Week 9

The discolored, funky-smelling jerseys made middle school P.E. bad enough. But the worst part was when teams were picked, and I was a reluctant last choice. Social exclusion was always harder than being overweight.

A best-selling apologist called me to talk about Ravi. He agreed that Ravi was a liar, a bully, and a predator. Then he suggested I leave RZIM quietly. "You have to understand, these women got paid. They weren't victims, they were participants." When I kept writing, he called again. He let me know that if I wanted to stay in ministry, I needed to tone it down. Soon after, he was doing events with a leader from Ravi's inner circle.

"This is the first time I've been able to sing a worship song since my pastor abused me." I didn't know what to say. As I listened to a survivor describe how her former church turned against her to protect their abusive pastor, I felt disoriented. How was she the problem? How common was this? Why didn't I know about it? But I did know that by creating a safe space for survivors, the RESTORE conference honored God.

"Titus 3:10. No reply needed." When I read her email, I gasped. I knew how to decode this message from an important leader in my ministry. She was saying I was divisive, and she was cutting me out of her life. But we worked together. If I had done something wrong, I didn't know what it was. I felt excluded and helpless.

"I appreciate what you're doing, but I can't get involved. I hope you understand." I did understand. Our family had two incomes, but he needed to provide for his family. If I were in his position, I might have kept my head down, too. But it didn't make being a whistleblower feel any less lonely.