Join our Newsletter
If you like The NakedJournal, you'll enjoy my weekly newsletter about deconstruction, freedom, and life in general.
🎨 Buy 2 framed Art Prints, get 1 free! Use code: 3PRINTS Shop framed art
This drawing is inspired by the Ouroboros Snake... of the snake eating its own tail.
What came first? The chicken or the egg? What came first? The thug or the theology? I read Tony Jones' thoughts on Mark Driscoll.
Jones has always admired Driscoll, maybe envies him a little, wants the best for him, believes he can be redeemed, and suggests that things can be restored.
What I found most interesting though is that Jones believes the problem with Driscoll is theological.
That is, did Driscoll become the focus of concern because of his theology? Or was it because of his behavior?
I'm concerned that Jones' post reflects the refusal of the church to understand spiritual abuse. It neglects the pathology of its abusive leaders. I don't think this is being fair to the victims or the perpetrators of spiritual abuse. People are victims of not just a bad theology, but a pathological cruelty.
I don't think Driscoll's theology made this happen. Driscoll "embraced" his toxic version of theology because it aligned with his moral compass. It fit his personality. It worked for him to achieve his goals. Then it manifested the worst in him. Then he continued to develop his toxic theology in order to make more room for his pathological behavior. Mars Hill Church too.
Jones' sentence, "It could have happened to any of us." is true, because I believe we all participate in this dynamic. Theology is our creation. It is a reflection of our drives and desires.
Then, not satisfied to only be the product of our drives and desires, it also becomes the producer of them. Theology is a vicious cycle of our desperate need to understand and control our universe.
Step into this cycle at any point and you can see that we are both the root and fruit of our theology and pathology.
And yes, it spins out of control by manifesting itself in toxic, controlling, and abusive behavior. Nothing can be done about bad theology because of free thought and speech.
But we can do something when this manifests itself in bad behavior. Cruel theology is a nuisance. Cruel behavior is unacceptable.
When Driscoll thinks bully to his people, we can say please stop. But when he actually bullies people, we can step in and say you will stop now!
I don't think this is a theological issue. I think it is a pathological one. Not just for Driscoll and Jones, but for the entire church.
If we would be healed, our theology would take care of itself.
1079 comments
Wow Pat Green. Wow. Thanks for taking the risk to share that story.
@david. Thank you for standing firm and letting this conversation take place.
@julie. I do not know you. I know a little about you and I am sad to say most of it was not complimentary. I am of little note. I was once a guy trying to get in the inner circle of outlaw preachers and EV. I had many justifications, but it was a broken and insecure man stroking his ego and wanting stroked in a circle jerk of narcacisstism and call that shit god.
I screwed up my marriage. Hurt my ex wife emotionally. Hurt my daughter and almost lost my relationship with her.
I quit ministry and started driving a taxi cuz I couldn’t get hired anywhere else.
I read things from others that make me uncomfortable because I used to embrace their harmful mindsets. I am not a player in your matter. I never said anything about you. But I know that I was once one of “them”. An example. A racist may never have called Maya Angelou the n word, but they have used it. They are the same as those who did it to her.
I am sorry for the man I was. I do not know if this gives you any comfort.
I got me head out of ass prior to the divorce. I fired my slimy lawyer, did the right thing, let me ex have the lions share. Gave her a no excuses apology for my behavior and harm. Had a very hard convo with my daughter and won her heart back and do so every day. My ex will likely never trust me. Don’t blame her. I hurt her. My daughter does and I try to prove the worth of her investment every day. For whatever that tat is worth. Some assholes get therapy, take meds, quit preaching and say they are sorry.
That’s all. I don’t know you but I love you and I am glad that the emerg world may be changing, but I am no longer party to it.
Much to ponder in the last 10 posts or so that have helped, I believe, in moving us ever closer to a more coherent interpretation of the fact-base on here and toward broader application to paradigm systems and ministry movements out there.
I have recently been writing extensively about the meanings and practices of taking responsibility for spiritual abuse. One thing that strikes me especially after reading @John Hubanks’ thoughts (September 27, 2014 at 1:32 pm) is the difference between being responsible for something that happened, versus taking responsibility for our part in it.
And that reminded me of a much earlier comment by @Mike Morrell (September 24, 2014 at 8:31 pm) where he suggested formation of a “Truth and Reconciliation Committee.” I don’t know if he was referencing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) set up in the Republic of South Africa in 1995-1997, but I happened to be reading about that recently as well as watching related documentaries. And I obtained one of the original flyers about the TRC, written in both English and Zulu, and distributed in South Africa in the mid-1990s. It notes that “The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was created by the Government of National Unity to investigate and report on gross human rights violations committed between 1960 and 1993. It will also consider applications for amnesty by people who committed political crimes.”
Three thoughts emerged out of my studies on the abuses of apartheid, Nelson Mandela’s facilitation of a culture of forgiveness, and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that all ties together the issues of survivors, perpetrators, and the larger community. I think they hold some stark and astonishing potential parallels to what we’ve been seeing happen here.
First, it was clear to me that black South Africans sharing their stories was crucial for their healing as individuals, and reclamation of their dignity as a people group. They spoke of atrocities of violence committed on themselves, of family members tortured and murdered. They received catharsis that had been withheld from them by requiring they hold on to their narratives in silence, as if they and their loved ones were of no value. They reclaimed truth about what had been lost and dignity in who they were. Some were able to openly forgive their oppressors, including the specific individuals who had harmed them.
Second, the opportunity for amnesty gave others the chance to search their actions and clear their consciences of misdeeds that had brought great damage to others. I was startled as I watched excerpts from the TRC hearings and other interviews when white South African policemen and security agents described specific tactics of terror and torture that they’d used on black South Africans. Several whites also spoke of how their separation from blacks under apartheid was all they’d ever known, and that they’d believed it was right, and so they had been willing to commit themselves to its protection – including doing whatever it took to preserve their way of life. Some were in visibly shaken by the realizations of their toxic beliefs.
Third, now the nation knew both sides of their history and could not officially hide. A much fuller knowledge of the horrific truth had been laid out in public hearings and in printed materials and could not be retracted, even if someone then willfully chose to ignore it. But those investigations and hearings for justice were also part of a larger relational movement toward health and unity as a nation, and hope for a united future after decades of official apartheid that had followed over three centuries of subjugation of blacks by white European settlers.
I blogged about post-apartheid South Africa a few days ago. That article has links to key resources I’ve used in my studies, in case you’re interested in more:
http://futuristguy.wordpress.com/2014/09/23/surprises-from-post-apartheid-south-africa/
Final thought: As I mentioned early on in this thread (September 15, 2014 at 11:39 pm), I was one who watched this story unfold five years ago. I am thankful for the emergence of more details and witnesses, even while wishing this had happened back then instead. Maybe it wasn’t the right timing then, not a “chairos” moment. But it seems that the larger network of contemporary Christian communities has much to reflect upon from what has unfolded here recently. May all sides involved and those beyond all learn from what is happening in this potent moment.
“I asked for years, ’where’s the fruit’?”
_____________________________
That’s the operative thing, that’s everything, that’s the way we know anyone, whether they’re really meaning what they say about Jesus or whether they’re a complete fraud, the ones about whom Jesus and others warned us 2,000 years ago.
I don’t care what anyone claims to believe, whether they can recite doctrine and verse, whether they hang with the right crowds, write the top-selling books, whether they can work up a quivering lip and an impassioned voice at the conference as they call us to repentance or wholeness in Christ or [fill in blank].
Means nothing.
Some people believe in Jesus like they believe in the tenets of the Republican or Democrat party, like they are a Chevy man or a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. They can run down a list of reason s why what they believe is true and passionately defend it.
Mean nothing.
Doesn’t mean they’ve ever come to serve and know that Jesus; doesn’t mean they ever will. How do you know them? By their fruits.
I noticed a serious misstatement in my previous comment. In the course of expressing my ire toward Danielle Shroyer’s reply, I said that I hoped one particular option of the two I offered was the case, but I erroneously referred to the wrong option. My hope is that she was deceived by those around her at the time of the events under discussion, but I mistakenly referred to the possibility that she was a willing and fully aware participant. While I would hope my meaning was clear based on context, I believe the error is serious enough to warrant clarification on my part. Stated plainly, I hope Pastor Shroyer was an unwitting participant who was acting in good faith but was nonetheless acting under a serious misapprehension, as bad as that would have been in its own right.
We’ve all been duped at some point, and narcissists are consumate liars. For all of her bluster, something in me holds out hope that the source of her indignation could in part be a result of a deeper sense that she may have been accessory to a grievous offense as a result of some she trusted behaving dishonestly and dishonorably.
@Nathan: I would suggest that you may be overlooking the support others’ comments, including my own, offer in validating the abused and their stories. I have received friend requests on FB, as well as private messages, from those thanking me for speaking out forcefully here, to use only myself as an example. While I acknowledge your point that expressing such ire can sometimes make engagement more daunting for the accused, in cases such as this one the support it lends the silenced more often than not outweighs the additional burden it places on those doing the silencing.
Not to put too fine a point on matters, we do a tremendous disservice to the cause of justice by suggesting that those who have done the silencing have some right to expect any sort of deference when called upon to answer for their misdeeds. To do so would be an insult to the harmed, most especially when those doing the harming assume the position of ministers and champions of the Gospel. Answering these accusations with anything less than humility and grace only furthers the harm they have done.
I fully accept that the accused have every right to answer in their own defense, and for the few who have availed themselves of the opportunity in this thread by showing humility and grace, those answers and the subsequent apologies have been accepted with equal measures of grace. I am entirely unfamiliar with the particulars of Julie’s divorce beyond what has been shared here, but as has been stated repeatedly those particulars are secondary to the points being raised. Having lived through my parents’ divorce as a teenager, I’m fully aware of the fact that each side has its own perceptions, and the truth often lies somewhere in between. However, what has caused me to join in here and continue to engage is not the details of the divorce but the concerted effort of those who have worked diligently for years to silence, discredit, and marginalize Julie. While it’s possible—although apparently increasingly improbable—that some involved were not in possession of all the pertinent facts when Julie’s marriage was being destroyed, what is abundantly clear is that all involved have participated in the subsequent efforts to silence Julie and support Tony Jones.
Determining the motives of those people is beyond my pay grade, but motives don’t count for a great deal in the face of such egregious behavior. As I stated in my reply to Pastor Shroyer, even assuming that some were acting with the best intentions, the quality of pastoral care on offer was piss poor, to say the very least. The defensiveness and indignation which has been offered after the fact only compounds the offense, and it further violates the considerably higher standards to which ministers of the Gospel must necessarily be held. Julie, as you correctly point out, has offered support for her claims, and the principle figures in this mess have answered with nothing more than outright dismissal and disdain for her, and that—at least to my mind—gives the lie to their protestations of innocence, whether before the fact or after. I would encourage you not to add your name, albeit unwittingly, to the list of those who have made matters worse by attempting to shut down this exchange.