Why can’t you shut up about sexual abuse and get a life?

That question. Why can’t I just shut up? I’ve been asked this question in various forms over the past several years, by a variety of people. I’ve been unfriended (both in the real world and on FB) because I won’t shut up. One woman, a victim herself, who claims it’s had no impact on her and “it’s not a big deal” had a most condescending way of telling me to give it up already and find something better to do with my life.

Here’s the thing. With my personality, my nature, or the way I was trained – (I don’t always know where the ‘born this way’ starts or ends, and where the ‘trained this way’ picks up) – but in any case I would rather shut up. Yes, you heard me. I would rather shut up and pretend that sexual abuse isn’t an epidemic. And I’d especially like to pretend it isn’t in churches and faith communities. But it is. And I can’t.

In part I’d like to shut up because it’s not a fun way to spend my life. And I like fun. I love laughter and doing fun things. And I’d rather do them all the time than to even once get my hands bloody and feet dirty in the messy world of sexual violence against children. I’d rather plant flowers and manicure my lawn and sit in my flower garden and sip coffee, tea and water all day long in frivolous conversation with happy people. (Okay…stroke the ‘frivolous conversation’ bit. I don’t enjoy that.) And eat fruit. Because in The Garden it was supposed to be that peaceful and nice. But we don’t live in that Garden and hell has invaded our worlds in ways our first parents never imagined when they took that bite.

So the thought of sitting in a garden chattering with friends, laughing and playing games is appealing. Not gonna lie. No one would threaten to sue me.  No one would hate me. Everybody would love me. If all I did was sit in a garden with friends and never spoke another word of confrontation about sexual abuse and the agenda to cover up. Okay, they might hate me if I was super rich and if it was only an elitist group welcome in my garden. But if all were welcome and I simply served biscuits, treats and drinks, no one would hate me. Except maybe those who hate everyone and are always jealous. But mostly I would be loved. And that is my bottom line, based on my personality and who I am: I like to be loved and accepted. I am born for that. I am conditioned for it. Follow the rules. Don’t stir the water. Love everyone, and be loved back generously.

But I can’t shut up. And I can’t because every day children are conceived. Every day they are born. And every day they are molested, raped, brutalized and used. And every day I am aware that at any given moment, if I pause, a child enters the world, somewhere. And in that same moment another is being raped or molested in some way. And in that same moment an abuser, a church leader, a parent… someone, somewhere, is denying the horror that child lives. I cannot ‘un-know’ these things. They are as real to me as the breath I breathe.

But the real reason I cannot shut up is because I know there is hope for that child in spite of all that darkness and hell and trauma. And if just one child (whether an adult or still a child) hears that someone, somewhere is willing to fight for the truth and their hearts, then defying everything my heart longs for (peace, no conflict, Garden-kind-of-innocence, and to be loved by all) is worth it. Because that child might not commit suicide. That child might find the courage to heal and get help. And that child might not grow up to molest others, if that child knows that their story matters to someone.

So, go ahead, ask me if I can’t just get over it already, or move on or get a life. But first dare to picture the graphic truth of a toddler (male or female) being raped, an adult body forcing inside, and that adult getting away with it as a “member in good standing” because he said he is sorry. (Now recreate with a female offender). Too graphic? This is the reality of many children so we as adults better be able to handle it if we demand they live with it.

If you can physically step over that toddler, spirit torn and flesh bleeding, and keep on walking and literally ‘get over it’…. then send me your challenge to get over it and move on. But I can’t. And I won’t. Because I have ‘seen’ those little bodies left to bleed… I have seen them in the broken lives of struggling adults. I will continue to pick up those little bodies, wipe up the blood and bodily fluids that have left forever stains in their spirits – stains which remain, fluids which continue to spill, and blood which continues to flow from those scars for decades. And I will speak the love of Jesus over them, tell them who they really are and what they are worth. And I will confront boldly the dark sins hiding in our communities.

Because Jesus would. And He would say a whole lot more than I have courage or boldness or words for. And it wouldn’t be laced with an ounce of self-preservation or fear or wanting to be liked.

Matthew 18:6-9.

I invite you to speak up. Educate yourself about the truth. And fight for the lost children, stripped of innocence, and born into the silent sex-trade of what we call church and faith community.

Rise up. Join in transforming our communities so children are safe and offenders are called out and held responsible. Together we will create an environment where image means nothing and truth means everything. We need you. Even if the only ‘speaking out’ and ‘fighting for’ you can muster is on your knees in your room. The children need you.

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger 2017

Rape ‘Victim’ Recants Allegations…

Recently a local rape case was reported to police. While the individual was never my client, I did hear the story directly from that individual, and heard updates from both the victim and those closely involved, over a period of weeks. And given the number of people who have talked with me about it since, the story has spread far and wide.

Early on in sharing with me, she told me people were telling her it was only a dream, or maybe a demonic attack, but in any case what she claimed had happened, was not reality, and she was urged to not speak of it. Still, she stood by her story. And never in her sharing of it–which she did more than once with me and several others–did the details collide. There was no reason to believe she was fabricating a story.

When she developed tender breasts and fever, she was taken to hospital, where (according to her) she was told she had Mastitis. In the home where she stayed, the woman sent me a text one day saying  something was very wrong; the girl had bled all over the bed.

Earlier in sharing her account with me, the girl had mentioned several times she was pregnant and had miscarried. This ‘evidence’ seemed to corroborate her story. Still she was not believed by key people in her life. And still she stood by her story. (I personally asked her in my last conversation with her–in front of one of her key church leaders and two witnesses–if she had told us the truth. And even then she said, “yes.”)

However, by the time the trials began, and after the victim had been removed from the ‘safe home’ she had asked to be placed in, things changed. She recanted her testimony and the case was dismissed on November 9, 2015.

And many thanked God for this ‘answer to prayer’…

…because sometimes–in approximately 5% of cases–victims are believed to lie and make up false charges out of some perverse need for attention…

****

Today I read an article that was devastating, disturbing and familiar…  It is long, and it is powerful; worth the time investment to read. (And not hard to read, as the story is very engaging, in a tragic way.) This is one of the few times An Unbelievable Story of Rape is told, where the “victim” recants the story, admitting it was nothing more than a lie, and the ensuing events that eventually confirm what is, in fact, the truth.

I tend to work from the perspective of believing a victim, and if they are lying, hopefully they will get the help they need and admit to those lies. It is never mine to judge, and I am not in a position to investigate, so I try to help the best I can, while praying for truth and healing, in either case.

Where there is the rare case of deception, my heart goes out to the accused. This article is loaded with learning, just in the telling of the story, and would be good for every law enforcement officer, pastor, teacher, parent–and anyone working with youth or potentially victimized or troubled individuals. It was hard for me to read, causing moments of unusual anxiety as I followed this victim’s (changing) story and the police department’s handling of it.

If you know anyone who has made rape/abuse claims or allegations, or fall in the people group most likely to come across victims or those claiming victimization, I urge you to read An Unbelievable Story of Rape.

I will share a quote from the article that jumped off the page at me. In my position of working with victims and alleged victims, I have no choice but to believe, unless there are glaring discrepancies: A lot of times people say, ‘Believe your victim, believe your victim,’” Galbraith said. “But I don’t think that that’s the right standpoint. I think it’s listen to your victim. And then corroborate or refute based on how things go.”

There are many unknowns in working with victims of sexual violence, but the one thing I am certain of, is that sometimes the most diligent and well-meaning people have it wrong. (And to get a concept of just what I mean by that, I again highly recommend the link included here.)

Story of RApe

And now, since I am not accustomed to an article or a story impacting me this intensely, I need to go de-stress.

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger

 

 

Sexual Abuse & Violence: The Travelling Missionary… Rapist

Life at home had remained sporadically abusive and dysfunctional, with seasons of peace.

During the peaceful times I loved life. We spent a lot of time playing games, especially outdoor activities like shadow tag, prisoner’s base, baseball and soccer. Besides denial, humour was our survival mechanism during hard times, so that carried over to times when life was good. Practical jokes done by older siblings, like hanging a bucket of water over a door for the next unsuspecting victim, and other pranks, impressed and entertained us.  Sometimes life was wonderful. But then it would take a sudden twist.

Three years after we moved to Canada, our family met the ‘white bonnet’ Mennonites, as we referred to them. Our parents were quickly drawn into their culture and beliefs, convinced that if we embraced their lifestyle, things would be good. Dad’s desperate pursuit of God and His acceptance, would finally be fulfilled, and we would be safe.

High hopes in humanity seldom end well. People, regardless of culture, religion, or any other belief system, are simply human beings. They looked so peaceful, presented so well… with such purity, that it was hard to envision anything lurking beneath that exterior.

It could have happened anywhere, but it happened in the Conservative Mennonite churches of Ontario, where we least expected it, when I was a young preteen….

A single man, a ‘missionary’ with many reels of film, maps, atlases, and picture albums, whom we will call Harold, travelled from Mennonite community to Mennonite community, all across Canada. ‘Harold’ visited many churches out West, and also frequented our little community, near Bayfield Ontario.

What was unique about this man, is that he dressed conservative, even though he was not Mennonite. Not quite like our culture, but close enough to be accepted, though more conservative.

Harold told stories, an engaging speaker, and had a way with children. I loved when he visited our community and especially loved when he spent time in our home. As children we crowded around him to get the best view of the photo albums that brought his stories to life.

I couldn’t understand why some of my siblings were not so engaged, why they withdrew–especially my older sisters. They couldn’t tolerate him. I had hopes that maybe he would marry one of my sisters and become my brother-in-law. But I was only a child then, of about age eleven.

At church I eventually overheard rumblings of negative opinion, criticizing Harold, but that was normal for ‘outsiders’. We never had a visitor that someone could not find fault with, whether it was their cowboy boots, the sideburns, long hair or some other detail that wasn’t within our church constitution. There was simply no one else quite as good as we were. We had a cutting edge on practical Christianity.

Gradually he came around less frequently, until he all but vanished and I all but forgot he existed.

Years later I learned that Harold left a trail of victims in his wake, having seduced young men, raped boys, and made attempts on others unsuccessfully.

What remains troubling to me is that the church leaders knew who Harold was, and that he victimized multiple people, and they did nothing. They could not help what he was, and what he did, but to remain silent and not report him is inexcusable. I do not know or understand their reasoning, and it wasn’t that their lives remained untouched. At least one leader’s family was directly impacted,, triggering a chain effect of abuse, as his victims became perpetrators and their victims became perpetrators. Still the church remained silent.

While I got by with no extreme violations, through the chain effect, others close to me were not so fortunate. In recent years some have shared their stories with me.

Why tell this now? Why not leave the past in the past and only look ahead? On a personal life experience level I have left it in the past. But in breaking the silence it needs to be addressed.

If I was convinced it was in the past, I would leave it there. But I am not and there are a few good reasons to speak up. First of all, people need to be aware that this kind of thing happens, and their children need to be protected. Only a few years ago I learned that his man still travels across Canada, from community to community.

Secondly, if you or your child was victimized by Harold, or anyone else, there is help available. If you don’t know where to turn for help, and don’t know how to access resources available, I will gladly assist you. (info ‘at’ faithgirlsunleashed ‘dot’ com)

Thirdly, it is an appeal to the church to begin speaking up and taking a stand. We are called to protect innocent victims under our care as much as possible. They need us. Jesus said that whoever offends one of these little ones, it would be better to have a mill stone hung around their neck and be thrown into the sea. God does not take lightly the abuse of children.

As the body of Christ we cannot always help what enters our churches. But when innocent children are at risk, and crimes are committed, we have a moral and legal obligation to report crime to authorities and let the law deal with them.

We do not need to stand helplessly by. Together we can make a difference. Together we can stop the ‘Harold’s’ of this world and create accountability.

© Trudy Metzger

Return to 1st post in Sexual Abuse Series