The place: Phoenix, Arizona.
The conference: Restore.
An unplugged worship began, and a tremendous amount of raw and unbridled lament came pouring out of my eyes. I felt safe crying. I was amidst people who understood my pain.
I realized suddenly that I had not taken the time to adequately lament the pain and injustice I have personally experienced within the four walls of what we formally call the local church. As I recalled the burdens others have shared with me, their laments became my own, and I now carry not only my pain but theirs as well.
For so many, the institution we call the church—a place meant to be a sanctuary—has become a space where Satan's influence runs deep, and safety feels like a rare possibility.
For those reading this who belong to a local church or have become part of its leadership, these words may cause you to flinch—maybe even feel anger toward me for writing them. I pray you will find the empathy and compassion to keep reading.
I am a woman who deeply loves God’s people and His church. Yet, His bride is burdened with many toxic groomsmen. Both truths can coexist. You can love His bride and be wildly disappointed and bewildered by its behaviors at the same time.
Toxicity is spreading through the very buildings we call the local church, and it’s in desperate need of a deep and thorough cleansing.
The cover-up of sexual abuse
Lack of transparency with financial information to the congregation
An obsession with growth and numbers
Oppression of the weak and marginalized
Disgusting male dominance pushing out the female voice
Grossly misusing precious tithes
Narcissistic pastors that crave power and influence
These toxic traits are wreaking havoc on the Church Jesus died for, and I’m going to do all I can, with my husband's 100% support, protection, and backing, to not sit back and let this toxicity infect His church anymore by being an advocate for the wounded.
A memory that I had suppressed came rushing back to me. I recalled a time when a Catholic priest called me in my early adolescence to conduct a survey, which turned into a highly inappropriate conversation asking me to describe my female parts. Looking back, I now realize this was an attempt to groom me for intentions only God knows.
That suppressed memory coming back grieves my soul, and it makes me sick with indignation for the woman who is reading this and has been through much more sexual abuse than what I just described from spiritual leaders you trusted so deeply. Friend, if this is you, I’m sorry, and I see you. I believe you. You have an advocate in me. Even more, Jesus sees you, and He is angry and weeps with you.
I’m grieving for the woman who was told by people in the church not to divorce her husband because “God hates divorce,” forcing her to stay in an unsafe and abusive marriage. I’m heartbroken for the woman who feels intense guilt and shame after choosing divorce to protect herself, only to be shunned by her Christian family. While I believe in the sanctity of marriage and that divorce should never be taken lightly, Leslie Vernick (pictured below), a relationship coach, reminded me this past weekend that “Sometimes, divorce is the solution to serious sin.”
In cases of abuse, betrayal, or unrepentant harm, separation may be the necessary path to safety and healing.
I’m righteously angry that the word “submission” has been perverted into women complying with abuse and silencing their God-given, beautiful, and necessary voice. Women are the other half of God. We are image bearers—holy, valuable, and necessary to the kingdom of God. We have a God-given voice that needs to be championed and welcomed at the table, on platforms, in pulpits, and in boardrooms.
I’m still trying to process what I know about one of the churches I attended, where top tithers were labeled “kings and queens.” In staff meetings, we were profiled and discussed, with strategies designed to keep us happy and engaged to ensure the money kept flowing.
My husband and I were groomed into participating in something called “front-row leadership,” where we were asked to sit in the front row and “amen” and affirm the pastor. We were told that the pastor liked positive feedback and that by doing this, we were teaching the congregation what leadership looks like.
In many churches, I learned about building campaign companies that trained leaders to identify top givers, offering statistics to prove that prioritizing these individuals would help meet fundraising goals. But none of this reflects the heart of Jesus. This is a direct violation of Scripture. Please read James 2:1-4 for yourself and tell me if these behaviors line up with the heart of God.
In full disclosure, I have not publicly talked about some of these whacked-out things I have experienced because I didn’t have the language or courage to name them and heal from them until this weekend.
My literary agent and dear friend, Mary DeMuth, shared these powerful words at Restore: “To not act is to say evil is okay.”
What has held me back from acting is the way I’ve minimized my own pain—failing to call evil what it truly is. I’ve gaslit myself into silence. Maybe you have too?
“It wasn’t that bad. I’m probably overreacting. Other people have it worse than me.”
“Surely my pastor didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s probably not a big deal. I should just drop it and trust that everything is fine.”
“Maybe I did something to deserve how they treated me. If I hadn’t said that, they wouldn’t have acted that way. After all, I need to submit.”
“I must be remembering it wrong. I can’t trust my memory. Maybe they’re right, and I’m just making things up.”
“They’re not actually mean to me—they’re just having a hard day, and I’m being too sensitive.”
“They said they didn’t mean it, so it’s probably my fault for misunderstanding.”
“Why am I still thinking about this? I should be over it by now. Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“I should be over this by now” is a constant struggle for me. My first bout of spiritual abuse began when I was groomed by toxic leadership back in 2007. I’ve long since left that institution of incredible damage and harm. But the problem is, I never examined the fruit of a toxic church and found myself in another one.
For years, I stayed silent after preaching a message to our church body—a message I delivered with the full permission and support of the lead pastor. But what followed exposed the depth of injustice: I was later told that the elders had disagreed and that I never should have been allowed to teach it. In that moment, the permission they freely gave was weaponized against me, revoked as if it had been a mistake, leaving me to bear the weight of their disapproval and the shame of their betrayal.
In the depths of my sorrow and pain, I scoured Scriptures in isolation, trying to discern my Father’s voice. “Lord, did You give me the gift of teaching, shepherding, and leadership just to remain silent or to use only for women and children?”
My Father’s voice infused me with the courage to keep searching His Word for the truth—and I did.
There’s a reason why God’s Word says, The truth will set you free.
In my previous church, I used the word “oppression” to describe what I was feeling. I was met with more gaslighting: “That’s a really strong word,” they said, totally dismissing the massive depression and chains I felt from not being championed to use my gifts freely.
The first time I was asked to speak again in a church service in front of both men and women, I had a minor panic attack the day before. My body remembered the pain, fear, and anxiety from all those years ago when my spiritual leaders, through their lack of action or follow-through, carelessly showed me that my gift was not needed or valued.
As an ordained minister now, surrounded by men and women of God who value my voice as a woman, I have found freedom.
So what’s the point, Christy? Why are you writing this?
Julie Roys gave a message this past weekend emphasizing the importance of not staying silent in the face of evil.
Her message highlighted the need to bring awareness to those who are hurting and struggling under unhealthy leadership and abuse in the Church.
Then my dear friend Lance Ford, who I’m working with to help rebuild a church just outside my hometown, said something captivating: “God is putting ministry back in the hands of His people.”
It’s time to take a stand and advocate against the wrong being done—to bring the darkness into the light.
To my fellow friends who have been silenced, ousted, devalued, abused, broken, and taken advantage of by people who should have been shepherding you—I see you.
You have an advocate in me.
All my love,
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