Karen

North Carolina

It was the idea that I could be reborn that led to my being “saved” at one of the mammoth national crusades which were commonplace in the early 70’s. A good Catholic girl, I’d gotten involved with the wrong crowd. A clean slate was exactly what I was looking for. My conversion was dramatic as was my infectious enthusiasm for my new faith, and I was trusting of anyone who professed the same.

When I was 16, I attended a youth outreach meeting associated with another large crusade and heard a compelling message given by a charismatic young Southern Baptist evangelist. Intrigued by his ministry, I plied him with questions at the end of the talk. He invited me to assist him on his next visit to the area, and I gladly accepted (with the permission of my parents, of course.)

It was fun helping him, and I thought it was a great opportunity to learn. When he offered himself as my spiritual mentor and teacher, I was incredibly flattered! As he was 11 years my senior and had a family, it seemed logical to me that he might want to avoid the public eye and any misunderstanding of our relationship. So we spent time together in his hotel rooms. Of course I feel foolish writing this today. 

When his sexual advances began, I went into denial that this “man of God” would ever do anything wrong. I coped with what happened by blanking out during the worst of it, and explained what I did remember by telling myself that his actions meant he loved me and we would somehow ride off into the sunset together. I couldn’t understand why my "relationship" with him was so painful. I thought there was something wrong with me or that God was playing some cruel joke on me. Although I didn’t see him often, he kept up the contact with me through college. It was a secret, and one I would keep for over two decades.

In college I met and married my best friend. We were excited about starting our lives together, and I did very well for our few years together until my “spiritual teacher” appeared again. That last encounter touched off what I can only describe as a nervous breakdown, which totally baffled my new husband. I was never the same person after that, and struggled with nightmares, anxiety, feelings of anger and dysfunction in my intimate relationships for years to come for no clear reason.

When the secret finally came out, my husband was stunned. He immediately recognized that I had been sexually abused and things began to make sense to him. For me, however, seeing the truth was far more difficult. It was like trying to piece together a puzzle with my brain in a fog and that teenager inside me fighting tooth and nail to hold on to all her protective mechanisms.  The adult part of me had to work backward from the damage, like a crime scene investigator.

Skipping forward several years downplays the enormous difficulty of that task and the terrible toll the stress took on my health and my marriage. At one time of particular frustration and desperation for answers as to what happened to me, I fought nearly overwhelming fear and contacted my abuser. He offered apologies, but vehemently denied that anything overtly sexual had ever occurred.  Then, he turned the conversation to himself, all his problems and life struggles. I was glad for the apology, but it didn’t settle the inner turmoil I felt. I was reeled at the ease with which he managed to twist my plea for help into me feeling sorry for him! 

Fast forward again. Memories finally began to emerge. They were distorted and foggy, and I was emotionally removed from them, but they were things only I would know. Like the person who comes home to a vandalized residence, one doesn't have to see the burglar to know what happened.

With those additional puzzle pieces, I again confronted him and finally got from him the confirmation and confession I was seeking. What a relief to have a story that makes sense. Unfortunately, I am deeply scarred to this day. 

For many years I made excuses. I thought I was too old to be victimized. But I was just a young trusting new Christian girl; putty in the hands of a master manipulator who fed on my affection for his gratification. 

The SBC should get off its high horse and just do the right thing. It is absolutely ridiculous that the SBC is so self-righteous that they would think they were somehow special and didn't need to protect against predators. Any organization which places people in positions of authority and influence over children should self-police and should take steps to deter abuse. The most trusted amongst us are by far the most dangerous.   

Feel free to contact me.