Abuse, Cover Up’s, and Sex Scandals - Church, We Have a Problem.
This past week, a few people slid into my DM’s with the same headline. Brian Houston, the man who heads the Hillsong Empire, is up on charges for covering up sexual abuse of minors. Yes, plural. He claims innocence, of course, and the long arm of the law must wait until he returns from Mexico (!!!) to take the next steps in the two year investigation. Houston famously fired his own dad after it came out that Houston Snr. (Frank) had abused minors. Did Brian Houston remove his dad from the staff? Yes. Did he make organisational changes? Allegedly, yes. But did he go to the police with the information he had and was obligated to report, thus allowing the system to process the charges and take reasonable steps to prevent future abuse? Apparently not. This knowledge doesn’t rock me. It doesn’t even surprise me. If there is an emotion anywhere near surprise, it is my anger and disappointment that it has become so unexceptional. To place doctrine, ambition or empire over person. To do exactly what Jesus would not do.
This from the people who instruct us in the ways of selflessness and Christ-likeness, who we take as moral standard bearers over our lives. Yet, in this moment when justice comes knocking for Houston Jnr, will the Church collectively answer the clarion call to stand on the side of justice, truth, and lawful living let alone compassion and advocating for the vulnerable? I doubt it very much.
As we know, Hillsong’s followers and attendees number in the millions. Across the world, there are numerous “campuses” as they are now called. Last year, we saw another Hillsong scalp fall as Carl Lentz got outed for cheating on his wife. It happened in a year when Ravi Zacharias, the legendary apologist, died and with that took to the grave any possibility of justice for his alleged abuse victims (who I absolutely believe, for the record). It has been reported that Zacharias regularly exaggerated his academic achievements, and that there are multiple sexual misconduct victims.
Then there’s Jerry and Becki Falwell, the couple at the head of the conservative Christian College, Liberty University in Virginia. They were outed as having some sexual practices that certainly wouldn’t fit within the doctrines they publicly espoused. (I.e. One of them would trawl the university for young men for Becki to sleep with while Jerry watched on. It’s called cuckholding. If that’s your thing. Fine. Just don’t shame girls for their spaghetti strap cami’s or loss of virginity while you watch your wife doing the the pool boy. Hypocrite. That’s before you delve into the issues around power distance between a sexual predator and their prey).
The Falwell issue was creepy at best, predatory at worst, and when you throw in their the fact that it was Falwell’s recommendation that went a long way to putting Trump on the American throne for four ill-fated years, ousting Ted Cruz as the conservative anointed one, it gets creepier. It is rumoured Trump hooked the Falwell’s up with his lawyer. A cover up in return for a favour, perhaps? But the pool boy talked (Here’s the scoop on that one: The Rollingstone with some more salacious pieces of wow for you).
There’s a joke in there about the wrong type of preying/praying, but its entirely the wrong time for jokes.
You could be fooled for thinking that these people were anomalies. That there was just too much at stake for these Christian leaders to operate by the moral standing required of them as they headed up these large churches or Christian institutions. Does the end justify the means if you are weighing the life of a handful of abuse victims versus the millions of followers worldwide? The answer should be obvious here: no! In the parable of the lost sheep, the good shepherd leaves the flock of 99 to care for the one that was lost. As groups like the Australian Christian Lobby parade around, crying foul over the Church’s loss of privilege as the institution that was somehow a standard bearer for morality and goodness, this is what we are weighing it against - People like Brian Houston who is famously pals with Prime Minister Scott Morrison, and who is off preaching in Mexico while a two year investigation draws its conclusions that there is enough evidence to charge him for his handling of his fathers abuse of minors.
You could be forgiven for thinking that somehow the sheer size of Hillsong would make it harder for Brian Houston to do the right thing. Perhaps that he is the anomaly, or that riches and influence somehow made it too hard to stand up for truth without compromising the work of the ministry globally.
But there are three problems with that logic: 1) its horse shit, 2) its diametrically opposed to the energy of the gospel, and 3), perhaps most importantly, its not just the bigwigs.
My suspicion, and my lived experience as an Evangelical survivor and as a podcaster/blogger who moves in exvangelical spheres, is that the issue of abuse and its mishandling permeates right through institutionalised religion. These people are supposed to represent Jesus - the model for compassion, justice and self-sacrifice. And yet they do it so very poorly. It would be laughable if it weren’t so darn tragic.
Roughly a year and a half ago, I sat in a courthouse waiting room with the mother of an alleged abuse victim (alleged - because the case is still before the courts at the time of writing. But I 100% believe and support the victim). We waited for the accused to turn up for his hearing. He was a pastors son. (Still is). He never showed. The victim’s mother had shepherded her priceless, vulnerable child through treacherous years, having disclosed the abuse to the pastor almost a decade prior and then weathering all sorts of personal hell as the crime was kept quiet and covered up (allegedly, again I'm using the word even though I 100% believe the victim and their mother). She approached police, who were rightly concerned about the vulnerability of the victim when it came to the timing of pursuing charges. But this day, she had raised every ounce of Mamma bear strength she had, and sat at the court house waiting to face them - both the accused and his pastor-parents. But the accused never showed. No one did.
I later heard (via second hand sources, admittedly) that there was a prayer meeting across town. It was supposedly a special prayer meeting called as “the church was under attack.” If true, then I can only guess where the accused was. And I can only guess what “the attack” was.
Lady Justice was at the ready, scales in hand.
Here is the case in point: Brian Houston has millions of excuses, irrelevant excuses, to potentially cloud his judgement when it comes to reporting the crimes. Count them in attendees, or count them in dollars - whatever balances your scales - but nothing stands up to me and thousands of others who demand that churches, you know, represent a loving God. But what about the abovementioned micro-church pastor? Well at this point I would estimate his church attendance to be well under 50. Does he have the same money or power to justify covering up the (alleged) abuse?
I think not. And yet…
It’s not just the bigwigs that that seem to think that the call of the their god, whatever that god may be, is bigger than the call of justice. This is an opinion piece. Let’s state that loud and proud. I blame two major factors for this gross miscarriage of justice. 1) Dominionism, and 2) Power. Let’s take the latter first.
I once saw a movie, and for the life of me I can’t remember what it was, but there was a line that struck me so hard the rest of the movie became irrelevant. The quote was this: “One of the greatest myths in the world is that power is innocent.”
We would so like to think that church leaders are immune to the corrupting influence of power. But with the growth of influence comes the growth of ego. Therefore, humility is less of a trait and more of a discipline, and it is my suspicion that too few people in power understand this. Still fewer church pastors, regardless of the size of their congregation, adequately discern the depth of their power/influence over their congregants. They do exist, I’m sure of it! I’ve met maybe a small handful for whom I know this to be true. But what of the others, however innumerable they may be?
I once did an interview with Mike Phillips who aptly pointed out that, as soon as there is money, hierarchy or power involved in a community, there is the opportunity for that to become corrupted. It was a damn good point. Influence is just another word for power, let’s be honest. I have witnessed, time after time, that the damage caused to a victim within a church system can regularly fall far down the priority list when it involves exposing the ways in which people in positions of power have behaved badly or covered up the actions of those who did.
Even when it involves grievous harm.
So what if a church of a million closes because the pastor was found to be covering up child abuse? So what if that pastor is friends with the prime minister? If we think that the means justify the end, if we think that our empires and our money and our political influence is more important than a child who faced insufferable abuse at the hands of anyone within our leadership ranks, we are thoroughly and biblically wrong. Jesus said “let the little children come to me. Forbid them not for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
But what do we do when we tell a child that their innocence, their damage, is less important than God’s man or God’s plan? We are the stumbling block in their way. We are a giant, cosmic “fuck you” representative of God himself.
This isn’t true for just the original victim. It is true for the mothers and fathers who advocated for that child. For the siblings who knew the secret. For the relationships and friendships throughout the course of that childs life who are privy to the damage and hold the hands of the victim as they weather the tough terrain of recovery. To them, the question is obvious: “Where is God in all of this?” And the picture we give them time and time again is that he is there, behind the Frank Houston’s of the world, and that the Brian Houston’s of the world are there to play armour bearer and get in the way of justice. It is here in these moments, that Jesus, who came to model radical, sacrificial love and inclusivity, to stand up for justice, overthrow corruption, and model the law of love, is completely absent from the Institutions of Church. In fact, Church more clearly resembles the pharisees and sadducees of the scripture who Jesus railed against, and who railed against him.
Did I just call Brian Houston, and any church leader who values power, money or influence over the plight of the vulnerable or covers up abuse within their ranks, a Pharisee? Yes. I did.
But where did we get the idea in the first place that there was a call so great, so lofty, that it was our mandate, and not serving the vulnerable, marginalised or at risk? Thats the second problem: Dominionism.
I’m going to go ahead and say it: this is the most problematic doctrine in churches today. It’s a big call to make but I stand behind it. Dominionism is unbiblical. It sounds nice, because it tells us that power and dominion is our birthright as Christians; that we are somehow spiritual spies with a heavenly mandate to infiltrate and take over the halls of power, whether they be business, politics, family, spirituality, education, entertainment or health. That God intended for the world to fall in line while we ascend to power. Tempting, isn’t it, to believe that saying the magic words (the sinners prayer) automatically entitles you to riches, power and influence.
I’ve written on Dominionism before, and I’ll link you at the end of this article. Dominionism is believed by its adherents to be Biblical. But when you delve into it, it is nothing more than a heresy - an unbiblical idea that appeals to some because it rubber stamps their desires for societal ascension. Politics is where dominionism is most obvious - we saw it in Trump pandering to the Republicans and locking up the Conversative vote. We saw it at the end of his presidency when his followers blindly proclaimed false prophesies about his second term, and we saw it in the Capital under seige on January 6. This was not a kingdom based on righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost (the definition given in Romans 14:17). This was a kingdom built on ego, and its fruits were violence and lawlessness. Yet the good Christian conscience of many of these conservative followers was absent. Dominionism had replaced discernment, and Donald “Grab ‘em by the pussy Trump” was now their banner. His multiple divorces now overlooked (an aberration not to little old me, but to many of these church leaders who abandoned their own doctrines to support the man). The sexual assault allegations against him now silenced. To raise these abuses would be to speak against God’s anointed, as they like to say.
Of course, not all American Christians. Of course - I say by way of disclaimer. This topic tends to get my blood a little warm to say the least.
The problem runs deep. Deep enough for many many blog pieces to cover it. But it doesn’t just apply to billionaires or church leaders with millions of followers. It also applies to small church leaders, even micro church leaders, who think the end justifies the means or who believe that their great and lofty call is more important than the child who discloses that a church leader did something to do them.
If the church can only reach its goals by silencing its victims, then the institution is lost. It is not representative of Jesus. It is not representative of any of the values it claims to espouse. Jesus told us, in the New Testament about the law of love. If we look on the global scale as churches fail to protect their victims, we have to mark this with a gigantic fail. So if we can’t measure up to Jesus one commandment, then maybe we should go back to the Ten Commandments:
I am the Lord your God, you shall have no gods before me. (Okay then…how about power? Can I worship power or riches before You? FAIL)
Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain. (Oh, do you mean using the name of the Lord to justify things that the Lord would absolutely not justify? FAIL)
Remember to keep the Lords Day Holy. (Well first of all the sabbath is a Saturday, so for the majority - FAIL)
Honour your father and your mother (Okay. Maybe this one is okay, for the churches who don’t split families apart in the name of “restoration” or “spiritual fathering”)
Thou shalt not kill (Gosh, I hope we don’t fail this one! But do you count it when people suffer abuse at church and then lose their lives to suicide? FAIL)
Thou shalt not commit adultery (I’m looking at you Carl Lentz, and the Falwell’s. Fail)
Thou shalt not steal. (Do you mean stealing a child’s innocence? Does that count? FAIL)
Thou shalt not bear false witness. (OOOOh burn. FAIL)
Thou shalt not covet your neighbours wife. (Lol. Sorry Carl Lentz. You bombed twice in one scripture passage)
Thou shalt not covet your neighbours goods. (Okay, even I’m bombing here, because my neighbour has some cool stuff.)
How did we rate? 1-2 out of 10?
Let’s refer back to the big man, shall we? If Jesus became “obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross,” can’t you report crimes against children and vulnerable people? If Jesus said “Let the children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” should we be making these children suffer and bear wounds from which their recovery will be long and gruelling if possible at all?
The point I’m making is this: the Church is now being disabused of the idea that it is above the law, or even that it is an example of anything to society. The Royal Commission into Institutional Abuse (in Australia) was a damning mirror held up to our faces, and yet we refused to take a good hard look. Here we are, years later, and the secular world is leading the charge when it comes to all matters pertaining to protecting and advocating for the vulnerable, and demanding truth and transparency from organisations. And the people who seem to be kicking the most against this progress seem to be found in churches. Or in Mexico. Or attempting to wield political influence so they can continue on their merry, unscrutinised way.
Is all lost? Can the church be rescued? Only if it is willing to look in that mirror, long and hard, and completely rebuild it’s structures from the ground up - to humble itself to the point of death, even death on the cross. Can miracles happen, yes. Do good churches exist, yes. Have I experienced some of these good churches? Yes, I think so. Do I still take a dim view of the system worldwide? heck yes.
Do better church. You won’t find me supporting Brian Houston, or any other pastor against whom an allegation has been raised. You’ll find me on the side of the victim who had to gather every shred of strength and self-belief to stand up and report what happened to them, only to be smacked down and silenced. Because generally speaking where there is one such allegation, there is bound to be more.
I hope I am proven wrong. I just don’t think I will be.
xo
Kit K - who has a bee in her bonnet today.
And the Links Bebe:
Is there a Biblical Basis for Dominionism?
Why I’m Not a Dominionism Anymore
Dominionism in the era of Trump and ScoMo, the 2019 Edition
Coronavirus and End Times Doctrine
Forgive me, Bloggerati for I have sinned. It has been ages since my last blog post. Its been for good reason though, as I’ve just launched “Unchurchable, the podcast.” This has been a dream of mine since around the time I started this blog, but writing was my passion and my comfort zone. However, the project is live and the first cab off the rank was the topic of the End Times Movement.
If you happened to catch the pod but missed the end times stuff in Evangelicalism, then here’s the scoop: the End Times Movement is a doctrine within Christianity that focuses on the book of Revelation as an apocalyptic prophesy. It covers things like the Rapture, the Great Tribulation, the Four Horses of the Apocalypse the the Second Coming of Christ.
Its heavy stuff; so heavy in fact, that following the screening of a rapture movie at my kids church when I was about 8 or 9, I plunged headlong into a life of avoiding the book of Revelation and always wearing clean underwear lest the rapture hit and leave my laundry-day specials in a pile on the ground with the rest of my clothes.
With Covid-19/Coronavirus swirling its way around the globe, there seems to have been a predictable peak in End Times anxiety and that’s certainly not something I take lightly. In my own life, I’ve had to confront some of the fear that certain doctrines had left me with. It is my belief, a scriptural belief, that love casts out fear. That fear shouldn’t be the thing a faith is built upon.
So! Back to coronavirus/end times anxiety. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to dust off my writers hat and do some meaty, doctrinal stuff and if I can, I’d love to help put some end times anxiety to rest. So without further ado, there are a few key things that make up the end times doctrine, and when combined, we can see why they indicate that Coronavirus does not signal the end of the world.
1. The Book of Revelation as Apocalyptic Prophecy: The whole end times doctrine and movement hinges on the book of Revelation being written by the John the Apostle as a prophecy of the apocalypse. This also assumes Biblical literalism – ie. that every word written in the Bible is directly inspired by God and thus infallible. Now, there are some plot holes here, namely:
Biblical literalism is only one way to read the Bible. Some people believe that the original Greek and Hebrew text was directly inspired by God, but that subsequent translations of the Bible have cost us some of that infallibility or even slipped other meanings into or out of the text. There are still others that read the Bible as prose – poetry and storytelling imbued with divine meaning but perhaps not historically accurate in a literal sense. I used to be a hardcore literalist, albeit one who was a bit uncomfortable with the book of Leviticus. These days I probably sit in the second group that believes we have lost meaning and context in thousands of years of rewrites. I also wonder whether gentile assumption of the Torah sits a little further towards cultural appropriation than a key tenet of Christian faith, but that’s another story for another day.
The authorship of the book of Revelation by the apostle John has been questioned by Biblical scholars. One school of thought is that yes, it was the Apostle John. Another is that it was another guy by the same name. I haven’t waded too far into the evidence, but so far I’m sitting on the side that it probably was the John. But if you are bored during Coronavirus lockdown, you are certainly welcome to dive down that rabbit hole!
There is yet another school of thought that the Book of Revelation may be apocalyptic fiction, or even commentary on times past (i.e. Israels poor treatment under the hand of the Roman Empire).
I remember having a conversation with a friend of mine who is of Jewish heritage, and while he was strong in his belief that the Book of Revelation was prophetic and will come to pass, he also remarked that the Jewish understanding of time is slightly different to the gentile understanding of it. In his words, he explained time as like a double helix laid on its side. Instead of being a linear thing, it cycled coiled around bringing certain aspects of prophecy into existence but not all of them as yet. But, he said “In the final days there will be a complete fulfilment of all things.” It was certainly an interesting explanation to this little gentile who understands time as linear. Oh the philosophical arguments we could get into here.
The case in point is that, before you panic over coronavirus being an end times “wipe out 50-75% of the population” event, you really have to consider what the book of Revelation is. On one hand, it could be the infallible word of God delivered to the Apostle John to describe the end of the world. On the other hand, it could be apocalyptic fiction written by a disgruntled guy named John, talking about his beef with the Roman Empire. It could also be anywhere between.
And I’m not going to choose your answer for you. Have fun with that.
Every generation since John, whoever he was, has believed their generation was the last. And we have survived little apocalypses before. This is the second thing to note. I have fond memories of listening to the music of Keith Green, growing up. He was a 1970’s Christian music legend who was sadly taken before his time (in a plane crash that also claimed the lives of two of his kids). His music is littered with references to Jesus coming back again. There seemed to be this fever pitch around that time that society had gotten as bad as it could get and Jesus would have to come again soon.
But a similar thought was evidenced in writings much much earlier. The scripture says that no one can know the day or the hour that Jesus will return for his people. So quite simply, we can’t afford to panic every time there is an event that freaks us out. They have been happening for millennia. The very word “apocalypse” can mean a world ending event like the one described in Revelation, or it can mean “an event describing damage or destruction on a catastrophic scale.”
If we ascribe the latter meaning to the word, then even in my lifetime, there have been apocalyptic events: the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the Rwandan Genocide, climate change, the Covid19 outbreak to name a few. The world is different after such events. We are reborn in a way. Perhaps, this is a little apocalypse, but it isn’t going to mean the end of the world. It is simply going to mean the beginning of a new one. Perhaps that is what the book of Revelation was eluding to.
The Rapture is a key part of the End Times Movement: The Rapture, or the moment when believers (in Jesus) are snatched away to meet Jesus in the air, is described in Thessalonians by the Apostle Paul, and eluded to in Revelation. Most evangelicals subscribe to the Pretribulationist view that all the Christians will disappear from the earth, suddenly and mysteriously, before the Great Tribulation occurs. This will then be followed by a seven year tribulation and then a thousand year Messianic Kingdom. Don’t freak out and think the Handmaids Tale is coming though. I’ll explain more on why later.
If you are a Christian, and you haven’t been raptured or borne witness to the sudden disappearance of most of your friends, then Covid19 isn’t likely to be the Great Tribulation. I would advise though, probably don’t go reading the “Left Behind” series right now. It might not be good for your anxiety. I do have to concede that there are two other schools of thought about the Rapture. Midtribulationists believe that the rapture will occur half way through the big Trib but before the worst of it, and Posttribulationists believe we will all disappear into the sky after it in an event that will coincide with the second coming of Christ. By and large, though, the most popular school of thought at the moment is pretribulationism.
Next up are the Four Horses of the Apocalypse. Revelation chapter 6 describes these four doomy-horses and their riders. The white rider is thought to symbolise pestilence. The red horse is thought to symbolise war. The black horse is thought to symbolise famine and the pale horse to symbolise death. Now, that’s pretty fearsome stuff. It has predictably caused many a Christian to look upon world events with a certain apocalyptic interpretation. And its hard not to. However, again we need to hark back to the arguments made above this point: we don’t know if Revelation is commentary or prophecy, and we haven’t been raptured yet anyway. So either way, there is no reason to panic over coronavirus. I mean apart from observing the obvious hand washing and social isolation procedures, obviously.
Arguably the most popular school of thought today is that The Great Tribulation is supposed to occur after the rapture if the book of Revelation is prophecy. Tribulation is mentioned by Jesus in Luke and by John in Revelation, but has been expounded upon by many end times theorists to include some pretty hectic, doomy conclusions. They include massive death tolls (up to three in four people, depending on who you are reading) and are tied up with those four fearsome horses mentioned above.
But here’s the scoop: there are actually four views of the Great Tribulation. Only one of them holds that the Great Tribulation will occur in the future. The four views are:
Futurist – whereby the Great Tribulation is a relatively short, seven year period of trials and testings for Christians.
Preterism – whereby the Tribulation actually refers to the past event where Roman legions destroyed Jerusalem and especially the temple. It affected the Jewish people and not all mankind. It is thought to have occurred in AD 70, and to be the reason why Jesus mentioned in Matthew 24:34 that “this generation shall not pass away.”
Historicism – which holds that the Tribulation refers to a time of persecution of believers that may have begun when Papal Rome was in power (from the year 538 to the year 1798). Other thinkers in the Historicism camp see prophecy fulfilled down through the centuries rather than in one hit. Some see it beginning with the destruction of the temple and continuing through to the Holocaust.
Idealism – which holds that the Great Tribulation actually refers to Satans fall from Heaven and will conclude when Christ defeats Satan at the second coming.
The Kit K Conclusion: Apocalyptic writings are scary. I have avoided them all my life. But having sat down and spent a bit of time in it of late, I’ve found my fears have dissipated rather than intensified. At this point in time, I believe that, even if the Book of Revelation isn’t fiction or commentary on things past, COVID 19 isn’t the Tribulation. It is a catastrophic event in the checkered history of mankind, no doubt. It is a low point. It is a time when humanity feels locked in and caged and that isn’t good for our collective mental health. But this too shall pass.
People who use this moment as a trumpet call to get people into their churches or tithes into their coffers (I’m looking at you, Kenneth Copeland) should be ignored or called out for putting the physical, mental and financial health of their people at risk.
But perhaps the most poignant truth during Covid involves where we put our attention. If you tune into something and expect it, it increases the likelihood that you will experience it. It’s true for when you are thinking of buying a car and suddenly start seeing it everywhere. It’s true for when you are trying to have a baby, and all you see is expectant mothers. I believe it is also true for things like hardship, persecution and warning signs of the apocalypse. If you tune into it, you will see it. It might have always been there. It may just be life. It may just be that you are noticing what has always been, but it is taking on different meaning for you in the moment. It doesn’t mean there are more signs. It just means we are drawn to the ones that have always been there.
I’m not saying that to be judgemental or to say they’re all in your head. Please hear me right: I’m not. All I’m saying is that when people constantly point to signs that the end is near or that the sky is falling, there can be confirmation bias that tunes us further and further into our own anxieties. Sadly, some of these anxieties have been programmed into us by traumatic doctrines.
The scripture tells us to set our minds on things that are pure, and kind, and good. Perhaps the great key to whether or not a world event is the Great Tribulation is in fact our view of life and God, and the way we experience the event. I see this scripture as a heavenly hint towards intentionally building healthy confirmation bias.
I.e. If we believe we are being persecuted, we will see persecution. If we believe we are being caged and taunted, we will experience the lockdown as a moment of being caged, and we will be taunted by our own minds and the dark possibilities they entertain. If we see ourselves as blessed, our future as bright, and the dawning of a new time after Covid19 when we all get out of our houses and enjoy eachothers company again, then that is what will happen. Our perception matters, because it is either a journey into peace or turmoil; a journey into the Great Tribulation or out of it.
Either way, now is not a time to fear. Fear creates stress which is bad for your immune system. Now is a time to use this lock in to learn a new skill, connect with an old friend, and make peace with the things you have avoided for so long.
I personally don’t believe the rapture is going to be a mass event. I believe it is a singular event that happens to each individual at the end of their time on earth – with all its joys and trials and tribulations – when we pass from this life and are caught up into eternity.
My friend Shari Smith has written a kick arse piece on looking after your mental health during this time. I’d encourage you to go read that, and to tune into the podcast if you missed it.
Until next time, look after yourself, be informed, and let good information bring peace and drown out the bad information that only increases fear. Also, go subscribe to the podcast! Now on iTunes and Spotify.
Love and peace
Kit K
What Happens When God Doesn’t Answer Our Prayers
Late last night, a friend send me a text message. “Have you seen, #wakeupolive on instagram?” it read. I jumped on over and saw every mothers nightmare. A beautiful little girl name Olive, 2 years old, full of life, had suddenly stopped breathing and died. She was taken to hospital and declared dead on arrival. She was not on life support. Olive was gone. My heart sunk to my shoes. I wanted to wake my sweet 2 year old girl and cuddle her forever. Because no parent should lose a child. But little Olive’s case was different. Her mother is a worship leader at Bethel and the last five days have been filled with worship sessions, worldwide prayer and fervent beseechings for God to raise this little girl to life.Now read me right, I’d be thrilled if the best were to happen. I’d pull a Tom Cruise and jump up and down on the couch with my kids.
But we are heading into day six now and so this story will have a lot of people asking “What if she doesn’t get raised from the dead?” Well that, my friend, is a very good question.
I want to start by saying I believe in miracles, in that I have been the very reluctant recipient of two of them. (I.e. It wasn’t mind over matter because I was sure that I was not going to be healed from these conditions. I’d even been in big arguments about it. There were witnesses to that.) Long story…
But miracle healings do happen. In the science world, they are called spontaneous remissions. There are thousands of documented instances of sudden and inexplicable recoveries in both Christian and secular settings. When you look at people like Dr Joe Dispenza, Dr Gregg Braden and even illusionist Derren Brown, you actually do get some pretty fascinating explanations for how these healings might take place. I’mma blog more on that another day because it’s complicated. But for the sake of today I want to say this:
I believe that God, or whatever you choose to call the force that animates the universe, can use various mechanisms to heal us. Science and metaphysical philosophers of various streams may be able to explain some aspects of it. Great. I’m not offended by that. I believe that God can do whatever He wants to do. I also believe know it can be profoundly disappointing when it doesn’t pan out the way we’d have liked.
Real talk: God has been profoundly disappointing to me at times. I remember sobbing in the shower after my fourth miscarriage and telling God some things I really hated and was furious about. Then I hated myself for hating God. And then I realised God has big shoulders. He can handle my anger and my questions.
When these questions become deep questioning, that can be called deconstruction. It’s the moment we start to grapple with whether or not our faith and worldview holds up to scrutiny. The issue with deconstruction is not whether God can handle it. Its whether we can. When I look at the Bethel movement, I can see some pretty big red flags. One is the doctrine that complete healing is guaranteed as part of atonement at the point of salvation.
Bill Johnson believes and teaches that [1]:
God never causes sickness.
God always chooses to heal.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh was definitely not a physical ailment.
If you do not believe in healing on demand, you are preaching another gospel
Johnson has said “I refuse to create a theology that allows for sickness.”
Well! Bill isn’t God. He doesn’t get to decide that, but…
The first point I don’t have an issue with per se. Although, as we age, the body is subject to entropy and atrophy. That, to me, seems to be just part of life after Eden.
The second is rubbish. God doesn’t always choose to heal. Jacob walked with a limp. God didn’t choose to heal him. The argument that Paul’s thorn in the flesh was “definitely not a physical ailment” is laughable. There is no way we can tell. I know plenty of people of great faith, who walked closely with God, who were constantly bringing their sin and failures before him who did not receive their miracles. I wouldn’t dare question their salvation. I wouldn’t dare question anyone listed in Hebrews 11 who didn’t receive their healing or the thing they were praying for.
The moment we create a theology that portrays God as a genie in a bottle who grants our healing wishes, we deny the sovereignty of God. If we believe that God is God, we have to believe He is sovereign over the timing of healing (i.e. here or eternity). We have to believe the choice is ultimately His. If not, we are demoting Him to genie, and promoting ourselves to deity.
And hey – the scripture tells us that if we share in his sufferings, we share in his glory. Why would that be dropped into scripture if salvation meant life would be a painless walk in the park?
The idea that healing is guaranteed on demand is a bad doctrine that has the potential to knock someone right out of the church door if tragedy strikes. It’s bad theology. And bad theology is dangerous.
I used to come at faith from a position of, I don’t know, superiority maybe? I had some bad theology of my own. Now, having lost the blessed naivety of my youth, I know that Christianity isn’t a magic wand, a silver spoon or a genie in a bottle. It is a comfort and a guide. It is a set of ethics and morals. It is a way of seeing the world. It’s a reverence and a reference point, and so much more.
I believe it should constantly be something I wrestle with and think about in terms of how best to live it out. But it doesn’t change the amount of struggles I will face in my life (spoiler: there have been a few!). I doesn’t change the amount of struggles anyone faces. The Bible never said it would. It said though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will *fear* no evil for you are with me. It said thy rod and staff comfort me. It said all things would work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose. But that never meant we would be immune to pain.
Hey. I’ve got unanswered prayers. I have significant health challenges. I don’t for one minute blame God, and I don’t for one minute blame myself. Those challenges mean I can sit with people who have invisible illnesses, support them and understand them. I grieve my angel babies. But I’ve been able to hold the hands of people walking the road of infertility. Sharing those deeply personal struggles is an honour I don’t take lightly. I might not be healed, but I am bloody resilient. I thank God for that gift.
(I’m not suggesting that poor Olive’s mum looks for any such silver lining right now. I am hurting for that woman! Let’s make that clear.)
The case of young Olive is a tragedy. I hope it doesn’t become a dual tragedy that causes her mother to lose faith, or causes other people to ask God why He didn’t be a good genie and bring her back when we demanded it. If it did, I wouldn’t blame the parents. I wouldn’t blame the people who are praying for these precious souls because of the compassion and empathy and faith they have right now. Thank God for them!
I’d blame the people who trot out bad theology and raise expectations above the Biblical bar.
God isn’t our genie. He is our father in heaven. He is the author and finisher of our faith. He is sovereign. He is not able to be fully understood and I cringe at even using male pronouns for him right now. God is too big for our petty labels. God is too big to push around.
And hey side note: I read this fabulous quote on instagram (I’m looking at you, Jess Hugenberg): Types of witchcraft: 1) incantation: magic spells, a series of words or phrases believed to be uttered to achieve a desired result. 2) Divination: seeking knowledge by supernatural means, such as necromancy, which is summoning spirits or raising the dead.
Proclaiming “resurrection power” with poor understanding is heresy. Resurrection power is NOT the power to raise anyone from the dead. Resurrection power is the power that fuelled and accompanied Jesus’ resurrection which defeated sin and death. That doesn’t mean we will never die but that our souls will have eternal life in Jesus.
Look, I don’t know about you, but I like to stand well clear of the line that tells God what to do. The rationale above is pretty good reasoning as to why. My witch friend (yes! She’s fab) has shown me there is far more to witchcraft that what I wrote above. Her practice is quite different. But I’ve put that quote up there for thought provocation. We need to be careful which lines we cross. In my mind here, Bethel is crossing some dangerous lines.
If God didn’t answer your prayer, If he didn’t heal your child, or your sibling, your friend or partner, if He didn’t grant your wish on demand, that doesn’t mean God doesn’t exist. Look for him in comfort you receive. In the medical treatment you can access. In the faces of the friends who support you, and hopefully even in the blogs that try and help you to grapple with the questions that fall out of that disappointment.
But when we subscribe to the genie in a bottle doctrine of complete and guaranteed healing as part of atonement, then we not only question God but our very salvation. There is no biblical case for us to think we get to demand God heal us and have him scramble to snap his cosmic fingers.
Now, for my atheist readers, Hi! Good to have you along. I’m sure there are a million thoughts you have here, including the power of the mind and the placebo effect in healings. I’ll get to that another day! But for everyone else who believes there is something out there, for those of us who believe that something out there is called God, hang tight.
Unattained healing, ungranted wishes, unrequited desires – these are not evidence of an absent God. I like what a friend of mine says “Lack of evidence is not evidence of lack.” She was saying it about the world of research, indicating that there is much yet to be discovered in terms of the power of the body, the mind and the forces that animate and impact upon it.
I think it applies to God, too. I look at world history, at world religions, at the different denominations that exist around the world and I know that we are all striving to find meaning on this planet and to try to understand and explain the uncontainable Divine.
If God hasn’t answered your prayer. I’m sorry. I hope in time, He does. But if tragedy has struck, I hope that you can find comfort in the knowledge of a loving God who will carry you through the aftermath. When we subject ourselves to bad theology that treats God like a genie and denigrates His sovereignty, we can’t find comfort in God when we go through hard times. We can only be angry that our genie didn’t perform, or we can think that somehow we weren’t good enough.
Don’t do that. Life is hard enough. My heart is with the Bethel Church and the Heiligenthal family. I’m praying for them right now in this horrendous time of grief. I’m also grieved that this has played out in such a public and desperate fashion. Gosh. Imagine.
That’s all I got. I’m going to go hug my daughter real tight.
Over and out
Faith, Identity, and the Deconstruction Journey
When I first read the terms “deconstruction” and “reconstruction”, I was in the thick of what one might call an existential crisis. Up until this point “deconstruction” was something referring to food in swanky restaurants (A deconstructed cheesecake, for example. Basically it means a messy, smashed cheesecake with a garnish on top.) Suddenly I was hearing this word applied to faith, belief and the way one looks at life. At that time, I felt like my neatly packaged way of looking at the world was suddenly flying about in a million pieces like ticker tape. It was its own messy, smashed cheesecake and I didn’t know how to put it back together.
I don’t know how to write this series in a way that’s neat. Because deconstruction and reconstruction aren’t neat. But I sure hope its helpful. So here are my first four thoughts.
First thought: You’re going to be okay. Its scary as heck. But you’re going to be ok.
Deconstruction, in psychological terms, is a process of critical analysis. You could apply it to faith, relationships, identity, life, or even specific issues in news or media. You could even apply it to a prize fight. Where did it go right? Where did it go wrong? Etc. But the type I’m talking about here usually comes after a loss of some sort: loss of a friendship, a relationship, a faith, a community, etc. It causes you to look back on time and ask things like “What was I thinking? What do I think? Who am I now?” and in some cases, “How do I approach life?”
The process itself involves deconstructing your old ideas about who you are and what you believe (and reconstruction is the partner to this process: where you put those pieces all back together). Think about this like a thousand piece puzzle. Its lovely when the picture is all together and looking sharp, but when you are holding the pieces and you don’t know where to start – well gee. That’s daunting. And its messy as F. (F meaning foretold. You didn’t think I’d drop the F bomb, did you? Heh.)
For some people this process of deconstruction can be limited to one patch of their life. For others its all encompassing. I’ve read that for people leaving a controlling relationship or a high demand group, for example, it can involve high-anxiety and inability to think through things as simple as deciding where and how to open a bank account.
When I started this journey, I was happy with where my bank accounts where held, thank Heavens. But I was second guessing what the Bible really meant, who was God really, how should I raise my kids or approach faith, God, and contribution to society. I was wondering how I should redevelop a tribe for my husband, kids and I to live and thrive in. My experience of faith had informed everything: my friendships, how I interacted with family, career, finance, sleep, tv consumption, major life decisions – everything. All of a sudden it was blown to pieces. I felt like I my locus of control had been external. I didn’t know how to reach out, grab it and figure out how to possess it for myself. I didn’t even know whether I was allowed to. In some moments, I was rapt in the freedom of it all. At other times, I was almost crippled with fear.
Its been three years. And I want to say something to people who are just starting this journey – you are going to be ok. I’ll give you a spoiler here: I’m ok. In fact, I’m happier. My marriage is thriving, as are my friendships. I love my tribe, and my weekends are spent with people I just adore. We soak in the sunshine, watch our kids play, drink wine (on many if not all occasions) and we laugh a lot. I laugh a lot more than I used to. I still have struggles but they are well within the bounds of “normal.” How do you deal with 2 year olds? How do you squeeze in date night when you are so tired? Why do the weeds in my garden have to grow so freakin’ fast? That sort of thing.
If you’re just starting this journey, then it feels all-encompassing right now. It feels messy, and painful, and out of control. But it won’t feel that way forever. I’ve got friends who are 4, 5, 6 and even 15 years post-deconstruction. They are doing well. Life looks different but it looks good. You’re going to be okay. Just keep taking one step at a time.
Second thought: There’s grief, and no matter what you’ve heard about the five stages of grief – it isn’t linear. One moment you are in denial. The next you are angry. You think you’ve accepted it then you change your mind about that. That’s okay. Just roll with it.
Yes, you can grieve for faith, community, or relationships as deeply as you would grieve for a person. Why? Because if you are grieving for the loss of identity or a relationship, then its almost like you are grieving for the person you were before. Its okay. My husband and I used to try to fix each-other. If one of us was having an off day, we would try to talk each-other up and out of that funk. One would compensate for the other persons sadness or rumination with confidence and cheeriness. It was noble. But we have learned something over the years: its better to acknowledge those feelings of sadness and rumination, hug it out, and simply be there in the sadness. You don’t have to feel “up” all the time. You can’t. That’s life. But if you have someone beside you to simply share it, then cherish that. I’m so blessed that hubby was on this journey with me. The way we worked through our deconstruction/reconstruction was different, as was the timeline, but we were in it together. I’m so thankful for that.
Not everyone will go through this process with a partner. If you can’t, then find a friend, a support group, or a therapist. Better still, find all of the above. This is hard stuff. You’re going to make it. But its hard stuff.
Third thought: You probably need to know about limbic lag.
Fun fact: Your prefrontal cortex (which makes sense of the world) sometimes works on a different timeline to your limbic system (which is thought to govern emotions). So when it comes to matters like re-evaluating and re-building your life, if you are feeling like crap, it doesn’t have to mean anything more than that you’re feeling like crap. Acknowledge it. Don’t fight it. But don’t think you need to rethink everything because you are feeling like rubbish in that moment. It could simply be limbic lag – thoughts and feelings working on different schedules. Eventually they’ll line up a bit better. But in the midst of the crisis, they might not. And that’s okay.
Tomorrow will be another day. You don’t have to feel sad tomorrow if you felt sad today. But if you do that’s okay too. (Disclaimer: one or two days is okay, but if your low mood lasts much longer than that, see a doctor. Sometimes when we face upheavals in life, it can wear on our mental health. If you are suffering from ongoing low mood then it could be depression, which is a medical condition. Don’t muck around with that. Your life means too much. Yes, even if you feel like you’ve lost your sense of purpose and place right now. You are worth help. And help helps, you know.)
Now, I know that limbic lag is a bit of a pop-psych terminology to describe this phenomenon but its a helpful one based on how the different sections of the brain work. If you’ve gone on a big process of deconstruction, then your whole life might be put under the microscope of critical thought, and you might be grieving a lot while also talking and thinking through it all. If you are used to “following your gut” to know whether you are right or wrong, then this limbic lag could be confusing. You might wonder if you are wrong on something just because you don’t get that happy, peaceful feeling about it.
In this moment, I encourage you to sit with the feelings and know that sometimes you just feel bad. I’m about to use another pop-psych term (eeek!) but in these moments, self-care matters. So run that bath. Have that chocolate. Go for that walk (get dressed first if you’ve just had that bath! You’re welcome). Phone that friend. See that movie. Deconstruction can feel all encompassing, but you can take a few hours off your existential crisis to see Jason Momoa, er I mean Aquaman or whatever. Your existential crisis will still be there tomorrow, so you can give yourself permission to take a day off making sense of the world.
Fourth Thought: Deconstruction and reconstruction don’t have to be separate. You can do one as you do the other. They can also be positive and freeing, even if the circumstances that lead you there weren’t.
Look, how you face your crisis is your business. No one can tell you how to do it (apart from a good therapist, which EVERYONE needs. I swear. Emphasis on the word good though. A good one will guide you through it, give you the skills to do it, but never demand you do it their way or according to their values). But I found I had to approach deconstruction and reconstruction together, and in an ongoing fashion.
In the beginning, something would pop up almost every day. Its amazing how pervading your belief system can be. During the heavy deconstruction phase after I left a church, lost a community and had to reinvent it all, I was amazed at how much I had to rethink. But deconstruction and reconstruction ran together. Something would pop up, and I’d realise “I used to think this about a particular thing. What do I think now?” I’d then study, think, talk it through with people in my circle and arrive at what I now think. It was a constant process of taking one belief out of my box of beliefs, turning it over, thinking about it and deciding whether it was to be kept, discarded or reinvented.
You see, you can’t just discard a belief. You have to replace it with what you now think. It’s not just a matter of realising Santa doesn’t exist. Its a matter of realising he doesn’t exist, and he’s actually your parents waiting until after you go to bed and putting the presents bought with their hard-earned cash under the tree. Santa didn’t eat the cookie. Ruddolph didn’t eat the carrot. Dad ate the cookie and Mum put the carrot back in the crisper so it could be chopped up and put in with the roasting vegetables.
It sounds terribly orderly, doesn’t it? I wish it were. It was actually a lot less organised. Because one day it was church attendance and tithing, the next it was social justice, predestination, the afterlife and fear of Hell. Then back to tithing or whatever. It was haphazard and emotionally draining, sometimes intellectual, and other times deeply emotive. Sometimes it was easy to arrive at a new conclusion or retain the old one, and sometimes it was too hard to sort through in a day, a week or a month.
Three years on, I hope I keep deconstructing and reconstructing for the rest of my life. Now that I’m through the existential crisis and into a more authentic, congruent and peaceful way of living and expressing faith, I think its an altogether healthy thing to keep asking yourself important questions. Its hard in the beginning if you’ve been living life one way and then it all gets thrown up in the air. But its not always a negative thing or something undertaken in reaction to loss or upheaval.
I realise this blog post lacks my usual references and intellectual geek-speak. I felt like it deserved a bit more of a personal look. I hope it helps. If it doesn’t, then I hope you just hold on to two things: find a good therapist, and you’re going to be okay.
Life can get sunnier if you do the work.
Three years into a deconstruction/reconstruction journey that may come and go for the rest of my life, here’s what I know: I’m still me. I just like me more. I am more able to grow and evolve than I thought I was. I am stronger and more capable than I thought I was. I am still a Christian. God hasn’t changed, but my understanding of Him has and so the way I express that and love people has changed. There will always be things I grieve. Because grief doesn’t necessarily go away. You just grow a bigger life around it.
And you can, you will, grow a bigger life around it.
Good luck. Stay tuned next week when I talk about…something relevant.
xo
Kit K