(In the following true story, names and some identifying details have been changed.)
Kirk Thullin expected Rob to grunt his way through the hour of marital counseling. Last week’s session had seemed futile.
But on this day, Rob, without his wife Jennifer, was eager to chat about his stormy marriage. The hour breezed by. As he stood up to leave, he said, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Jennifer has been in sex therapy for the past year.”
Pastor Kirk leaned back in his chair and swiveled a half turn toward Rob. I should never have agreed to see this couple, Kirk thought. I’m really not a marriage counselor.
It was a favor to Ken Hutchenson, chairman of the church board. Ken had helped Kirk get his legs under him when he arrived at Harrison Flats Community Church ten years ago. Ken, a corporate lawyer close to retirement, was among his most trusted church allies. A month earlier, Ken had asked him to see his daughter and son-in-law, who had recently separated after six years of marriage and one son. Kirk didn’t know them well.
Rob continued, “Her therapist says her sexual problems stem from sexual abuse as a child.”
Kirk drew in his next breath sharply. Lord, please don’t let it be Ken, he thought.
“It was Brian.”
“Ken’s brother?”
“You’d better talk to Jennifer yourself.”
After Rob left, Kirk stared out the office window at a thundercloud forming in the evening’s reddening sky. Not Brian, he thought. Brian and his wife, Liz, also attended the church. An electrical contractor, Brian served on the church building committee and had just started a men’s Bible study. He was Ken’s younger and only brother.
Kirk tried to register what he’d just heard. If the charges were true, there would have to be church discipline of a key leader, the state might get involved–Kirk stopped the train of thought before it crushed him. He would schedule an appointment with Jennifer in the morning.
TWENTY-YEAR-OLD MEMORY
A week later Jennifer, slight with short, wedge-shaped hair, bounced into Kirk’s office and greeted him by saying Rob couldn’t be trusted with any information. She patted her cheeks as if they were hot and said she felt embarrassed but that it was probably good that Kirk knew.
“It happened about twenty years ago,” she began. “I must have been thirteen. My aunt and uncle often took care of me and my brother while my parents were away. Uncle Brian molested me repeatedly.”
“Did you tell anyone at the time?” Kirk asked.
“I was too scared,” Jennifer said, “and soon I buried it. My therapist said I’ve been repressing it all these years and that it’s at the root of my problems.”
The past few days, Kirk had mulled over what he wanted to say. He was the first to admit he wasn’t highly trained in psychology. He was a pastor, not a therapist. But he had read a little about sexual abuse and knew enough to know Jennifer needed to be believed. One of his counselor friends once told him that over 50 percent of all women have been sexually abused.
“I believe you,” Kirk said to Jennifer in his most affirming voice. Then he hesitated but said it anyway: “I think Brian could have done this to you. Who else knows about this?”
“Everyone, now, I guess.”
“You confronted Brian?”
Jennifer said she hadn’t but that Brian’s wife, Liz, had. After a therapy session in which she remembered Brian’s molesting her, Jennifer stopped returning her aunt’s phone calls. Liz had left several messages inviting Jennifer’s son over for an afternoon of fishing at their property pond. When Liz finally got hold of her, she asked, “What’s wrong? Have I done something to hurt you?” Jennifer tried to dodge her question, but Liz persisted, so Jennifer blurted, “In my therapy I’ve remembered that Uncle Brian molested me when I was thirteen.”
That night, Jennifer said, Liz confronted her husband and threatened to leave if it were true, and he exploded in a rage.
“Brian denied it all,” Jennifer said to Kirk. “So, I immediately told Mom and Dad.”
Kirk felt nauseated. He figured he’d heard just about everything. This was a first. In one short week, he had been sucked into a quagmire involving the chairman of his board, a highly placed church leader, and two other members of the congregation. Already it was ripping two families apart, and if the matter came before the board, it could polarize the church.
SEEDS OF DOUBT
Friday afternoon, two days after the session with Jennifer, Brian strode into Kirk’s office unannounced. He shuffled his stocky frame up to Kirk’s desk and cleared his throat. He mumbled a greeting and then abruptly asked if Kirk had heard the news. Kirk nodded.
“Jennifer is lying,” he blurted. “I did no such thing to her. Ken knows I would never do anything to her.” His face blushed with anger, the red darkening his tanned skin.
Kirk looked Brian in the eyes. “Jennifer told me what came out in therapy,” Kirk said. Is he lying? he thought. He groped for words. “The charges are serious,” Kirk said. “But I’ll be there for you and Liz through this.”
Kirk felt as if he were telling a bold-faced lie. How could he support a felon? But then again, why would Brian be so open about it if he were guilty? No, he must be guilty. A colleague of Kirk’s had said that denial is common in abusers.
Brian seemed satisfied with Kirk’s reply. “That means a lot, Pastor,” he said. As Brian left, Kirk let out a long breath. What will dinner be like at his home tonight? he thought. He felt sorry for Liz and thought about their son, away at Boston College–did he know about this?
The next Tuesday after the board meeting, Kirk asked Ken to stick around for a few minutes. Ken looked tired. When Kirk mentioned that he had talked with Jennifer, Ken hung his head.
“The less we talk about it, the better,” he said. “The further this spreads, the worse it’s going to be.”
For a moment Kirk thought Ken might break into tears. A look of confusion crossed his face, but then his wiry frame stiffened. “I’ve been praying for you,” Kirk said. He felt a little awkward putting his arm around Ken’s shoulders but did it anyway. “I’ll be there for you if you want to talk.” Ken thanked him and left.
Kirk soon learned that when Jennifer broke the news to her father and mother, Ken and Beth paced their family-room floor the entire night. They picked up pictures of their daughter and grandson and held them to their chests and burst into loud sobs. The next morning Ken had angrily confronted Brian at a job site. The two almost came to blows when Brian called Jennifer a liar.
I’m over my head, Kirk thought one day while driving home. I’ve got to refer Jennifer immediately. … Pris would be perfect. Dr. Priscilla Conrad also attended the church. She was a veteran Christian psychologist, and Kirk respected her judgment. But first he must see Jennifer one more time. He had to make sure she was positive about Brian.
When Kirk saw Jennifer again, she agreed to see the counselor. “I trust her instincts,” Kirk said. “Pris has lots of experience. I refer to her often.”
Then he pressed Jennifer. “Are you absolutely sure Brian was the one who abused you? Could it be anyone else?”
Jennifer’s face tightened, and she leaned forward. “I’m absolutely sure.”
“The picture you have in your mind is Brian, right?”
With that Jennifer stood up, her voice rising. “Pastor Kirk, you know nothing about sexual abuse. You have no business questioning me.”
“I believe you, I believe you,” Kirk said. “These charges are serious. I just want to be sure.”
Jennifer snatched Priscilla’s business card out of Kirk’s hand and walked stiffly out of the office. Kirk felt a twinge of guilt–and a little anger. He didn’t mean to be insensitive. He wished he’d taken more counseling courses in seminary.
FALLOUT
After the emotions were spent, a deep hurt settled over the Hutchenson families. Jennifer started seeing Pris once a week for therapy and joined a support group for victims of sexual abuse. Within several months, though, she and Rob were divorced, and, despite a fierce court battle, Jennifer got sole custody of their son.
Liz and Brian’s marriage, however, seemed to have survived its knockdown. Liz had thrown her lot with Brian. But Kirk wondered how she could trust him. Wouldn’t she always wonder? Kirk didn’t talk to them a great deal.
Ken and Beth appeared together on the outside, though when Kirk saw them at church he often thought he saw their eyes well up. He never saw them speak to Liz and Brian. From time to time, Kirk stopped Ken in the church hallway and pulled him into his office and asked about his family. Ken never said much, but one time his lower lip began to quiver.
“Who am I to believe?” he said as his eyes filled up. “Things will never be the same.” He sobbed so hard his body shook. At first Kirk thought he might be having a heart attack.
While some of the family had quit talking to each other, no one left the church. Sunday mornings Ken and Beth sat in their usual pew near the front of the sanctuary. Liz and Brian generally sat in the back, and Jennifer with her son on the opposite side. After the service, Liz and Brian usually scooted out before Kirk could shake their hands. They stopping having Sunday brunch with Ken and Beth at the Old Main Inn.
Kirk made a special point to hug Beth each Sunday. She had lost a son-in-law in the divorce and a brother-in-law through isolation. Maybe he could be like a son to her right now.
NUMBING FEARS
A busy pastor, Kirk tried not to let the Hutchensons’ problems consume his time. But he kept in touch with Jennifer’s therapist, calling every few weeks. Pris would say Jennifer was healing but needed more time. Six months after the revelations, Pris asked to see Kirk.
On a Wednesday afternoon, she strode into Kirk’s office wearing a business suit and clutching a briefcase. She asked how things were going at the church and mentioned how much she enjoyed Sunday’s sermon. She was here to discuss the situation with Brian.
“What have you observed of Brian in church settings?” she asked. Kirk told her what he knew, which wasn’t much, and near the end of the conversation said he also had a few questions.
“What is the memory Jennifer has of her abuse?”
“She is lying in the grass behind her uncle’s house,” Pris replied. “She feels numb all over, she hears Brian’s footsteps, and then she is overcome with fear.”
Kirk waited for Pris to continue, but she didn’t.
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s the only memory she has?”
“She has others,” Pris said, “but that’s her primary one.”
“Is it possible she’s mistaken?”
“Victims don’t make mistakes,” Pris said sharply. “Statistics show that repressed memories are most often true.”
“But shouldn’t Jennifer at least apologize for dumping this on the family? I mean, shouldn’t she have waited before something more concrete came out?”
“You don’t understand victims,” Pris said. “You will hurt the process of healing if you push her to apologize. She had to speak out and expose the secret.”
Pris then turned the conversation. “Why haven’t you confronted Brian yet?” Kirk thought for a moment and was about to respond when Pris pressed her point. “Are you afraid of confrontation? You know he is lying. Perpetrators always deny their actions.”
In fact, Pris continued, for full family healing Kirk also needed to confront Ken. Jennifer’s problems had been made worse because Ken was an emotionally absent father and was never close to Jennifer.
“That’s not fair,” Kirk said. “What’s he supposed to do? What does Jennifer want him to do?”
“Why are you protecting him?” Pris asked. “Why are you afraid to confront this situation head on? Are you protecting yourself from pain?”
Kirk could feel the heat crawl up his face. I’m not on trial here, he told himself. I’ll do the right things at the right time, but I’m a pastor, not a prosecuting attorney.
After she left, Kirk felt the sting of her words. He wanted to do more, but what? Jennifer’s memory wasn’t much to go on, and he was beginning to have his doubts. Something didn’t feel right.
DECIDEDLY NEUTRAL
Pris continued to counsel Jennifer and brief Kirk about her emotional health: Jennifer was growing stronger, and soon she would be ready to confront her abuser herself.
Pris also reminded Kirk that he was shirking his responsibility. Brian and Ken needed to be confronted, and since he hadn’t done that, Kirk was now the “main obstacle to Jennifer’s healing.” His apparent skepticism about her abuse and passive response was “re-victimizing her.”
Kirk countered by saying he wanted to help, but Jennifer’s memory was too fuzzy for him to proceed with certainty. And if Jennifer felt her father wasn’t supportive enough, she needed to talk with him herself. But Kirk wondered how that could be. In the midst of this ordeal, Ken had paid for Jennifer’s nasty divorce and given her the down payment to buy a house.
Still, over time Pris’s comments began to seep into Kirk’s spirit. He was angry at Jennifer for unloading her secret in a cavalier manner without thought of anyone else. He was angry at the suffering he saw in the eyes of Ken and Beth, and Liz and Brian. He had never seen among family members such isolation. He was angry at the sex therapist, who seemed to have concocted a nightmare out of a few abstract memories. And Pris? She seemed to be pouring gas on an open flame.
Still, Pris was doing her homework. She had contacted Dr. Bruce Swenson, one of the leading psychologists in the Christian recovery movement and author of several books. According to Pris, Swenson had repeated the axiom, “Victims don’t lie,” and said that well-intentioned but unskilled pastors often cause victims more harm than good.
Kirk had never before questioned his call and gifts so much. What good was his training in theology when what seemed to be needed was expert psychological care? He felt as if he were bucking the entire psychological establishment of Christendom. Then one Sunday a board member asked to speak to him between Sunday school and church. He mentioned that Pris had told him that something was going on in the Hutchenson family.
“I don’t know any of the details,” this board member said, “but I hear you’re trying to protect Ken.”
“You don’t know any of the details,” Kirk snapped, “and you’re wrong.”
Kirk went home with his head about to explode. The stress of the past year had chipped away at his confidence. He had carried most of his self-doubt alone–not even telling his wife. But that Sunday Kirk called a friend who pastored in Chicago and unloaded on him the events of the past year. Kirk’s voice broke as he spoke of the indecision gripping his soul. He said he felt as if he were stumbling around in the dark.
“You need an outside opinion,” his friend said. “I’m stopping through next week to see my father. I’d be happy to sit with you and Pris for a few minutes.”
The next week Kirk’s friend met with him and Pris. After the session, the pastor said, “I need to take a course on how to interpret memories. I haven’t a clue how feeling numb and hearing footsteps translate into sexual abuse.”
Kirk felt a little better, but nothing had really changed. What should he do? He was weary of Pris’s psychoanalysis about his fear of conflict and why he avoided it. He knew himself better than that; he knew he would do something if the situation were clearer. But he couldn’t act unless he had something solid to act upon.
One day, while preparing a sermon, he read Deuteronomy 17:8–“If cases come before your courts that are too difficult for you to judge. … ” The words jumped off the page–even Old Testament judges found some cases too tough to decide. Kirk took comfort in that, and the wheels in his mind began to turn. He searched the Bible for other passages that could throw light on his uncertainty.
No one in Scripture, he discovered, was condemned without corroboration; by the mouth of “two or three witnesses” everything was established. He wanted to be as passionate about justice as God is. He felt for Jennifer, he really did, but accusing a man based on one person’s twenty-year-old memory? This amounted to a lynching!
One fall morning while jogging, Kirk made up his mind. A year had passed since Jennifer had made her accusations. He decided with finality that he would remain absolutely neutral. He didn’t have enough information, and he was no detective. He had to assume Brian’s innocence until he admitted his guilt or more concrete evidence surfaced.
THE OTHER VICTIMS
A week later Kirk met with Jennifer, and her face darkened as he informed her of his decision.
“What you are doing,” she sputtered, “will set me back years in therapy. You’re just protecting yourself. I suspected you didn’t have the guts to stand up.”
Jennifer stormed out of the office. Kirk spent the afternoon flitting from one thing to the next; he dreaded the inevitable call from Pris, which came the following morning.
“Over 50 percent of women have been abused,” she began. “Jennifer is not lying.”
“Perhaps not intentionally,” Kirk countered. “So are memories exempt from the influence of sin?”
“You are afraid to face up to the truth. Brian is guilty.”
“You say if a man refuses to admit to sexual abuse,” Kirk pressed, “he is in denial. That’s a double bind. He’s damned either way. Whatever happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty?'”
Kirk explained the teaching of Scripture that no one could be justly convicted without the testimony of two or three witnesses. In this case, there was only one.
“You’re hiding,” Pris said, “and using Scripture as an excuse.”
“It’s not my role to judge who is telling the truth,” Kirk replied. “I need to be a pastor to every family member, not just Jennifer.”
Pris protested, but Kirk didn’t budge. Near conversation’s end, she said she still wanted Kirk to be present when Jennifer confronted Brian. Kirk promised his support. One of his biggest frustrations was the way Jennifer had dumped her allegations on Liz. A tete-a-tete between Brian and Jennifer was long overdue.
After he hung up, he breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in months, he felt confident about his handling of the situation. The Word of God had given him something solid to stand on.
The next evening Kirk visited Liz and Brian for only the second time since Jennifer’s allegations. Before, he had taken for granted that Brian was guilty and felt awkward around him. Now he wished he’d been more of a pastor to him and Liz. His stomach churned as he rang their doorbell.
The next three hours, Kirk listened to their heartache. Liz spoke of the agony of weeks of wondering if the man lying beside her in bed had molested her niece. Brian spoke of his humiliation and of his rage. “If she ever makes a public accusation,” he snarled, “I’ll sue her for custody of her son. She’s an unfit mother.” Brian’s sudden anger startled Kirk, but then just as suddenly, Brian’s eyes filled with tears. He spoke of the weeks of silence between him and Liz and of his fear of losing everything that ever mattered to him.
It was dark when Kirk walked out to his car. His heart was heavy with their grief.
D-DAY
A few months later, Pris called to say Jennifer was now strong enough to confront Brian. What Pris suggested seemed constructive, and when Liz and Brian agreed to it, Kirk called Ken to let him know. Ken said he’d be at Kirk’s office in thirty minutes. He arrived with his lips pressed together and his face flushed. The veins in his neck looked as if they might rupture. He didn’t sit down.
“If this pushes Jennifer over the edge,” he fumed, “and she loses custody of her son, I will hold you responsible.”
Kirk’s face blanched.
“I’m sick and tired of this damn mess,” Ken continued. “This confrontation will only stir things up.”
Kirk had never heard him swear before. Kirk didn’t argue. He knew Ken wasn’t mad at him. Ken was a competent lawyer, but this was a case without winners and losers. Everyone was a loser. After he left, Kirk put his head on his desk. Would this debacle destroy even his friendship with Ken? Would he leave the church? Kirk returned to preparing Sunday’s message but he should have just gone home.
The night before the confrontation, Kirk was still tossing and turning at 4:30 a.m., so he read his Bible and prayed and then tried to read a novel he’d been working on for three months. Remember, he kept reminding himself, keep calm. Be objective. Be a presence for Christ to everyone. He was counting on the confrontation to bring clarity to this conundrum.
Shortly before the confrontation with Brian, Jennifer met with Liz in Kirk’s office. Jennifer had requested the meeting. It was their first conversation in more than a year and a half. Kirk watched.
“I never meant it to come out that way,” Jennifer said, opening the conversation.
That’s not much of an apology, Kirk thought, after all the damage it caused.
“But it’s true. Uncle Brian assaulted me.” Jennifer folded her arms and glanced over at Kirk.
“Here is my niece whom I’ve known since she was born,” Liz said slowly, “accusing my husband of thirty-five years. Who am I supposed to believe?”
Liz told of her agony in deciding whether to believe Brian or to start a new life without him. She spoke softly. Kirk was surprised at how little emotion both women showed.
“Your uncle has never given me reason to doubt him in the past,” Liz concluded. “I believe Brian, and I’ll stick by my husband to the end.”
Minutes later, Brian entered the office and sat beside his wife. Together they faced Jennifer.
Kirk opened in prayer, and then Jennifer spoke first. “What you did to me destroyed my life,” she said. She then read a brief statement typed out on a half sheet of paper. She concluded by saying she needed to hear Brian admit his guilt. Kirk kept eyeing Brian. Not a muscle moved.
“I’m sorry for whatever caused all this pain in your life,” Brian replied, “but I didn’t molest you. I have no recollection of sexually assaulting you.”
“What I remember happened,” Jennifer replied.
“I must have offended you deeply at some point,” Brian said, “for you to accuse me of this.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Jennifer kept her eyes locked on Kirk, and Brian reached for Liz’s hand. Somebody, please come clean, Kirk thought. He glanced first at Jennifer and then at Brian, and then realized they had reached an impasse mortals could not resolve. “Why don’t we put this entire matter into God’s hands,” he said. Kirk ended his prayer, “Lord, you know what happened, and we don’t. And while this may not get fully resolved until Christ returns, I pray for your grace for each person here.”
Silence hung heavy as everyone left. Kirk sat alone for a while and then went home and trimmed the bushes lining his driveway. It felt good to whack off a branch and have something to show for it.
WHERE CHAINS NEVER BIND
Pris called early the next week. She wanted Kirk to set up another confrontation. “Brian must be made to confess,” she said.
“There will be no more confrontations,” Kirk replied, “unless we have something more to go on. For now, it’s over, and there’s nothing more I or anyone can do.”
Pris made her case, but Kirk’s mind was made up. A month later, Jennifer called Kirk to say she was leaving the church for good. She said it was undermining her healing and that she couldn’t stomach listening to someone preach whom she didn’t respect.
“I hope you don’t get involved in a sexual abuse case again,” she concluded. “Next time, you’d better stick to something you know.”
Her words smarted, but Kirk replied simply, “I hope you find healing, and I’ll continue to pray for that.” When he hung up, he was surprised how calm he felt. Mostly he felt sad.
That afternoon, Kirk and his wife drove to Seattle to see the Broadway play Les Miserables, a date they’d planned for months. The play, set in France during the first half of the 1800s, is about a man named Jean Valjean, a thief. Kirk and his wife settled into their theater seats, and he put his arm around her. In the cool darkness he tried to put out of his mind the morning’s events.
Kirk watched as Valjean, because he is shown mercy by a priest, makes a fresh start and eventually becomes a wealthy factory owner. In his new life, Valjean promises a dying woman named Fantine that he’ll take care of her young daughter. Valjean makes good on his promise, even while being dogged mercilessly by his past. Near the play’s end, Valjean lies dying. Fantine, now an angel, comes to him and sings, “Come with me / Where chains will never bind you / All your grief / At last, at last, behind you / Lord in heaven, / Look down on him in mercy.”
Kirk covered his face with his hands. Something about those words. … In the auditorium’s blackness, the sorrow of the Hutchenson families washed over him. Tears ran down between his fingers. In his mind, he saw each suffering face. It might never be over for them. But there was a place where chains never bind. Only heaven would heal their grief.
Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal
Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
