My first day at Faith Baptist was one of gracious smiles. "We're so pleased to have you here, Pastor," said one of the deacons while shaking my hand. Then he leaned in closer.

"Are you aware of the special board meeting tonight? It's going to be bad."

I was aware of the meeting, but not its agenda.

"What's going to be bad?" I asked.

"We'll bring you up to speed tonight; don't worry about it." Don't worry about it? You just told me it was going to be bad. How can I not worry? It was my first day at the church and already things were "bad." This honeymoon was going to be short—very short.

That evening I discovered the bad situation had a name: Thomas Jensen, or "Touchy Tom," as some in the congregation called him.

Tom was a longtime member of Faith Baptist, president of the men's ministry, an usher, and a sexual predator.

Nobody knew when the rumors began about Tom touching women inappropriately. Some recalled stories going back twenty years. Regardless of the origins, the board now felt, having successfully installed a new pastor, that it was time to address the Touchy Tom situation. Informing me about Tom must have slipped their minds during the candidating process.

Signed statements from nine women in the church were submitted to the board, detailing Tom's behavior. They reported being inappropriately touched during the "meet and greet" time in our worship services.

Realizing the accusations against Tom had accumulated for years, I asked, "Why wasn't disciplinary action taken earlier?" The deacons told me the previous pastor had privately confronted Tom about his behavior, and on two other occasions deacons went to Tom to discuss the complaints against him. Each time he responded with a tangled mess of half-denials, partial confessions, and a defiant attitude.

What the deacons were suppressing was that Faith Baptist had no real expectation for its members to obey Christ's commands. The membership structure was casual, lacking expectations, commitment, or communal accountability. When talking with Tom failed to bring repentance, the leadership simply let it go. Unfortunately, this passivity emboldened Tom's offensive behavior.

"Something must be done," said one deacon. The church was losing people because of Tom's reputation, and more women were speaking up. The debate around the table focused on whether to begin a formal disciplinary process. No one on the board defended Tom, but some had reservations about the impact public discipline might have on the church and its reputation. Since he was a long-standing member and part of one of the largest families at Faith Baptist, any public discipline against Tom could prove explosive.

As the newcomer I was content to observe the discussion, gleaning the facts, until someone called me out. "What does our new pastor think?" All eyes turned to me. The boxes in my office were not even unpacked, and I was already expected to make a congregational life and death decision. I used a favorite pastoral maneuver—I opened my Bible. I gave the board a brief review of disciplinary texts in Matthew 18 and 1 Corinthians 5. Grateful for the Bible lesson but unsatisfied, the deacons were not letting me off the hook.

"So what do you think we should do?"

Feeling cornered, I stated that based on my reading of Scripture, the public nature and severity of Tom's offenses, the impact on the witness of the church, and the need to create a safe environment for women, I would support formal disciplinary action. The board was satisfied—either with the decision to discipline Tom, or with the option to blame the new pastor if the decision backfired. After the meeting I wasn't too eager to unpack my boxes.

The deacons hoped to protect me, as the new pastor, from becoming overly involved. But it was naive to believe I could avoid the unpleasant aspects. Despite the board's agreeing to keep the decision confidential, news spread quickly. Gossip was evidently another unaddressed sin at Faith Baptist. By the next morning, I was already getting phone calls and visits to discuss Touchy Tom. People on both sides were recruiting me to their cause.

First contact
The day started with a call from Tom's daughter demanding to know why the board was persecuting her family. When I failed to agree with her assessment, she accused me of persecuting her family as well. I don't even know your family, I thought. How can I be persecuting them?

Next came Ronald, a member with significant clout and a close friend of Tom. After pleasantly introducing himself, his tone became confrontational. He announced his intention to leave the church if Tom was formally disciplined. I told him that the deacons were recommending discipline, but the members would have to hear accusations against Tom and vote before any disciplinary actions were taken. Ronald, upset with the deacons' recommendation, stormed out of the church. Is Ronald the first of many more? I wondered.

Most disturbing were the new reports of Tom's behavior that came pouring in. News of the board's decision gave more women courage to come forward. Since I was perceived as a safe and neutral player, many of these women shared their stories with me. They reported being pinched, grabbed, kissed, and groped.

A woman from the boutique in town said Tom had come into her store, looked around to make sure nobody was watching, and then came around the counter and grabbed her between the legs. Another woman opened her front door to find him standing there. She quickly tried to shut him out, but he stopped the door with his hands, forcibly entered the house, pinned her against the wall and kissed her, and then left. Another woman found Tom standing in her bedroom doorway. He fled when she screamed.

I asked the women why they hadn't gone to the police. One tearfully explained that her husband was a very rough man, and she honestly feared he would kill Tom and go to prison. Some were too embarrassed or ashamed to come forward. Most of the women either confronted Tom about his behavior, which usually caused him to leave them alone after that, or they avoided the church. Only one woman said she was planning to file a restraining order against Tom.

Not quite repentent
It was time for me to meet Tom himself.

He arrived at my office with his wife, Joyce, to discuss the situation. After all the awful stories I'd heard, I expected Tom to be a strong, menacing figure. But the man who entered my office was thin and nearly 70 years old.

We exchanged greetings and then, when I asked Tom about the charges, he swerved between denial and justification. "I didn't do anything wrong. Have you ever gone to hug a woman and tripped and your hand went somewhere it shouldn't have?" "None of them complained to me!" "I was just playing around." "I'm a man; I like women. What's the harm in that?" Joyce sank into the sofa and stared at the purse in her lap.

I was amazed how Tom could trivialize the seriousness of his actions. He had engaged in this behavior for so long that he didn't seem to understand the harm in it. As I tried to form a response to these glib dismissals, Joyce broke into tears.

"How can the church do this to us?" she wept. "We've been members for over twenty years." Joyce was heartbroken, but she couldn't bring herself to blame Tom openly. Instead she blamed the church and the other women.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," I said to Joyce. "I'm sorry about what Tom has done to you, and to these women, and to the church."

"I'm sorry, too," injected Tom. "I'm sorry the board has gotten to you and turned you against me."

The deacons had asked Tom to demonstrate his repentance by publicly apologizing to the church, undergoing counseling to help him with his problem, and temporarily moving his membership to another congregation until his return to Faith Baptist was deemed appropriate. But it was clear from Tom's outburst that he refused to meet these terms.

"Listen, I don't answer to the deacons, and I don't answer to you," he asserted. "I will go where I want to go, and there is nothing you or anybody else can do about it."

After Tom stormed out of my office with a tearful Joyce in tow, I was convinced the deacons had made the correct decision. His lack of repentance and his trivializing the situation made clear what had to be done—although I wish it had been done on the previous pastor's watch. As pastor, my clear responsibility was to protect the flock from Tom.

But clarity does not always bring courage.

Sunday morning maneuvers
On Sunday morning I ascended the pulpit to preach my first message at Faith Baptist, relieved to see that Tom was not in attendance. In fact, the church was more vacant than I had expected. I preached on 1 Corinthians 5 concerning the church's passive tolerance of the young man sleeping with his stepmother. The room was dead silent, and ominous expressions were on every face—not the sermon or response I had anticipated for my inaugural Sunday.

Following the sermon, I offered an invitation. I was caught off guard when Tom and Joyce, who had been waiting in the foyer behind closed doors, entered the sanctuary and walked up the aisle. He asked me if he could address the congregation. The coldness of his tone told me confession was not his agenda.

Restraining my instincts, I asked the congregation to sit as I yielded the floor.

"I just want to say," Tom began, "that if I've done anything to upset anybody, I'm sorry." And with that, they made their way back down the aisle and took a seat near the back of the sanctuary. While I don't make it a habit to judge any man's apology, it was clear to me, and I would learn afterward to most people, that this was not an apology. It was a calculated maneuver.

Once Tom and Joyce sat down, the awkwardness became unbearable. The new pastor had just been thrown a curveball, and everyone was waiting to see if I would swing. With the microphone in my hand and 200 pairs of eyes staring at me, I froze. Finally, with heart racing, I spoke.

"Um, I'd like to ask the deacons to confer in the corner for a moment."

The deacons quickly came forward. The congregation sat watching and whispering to each other.

"Listen," I said in the huddle of deacons, "I don't know what to do. That wasn't an apology, and he hasn't agreed to what we've laid out for him."

One deacon spoke up: "I say we call for the vote, and call for it right now!"

"If we call for a vote right now, with him having just kind of apologized, we might split this church," another said. It was obvious a good decision would be difficult to make under pressure.

"Let's end this service and meet later," I said. "We need to discuss this more before we take another step." The deacons agreed. We broke our huddle, and I ended the service with prayer. The congregation was confused. I was confused.

I returned to my office angry that Tom's pseudo-confession had turned my first Sunday into a circus. Staring at the cardboard boxes on the floor, I wondered how to get out of this mess.

Slamming the first stone
That night the deacons and I met. We agreed unanimously that the terms we had presented to Tom had not been met, and allowing too much more time to pass would enflame the situation further. We would recommend a vote in two days at our previously scheduled Tuesday night business meeting to terminate Tom's membership.

It was an unusually large business meeting, or so I was told. Tom and Joyce sat in the front row with their supporters, including Ronald, who had declared before the meeting that he would be calling for a counter-motion against the deacons.

A motion to terminate Tom's membership was read and seconded. The floor was opened for testimonies, questions, and comments. One woman came forward and told of her encounters with Tom.

"He needs to be stopped," she said, "and if this church doesn't do something about it, I'll have no choice but to file a restraining order against him in court."

Another woman told of being groped and propositioned. She then turned her finger to Joyce, "And you knew it was going on!"

With each additional testimony, the crying in the room increased.

"Are there any more comments?" I looked at Ronald, expecting him to bring his counter-motion. He sat, like the rest of the congregation, in stony silence. Tom's head hung low, like he was studying his shoes.

The vote was called for and taken. A folded paper with the results was handed to me. Before opening it, I paused. It occurred to me that the message on the paper would determine not only Tom's future at Faith Baptist, but mine. I opened the paper. More than 85 percent had voted to rescind Tom's membership.

I read the results aloud. The response was more tears. I then addressed Tom directly. "Tom, because of your sins, the members of Faith Baptist charge you to repent. In keeping with our by-laws, we are revoking your membership, but we promise to continue to pray for you, for your family, and for your repentance."

Tom never took his eyes off his shoes.

"May I say something?" said Joyce.

"Of course," I said.

Joyce ascended the platform—her eyes red from crying and a tissue in her hand. She looked frail and defeated. But when she reached the podium, she opened her purse, pulled out a large rock, and slammed it on the podium with startling force.

WHACK!

The congregation jumped.

Joyce held up the rock and said, "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone." She slammed it on the podium again, grabbed Tom's arm, and defiantly walked out of the church.

After praying for Tom, Joyce, and the people of Faith Baptist, I adjourned the meeting. Taking the rock left on the podium with me, I went back to my office and began unpacking my boxes.

				Try an Issue of Leadership Free! Name Street Address City/State/Zip E-mail Address No credit card required. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery. Offer valid in U.S. only. Click here for International orders. If you decide you want to keep Leadership coming, honor your invoice for just $22.00 and receive three more issues, a full year in all. If not, simply write "cancel" across the invoice and return it. The trial issue is yours to keep, regardless. Give Leadership as a gift Buy 1 gift subscription, get 1 FREE!

FREE Newsletter Sign up for Leadership's e-mail newsletter, Leadership Weekly. You'll receive illustrations, resources, practical advice, and a devotional for the leader's soul every week!    RSS Feed   RSS Help