanding my Christian context, would have spiritual insight for me and help me along, like a father/mentor, as I tried to deal with the pain in my life.
Photo obtained from Chris Lapeyre’s Twitter profile.
For half of that first year, our interactions were formal. I dedicated myself to doing well in his classes, and he complimented my work. There were a few moments before or after class where we’d bond over creative material that had come up, but for the most part I was just another student.
Towards the end of first semester, I wrote a personal essay for his class where I revealed many, if not all, of the problems I was experiencing. I also failed my Creative Writing final because I didn’t finish it on time.
I came into class the day he’d finished grading our finals and sat down. Before class started, he walked over and sat backwards on the chair in front of me, gazing at me with mild concern. He asked what had happened with my final. I explained I had just been too slow to finish it. He nodded and stayed there a few moments longer, looking at me, before getting up and preparing to teach.
Something changed in that moment — I felt the affirmation and presence I’d longed for. He seemed like a safe person to open up to. I began visiting him after school to ask for his advice on some of my writing. During second semester, as my visits grew more frequent, I asked him more personal questions about faith. He never turned me away, or told me he was too busy, or appeared unhappy when I popped in. Usually he greeted me with a smile and a welcome. He loaned me a few books he thought I’d enjoy. We started chatting in other situations when we saw each other — at an assembly or during a free period.
The closer we got to the end of the schoolyear, the more often I saw and spoke to Chris. He invited me to be his student aide for the upcoming fall semester. (Student aides helped teachers out for a class period, usually by filing or grading papers. The role was mainly an excuse to get out of study hall and hang with your favorite teacher for a semester.) I was elated. I walked home from school that day with a skip in my step, enjoying the warm spring weather and the idea of fostering my connection with Chris.
A few of my friends connected with Chris on Facebook after the schoolyear was officially over. I was hesitant to do the same because, while they wouldn’t have Chris for any more of their classes, I would see him constantly as his student aide first semester and a student in his Creative Writing II class the next semester. I also worried about coming on too strong and losing the “privileges” I’d earned, like being his student aide. I’m not sure what changed my mind, but eventually I sent him a friend request, and soon the four of us (Chris, me, two of my friends) were in a group chat on Messenger. I don’t know now whose idea the group chat was. It sounded fun at the time, and it was an excuse for me to keep talking to Chris, so I embraced it.
Although it was technically summer vacation, we still saw Chris frequently for a couple weeks because he’d invite us to hang out with him at the high school while he finished up his grading for the year. When he turned in his grades, all our communication shifted to the group chat.
I tended to be at the center of the group chat, since I was the main thread that tied everyone else together. Occasionally Chris would move the conversation over to a one-on-one chat with me if there was an idea he wanted to explore, or if he noticed something my friends needed from me.
For example, at one point I told the group chat I was attracted to women as well as men, and Chris DM’d me, saying, “There are some people in Big Rock I’d like you to pray with.” He had offered similar sentiments before about bringing me into his spiritual circle; one of his first messages to me was, “You and I should talk about God more at some point. There’s much more that could be done.”
We began messaging privately more often, not just in scenarios that had started with the group chat. I didn’t mind. In fact, I liked being the recipient of his exclusive attention. He expressed concern about my worldview and how I viewed myself, both of which were extremely negative. He described various prayers and spiritual practices I could integrate in my life to soften my heart towards myself and others. In early July, he invited me to attend Christ Our Light Anglican Church.
Photo obtained from Christ Our Light Anglican Church’s public Facebook page. Left to right: Rev. Rand York, Mark Rivera, Chris Lapeyre.
When I set foot on the doorstep outside the Big Rock Town Hall (where the church met at the time), immediately I knew something was different. Chris came out of the building, a large crucifix around his neck, and opened his arms for a hug. Okay, I thought, as we embraced, This is new.
He led me inside and introduced me to the congregant he wanted me to pray with. After that, I stumbled through the liturgical rituals of the service and was introduced to everyone else, including Christopher’s family. It seemed like everyone in the community was a hugger. I embraced a lot of strangers while we passed the peace (I don’t recall if anyone asked if I wanted to be hugged, but I accepted anyway), and I saw fellow congregants hug each other tightly. No one appeared to find it strange that Chris and I embraced again.
I tried to slip out the side door quietly after the service. Chris must’ve seen me, because he caught me in the parking lot as I headed to my car. He told me he and his family were about to go on a long vacation, so they wouldn’t be at church for several weeks, but that I could come back to COLA at any point. The people there were “good folks,” he said. He’d tell his best friend Mark Rivera to keep an eye out for me.
I drove home happily that evening. It felt like the mentorship I wanted with Chris was taking its shape. And he had opened himself up to me by showing me his personal life — more glances of which I received when he went on vacation and messaged me about various relationships within his family.
The more time I spent talking with him, even electronically, the more my respect and fondness for him grew. He told me he liked where he was currently at in life, referring vaguely to bad events from his past, sins he’d committed, old journals he’d burned. I viewed him as someone who had put in the hard work to improve his life and his relationships with those around him: God, his wife, even himself. I took his nuggets of spiritual advice as unadulterated wisdom.
He told me he liked where he was currently at in life, referring vaguely to bad events from his past, sins he’d committed, old journals he’d burned.
The next few months from mid-summer to that October are mostly a blur. I struggle to remember specifics from that whole year of my life, but those months in particular are hard. All I have to go off of (besides my few memories) are transcripts from my messages with Chris, and even then, there are gaps in information.
I know Chris and I kept messaging, more and more frequently, and often stayed up late to finish our conversations. He was a good listener. I told him everything, the way I would with a friend my age. (At this point, he was 41, and I was 17.) When we started to drift into more serious or sensitive topics, he would ask if I was comfortable continuing. If I wasn’t, he told me, we could just stop talking about it. I always wanted to continue talking to Chris, so I would tell him I was comfortable proceeding. One night, I apologized for keeping him up late, and he said, “Hey. I’d stay up hours later if you needed me to.” This, coupled with his comfort about discussing anything, made me feel like I could come to him at any time with whatever I needed. I started going to Christ Our Light every week. Often, there’d be a potluck or bonfire after the service, and I stayed to attend those so I would have more time with Chris.
Photo obtained from Christ Our Light Anglican Church’s public Facebook page.
Going to COLA became especially important once the schoolyear started because physical touch had become normal for me and Chris, and we weren’t able to hug at school without drawing attention. At church, and the events afterward, we embraced and met each other’s eyes frequently, and he’d often slip an arm over my shoulder. I remember one particular night, during a light snowfall, when we waited for everyone else to leave a church event and then hugged in the driveway for a long time, totally alone in the silent darkness of Big Rock.
I wasn’t aware at the time of any church members who batted an eye at how much time Chris and I spent together. I’ve been told recently by a former congregant that one person went to Mark Rivera privately and expressed their concern about how Chris was behaving towards me. While Mark formally became a catechist that fall, he’d held a position of authority in the church since its founding and knew Chris better than anyone. Fr. Rand York, COLA’s priest, was also present for the conversation. The congregant in question worried that Chris would hurt me and said the situation gave a bad impression. According to them, Mark immediately and harshly shut them down, rebuking the congregant for even suggesting such a thing. Fr. Rand reportedly sat there in silence, until finally saying something about not having certain conversations at that time of night. Since this interaction went on behind the scenes, unbeknownst to me until years later, it seemed like the congregation didn’t have any issues with our relationship.
At church, and the events afterward, we embraced and met each other’s eyes frequently, and he’d often slip an arm over my shoulder. I remember one particular night, during a light snowfall, when we waited for everyone else to leave a church event and then hugged in the driveway for a long time, totally alone in the silent darkness of Big Rock.
Sometimes I would get to hug Chris after school. I would stay in his classroom, working on my homework while he graded papers or helped the stray student who’d wander in. I would stay until he left for the evening or until my parents needed me back home. We would stand up to leave and stop in the doorway, embracing for a long time.
It didn’t take long for the rumors to start floating around school: Mr. Lapeyre and Clarke had a secret relationship. Mr. Lapeyre and Clarke were having sex in his classroom. Mr. Lapeyre and Clarke were in love with each other. Etc. A few faculty members sought out Chris privately to ask him what was going on. I’m not sure how Chris responded to their concerns, but he would come back to me later to make jokes about it. For instance, there must have been someone who expressed worry that Chris was grooming me, because our correspondence contains an inside joke about grooming. He framed the idea of him grooming me as so ridiculous that it was funny. He referred to a similar inside joke about lacking healthy boundaries. I laughed along, because I trusted him. I didn’t even know what grooming was, or the full implications of “boundaries,” but I thought he’d never do anything to hurt me.
There was a definite shift around October-November that I remember vividly. I had stopped consistently talking to most of my friends, instead preferring Christopher’s company. His physical interactions with me began to increase in frequency and intensity. I remember one moment, in the middle of the day, when we were alone in his classroom during my lunch hour. (It wasn’t uncommon for me to spend lunch with Chris after the period I aided.) I was sitting at his desk, and I can’t remember what I said — maybe something self-deprecating or otherwise characteristic of myself — but after I said it, he smiled, walked over, and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me against his side. His hand rubbed my upper arm. He said something in response, and I was close enough to him to feel the rumble of his voice in his chest.
Then there was the post-church bonfire where he wrapped his arm around me like before, but then pulled me in to kiss the top of my head, and let me go.
Photo obtained from Christ Our Light Anglican Church’s public Facebook page.
I began to feel mounting distress as awareness of our physical interactions settled upon me. I hadn’t even known Chris that long, and we were already used to embracing each other constantly. We talked all the time, every day, and often I pushed my homework back until after midnight because I just wanted to speak to him. If things kept escalating, where would they go?
I had very strong feelings for Chris — feelings that I did not want him to reciprocate, because I knew if he wanted to keep escalating the relationship, I liked him too much to tell him no. It would be a death sentence. I saw his wife and kids every week. I’d eaten with them in their house, at their dinner table, and the last thing I wanted to do was cause them pain. I relied on Chris to keep our relationship from going that far. I had thought it was impossible for him to reciprocate my feelings because I viewed him as such a good person. But his behavior made me worry that things between us would keep escalating.
I hadn’t even known Chris that long, and we were already used to embracing each other constantly. We talked all the time, every day, and often I pushed my homework back until after midnight because I just wanted to speak to him. If things kept escalating, where would they go?
As a senior, I was also stressed about college. I had envisioned myself attending Wheaton so I could stay in the area and see Chris, after which I would move to Big Rock permanently. But I came to realize that being in love with someone else’s husband for the rest of my life would be a pretty sad existence. I knew I would have to leave the area sometime, for good, and I wouldn’t be able to maintain my closeness to Chris. The realization was painful.
This dilemma — knowing the escalating relationship was not sustainable, but not wanting to do anything about it, while I wondered if maybe I was just misinterpreting things — occupied most of my waking thoughts, to the point where Chris messaged me about it one night. He asked if I was doing okay, since I seemed sad. I ended up revealing my feelings for him — or, rather, confirming my feelings, since he told me he’d had his suspicions for a while.
I apologized and expressed my fear about things having to change between us.
“It’s better this way,” he said. “If I go blithely on thinking everything’s fine and that I don’t have to worry all that much about emotional boundaries, where will that leave you?” He said he noticed that getting in deeper was making me unhappy.
I told him I wasn’t sure what would make me happy.
He then backpedaled, saying, “I don’t want to rush into trying to make any big changes. Some may need to be made. I don’t know. I need to pray with Mark about it.”
“Whatever you think is best,” I conceded.
He turned my sentiment back on me, telling me it was my heart and only I knew how to take care of it. “Whatever you think is best,” he echoed. “I am happy to see you. But do what you feel like you need to to get peace of mind. I trust you to do that.”
Photo obtained from Mark Rivera’s Instagram page.
He told me he didn’t feel awkward around me, but he understood if I felt awkward around him. If I stopped messaging him or showing up after school, he said, he’d be sad, but he’d understand.
He didn’t share anything else about his feelings. I assumed how I felt was entirely one-sided, but he didn’t clarify either way. He just handed the situation back to me until he could speak with Mark.
After that conversation, I was sure things were going to change between us. We would have to take a few steps back, evaluate, bring our communication and interactions to an appropriate, sustainable level. That wasn’t something I could willingly do on my own. I trusted him to be firm moving forward, to set those ever-elusive “boundaries” we had been lacking.
But Chris came back to me after discussing the situation with Mark, and told me Mark agreed with him that I should direct any future changes.
And because I couldn’t do that, our relationship proceeded more or less as normal. It even felt like we became closer than before, because now I had no secrets that I was keeping from him. He knew everything about me.
A lot of scenarios where it seemed like Chris was caring for my feelings — such as asking me if I was comfortable discussing a certain topic — were just instances where Chris presented “consent” to me at a point in my life where I could not, under any circumstances, consent.
Our dynamic shifted again. He began messaging me first, consistently, to the point where I stepped back and waited for him to initiate to make sure I wasn’t just imagining things. He told me that knowing me had made his life richer. He said he was glad I stuck around; I was “the best.” He let me ask him more personal questions about his life, under the condition I wouldn’t tell anyone else. He complimented my appearance. He asked me about my sexual orientation and history and how I experienced attraction. If I couldn’t go to COLA on a certain weekend, he’d tell me how much he was going to miss me.
I felt more stressed than ever before and tried pulling away. I told him about my ideas for college and the future, how I could “go anywhere, if I wanted to,” and at first he seemed thrilled.
“That’s so cool. Clarke embraces life,” he said.
But a couple hours later, he told me, “You know, all this business of going out into the world and doing anything is all great — as long as you can make it back to Big Rock every Saturday. I need my Clarke hugs.”
At the beginning of December, he said, “I love you, Clarke. You are a great treasure to me.”
He clarified that he meant it in the “most innocent way possible.” Still, the statement gave me a lot of feelings — of closeness to him, since another wall had come down; and also of panic, because the relationship was escalating yet again. We began saying “I love you” to each other.
This new phase of the relationship didn’t last long.
One of my friends, out of concern, contacted another teacher at the school, who then contacted the principal, who brought in the school detective and began a formal police investigation into Chris.
It all happened so fast. One day, I was messaging Chris like normal, and the next, I was being pulled out of PE to get interrogated. I never saw him in person again. Due to the blow-up, he resigned from his position, and I was left to deal with the rumors and speculation. He went back to his church community with the tragic story of how he’d been a victim of the school administration, who didn’t understand an innocent spiritual mentorship. He retained his leadership roles and status, even preaching from COLA’s pulpit frequently. Since the police instructed me not to have contact with Chris, I couldn’t go back to COLA, and none of the church members reached out to me unless I initiated first.
Photo obtained from Church of the Resurrection’s public Facebook page.
I never went to Church of the Resurrection, where Chris was a worship leader and had been a faithful member since the ’90s, but I know people at Rez were aware of the situation once the police got involved. I don’t know what Chris told anyone at Rez, but I later learned the church cleared him to continue in his leadership role with no restrictions. He went on to lead a homeschool creative writing camp for Rez teenagers the following two summers.
Because he hadn’t sexually assaulted me, and because I deeply trusted and believed in him, I thought Chris did nothing wrong. I defended him, over and over — to the school administration, to DCFS, to the Board of Education who tried to revoke his teaching license. I defended him to my friends, my counselors, and myself.
It seemed impossible to me that he’d wanted anything more out of our relationship. I saw him as a good guy. He called me “kiddo” and said he was praying for me. He invited me to do things with his family: Star Wars, Thanksgiving, setting up for church. He warned me about men in college who might try to take advantage of me. He expressed worry at various points that having me around might not be good for me.
Because he hadn’t sexually assaulted me, and because I deeply trusted and believed in him, I thought Chris did nothing wrong. I defended him, over and over — to the school administration, to DCFS, to the Board of Education who tried to revoke his teaching license. I defended him to my friends, my counselors, and myself.
I have since learned that these “positive” attributes are all part of the grooming process. Grooming is positive, caring behavior mixed with abuse. For every inappropriate thing Chris did to me, there was an equally wholesome interaction to complement it. It’s taken me seven difficult years to break down this relationship because of those seemingly “mixed” signals. A lot of scenarios where it seemed like Chris was caring for my feelings — such as asking me if I was comfortable discussing a certain topic — were just instances where Chris presented “consent” to me at a point in my life where I could not, under any circumstances, consent. Under the guise of openness and trust, he turned almost all of the decision-making back on me, handing me responsibility for things I never should have been responsible for.
Photo obtained from Church of the Resurrection’s public Facebook page.
I’m sharing this because I know now I’m not the first person Chris has done this to. I don’t want other victims to feel as isolated as I have. Until quite recently, I’ve been handling this alone. There were so many moments when I wished someone would’ve come alongside me — someone with a similar experience or an expertise in abuse, who could listen to my story. I never had that person, and I can’t help wondering if I would’ve been able to identify this relationship sooner with the proper support.
While I am also a victim of Mark Rivera, I’ve decided to focus solely on Christopher’s behavior in this story. In my experience, the grooming from Chris was a lot harder to identify. The relationship is much more difficult to let go of. I want to bring more awareness to Christopher’s role in the recent UMD abuse allegations and the dynamics at Christ Our Light that let him get away with this. It’s my hope that others whom Chris has hurt will come forward.
To any other grooming victims out there (especially victims of Chris): I want you to know you are not alone. What was done to you was not okay. It was abuse. None of it was your fault. However long it takes you to realize that is okay. Please, please reach out to a trusted friend or counselor for support. The team at #ACNAtoo is safe, and they can connect you to the resources you need.
In June 2024, Clarke released an online memoir that chronicles the aftermath of the grooming, including subsequent abuse at the hands of ACNA lay catechist and now-convicted sex offender Mark Rivera.
This memoir is Clarke’s independent project, not written in association with ACNAtoo, but we wanted to ensure our readers discovered it. It is a critical firsthand exploration of grooming, sexual and spiritual abuse, and how trauma compounds when a survivor doesn’t have support – or even someone in their life to tell them that the abuse they suffered was not their fault.