One Last Methodist Try

Journey with me through trying to heal in the UMC from the UMC one last time.

It’s a weird place to be – praised by many for your grace and healing while still filled with a rage you feel deep in your soul.

You see, I was hurt by a church, The United Methodist Church to be exact. And in a myriad of ways by so many leaders of the church, including the very top - my former bishop. The hurt was caused in different ways, each specific to the person, or church, or collective group. No one really fully acknowledges the massive harm they caused in my life; just hoping I forget and move on.

In New Jersey, and several areas across the world, new bishops were elected throughout the summer of 2024 and started their positions September 1, 2024. We call our annual conference Greater New Jersey or simply GNJ, because it covers all of New Jersey, and some small regions in Pennsylvania and New York. A new bishop, Bishop Cynthia Moore-Koikoi was elected to our annual conference (and the one next to us- Eastern Pennsylvania) and given a missional assignment of healing both conferences she will lead. It was a broad goal without real details, at least to the outside viewer – I’m sure she personally received more detail and information. In January, Bishop Moore-Koikoi, and both annual conferences released the Journey of Healing: From Lamentation to Praise; a blue print of sorts of how our conferences were going to undertake healing as individuals and as an institution. I won’t get into the details, but it’s linked and you can feel free to peruse the steps of the plan, all of which culminated into our Annual Conference meeting in May as a celebration and praise.

While I am not egotistical enough to believe an entire plan is about me, I do know the need for healing from this church and its leadership very intimately.

I was made an enemy of the Church by my former bishop, many that reported to him, and his close confidants in the annual conference, including several high-level leaders. This never should have been my story.

I was abused by a pastor that I trusted and believed in when I was young. It took me an exceptional amount of time to come to terms with, disclose, and take action, and I’m sure I’ll get to all of those details somewhere along the time and space of this substack, but those details are for a different day; today we’re leaning into hope. I filed a formal complaint with The United Methodist Church, and in particular with the office of the bishop at that time. The “official” complaint process was fairly quick because my abuser surrendered his orders rather than going through any formal process. My bishop informed me the process was over, they’d pray for me, and I could continue to reach out to the support person I had recently requested if I wanted to. That should have been it. My story and challenges with the church should end there. I should have just received support and my abuser’s access to youth should have ended.

But it didn’t.

Our bishop never made an announcement or acknowledged he was under complaint for sexual abuse when he left. So my abuser spun a story; a one-night stand with a 50-year-old woman he met at a bar in California, and he needed to step down because he dishonored God, his wife, and his family. This story was forgivable to everyone around him, so much so, some of those close to him held an intervention for him because they thought he was throwing away his career. While some of those individuals didn’t know the real story, several of his clergy colleagues did – two I had told directly, and two my abuser told and/or included in the complaint process as an advocate.

He continued to run youth camps, like the one he met me on, guest preach in churches, lead bible studies, cover for clergy, and continue to actively engage in church leadership, in particular with several of the clergy that were well aware of the real reason he left, for almost 4 years.

Eventually my bishop did host a meeting for all clergy and share some off the details of my case, and why they should not work with him or allow him to serve with youth. This is probably one of the only helpful things this bishop ever did – although, justice delayed is justice denied. The harassment and lies, in particular by those strong supporters of my abuser, continued for years until this meeting to the point where I needed to move and change my phone number. Had my bishop stopped my abusers access to youth, AND provided any level of accountability to the clergy who continued to harass me and/or work with my abuser, perhaps those 4 years would not have been as difficult for me.

I’d also like to point out, this meeting took place at a time when I was becoming vocal about my experience – including attending the Women’s March with a sign I made with quotes clergy had said to or about me and my case and naming them directly. Was my bishop just doing a good job and finally following up? Was it coincidence? Or was it because my bishop wanted to get out in front of the story when I was going public? I’ll never really know.

The sign I held at the Women’s March. My bishop in his “report” would write this photo up as “Facebook postings of clergy who continued involvement in the JUNE Project stating the names of clergy and stating ”this is what misogyny looks like.”, a clear attempt to manipulate the truth and make me look crazy.

What happened after by my bishop and the institution as a whole was worse. I’d continue to be harassed by clergy. Lies would spread about me. Details of my life and abuse would be shared by people I had never met. SO.MANY.CLERGY. would reach out to me because they “cared” but really, wanted the tea so they could gossip too, or share with me their interesting takes on sex in the church, or they wanted the clout of saying they knew me and were “helping”. It would take me YEARS of practice and discernment to figure out which clergy were reaching out because they genuinely cared, and which would reach out for some internal need for themselves to make them look relevant or “cool” to their peers. I’m still not always sure when I meet a new clergy member where they fall, and I’m still learning how my name has been used and abused by some, BUT I am also far less trusting than I was in those early years. Clergy is no longer a trusted status to me, and you have to actually earn any level of trust from me based on our interactions and your behavior.

In 2022, I had finally exhausted what I thought was every single avenue within the church to get justice- the final straw being the realization the pastor I confessed to, who covered up my abuser, being appointed the chair of the committee on investigation- for those outside of the UMC, this is the committee that leads investigations into abuse. It felt like a slap in the face to have the person who covered up my abuse, leading the annual conference in investigations. I wrote to my bishop and said as much. He wrote me back and said if you have a concern, send an official complaint so it may be reviewed. So I do exactly that. The response? You’re outside the statute of limitations. I don’t think I was outside the statute of limitations the first 50 times I wrote to my bishop about that clergy person in all of the intervening years before.

So I decided that was the moment I had had enough. Nine years of no justice and harmful behaviors by those in and around the church was too much. So I filed a complaint against my bishop for ineffectiveness and unwillingness to perform episcopal duties as it relates to handling a complaint of sexual abuse. The letter I got back was bishops cannot be held responsible for how they handle complaints. This is important in what happens next, because that is NOT what my bishop shares when he shares the information.

Feeling defeated and that justice was no longer possible I sought to just share my story not altered or adjusted through the lens of church leadership. In January 2023 I submitted as legislation to my annual conference my narrative of my own story and how my former bishop failed me in clear and direct ways including his responses, lack of training, and failure to adequately respond, through a motion for censure, which I thought was graceful. I never expected this legislation to make it to the floor. I knew the leadership would do everything they could to make sure I didn’t get to present (and they tried). The point for me, was to get my narrative of my life out there instead of all of the rumors that had been spread through various sources over the years. If I couldn’t get justice, I’d at least have my voice.

Well, some clergy reached out to me and said they were going to help make sure I was able to share my story from the podium. I did. From the stage, my bishop would tell everyone at the conference everything I said was fully investigated and found to not be based in fact, a bold lie that I would never have an opportunity at the conference to respond to. Censure was ruled out of order because a bishop oversees the body, and is not a member of the body. BUT a quick thinking and thoughtful clergy member made a motion instead to send my legislation to the Northeast Jurisdiction Committee on Episcopacy (NEJCOE), the committee that evaluates bishops, among other things.

The NEJCOE established a special evaluation team that looked at everything that happened within my annual conference and the response from my bishop. As part of this process, each party was able to name additional “interested parties” that were essentially witnesses to each side. I made my list accurately and strategically. I named the 4 clergy who had harassed me, my support person, and the associate pastor at my church who had witnessed some of my bishop’s behaviors and had been included in some of his response, by him. My former bishop listed my current pastor, who had no knowledge of my case, the response, or the abuse, as a character witness against me. And worse yet, she agreed. This ignited a war within my local church and an action that can never be undone- the damage caused to my local church still present with divisions created that have not healed even after that clergy person was reassigned.

Ultimately, the NEJCOE completed their evaluation and issued a report to me, to my bishop, and to the annual conference which clearly detailed follow up required and next steps that needed to take place to prevent further harm. My bishop and the secretary would refuse to read this report and share the follow up from the annual conference report with the annual conference. My *new* bishop, shared the recommendations from this report this year.

I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I got real justice, but this process was the closest I ever got to someone really looking at what happened and how my life was so altered.

My former bishop would take one final horrible action to try and hurt me. The 98-page document he created to respond to the NEJCOE? He submitted that as a “report” to the Annual Conference session. In that report he included private identifying information, including my updated phone number and address, details about my childhood I had never spoken about publicly, and graphic details of my abuse. In GNJ we have what’s called the Implicit Bias Review committee- it’s a committee made up of clergy and laity on various committees, boards, and agencies. All reports and legislation are supposed to come to this committee before they get published in the annual conference pre-conference workbook. I am on the implicit bias committee and because I had submitted legislation (this time to update our sexual ethics policy and create a response team) I had opted to review the reports, unaware of what I’d read. He submitted this entire document as a “response” to my censure legislation the year before.

I was horrified to read the document in its entirety. There were so many lies and manipulations within it, and really personal private information. Imagine reading, submitted as a report to be shared with hundreds of people, some of the most graphic details of abuse you suffered. Reading it I had an immediate panic attack, which would continue for just about a week. I had to take off of work. I had to consistently remind myself I was safe and no longer in that environment. Knowing the day I received that was the same week my former bishop was meeting with the NEJCOE I sent a message to a person I knew on that committee. I obviously don’t know the details of what happened next with him or the committee, but I do know it was removed. What I don’t know is how many times it was read and downloaded from the google doc before it was removed.

The only notification we received was a short message “This is to inform you that the legislation has been revised. Bishop submitted a report as a placeholder for the Annual Conference Session to meet our early deadline. Yesterday afternoon, he met with the Episcopacy Committee to discuss the report. After their meeting, he decided to remove his report. The attached tracking sheet has been updated to reflect this.” As if this dagger in my heart could somehow just easily be removed and forgotten with an updated tracking sheet. To be told it was submitted as a “placeholder” was an insult to the intelligence of everyone on that committee. No reasonable person believes 98 PAGES is a placeholder. That man wanted to cause me as much damage as he could on his way out. And in some ways it worked, it’s one of the most hurtful horrific things our bishop did directly. I will never understand how a bishop did this or any of his previous actions, and how his staff supported him in so many of these harmful actions.

There is a rage I hold for this man, some clergy who harassed me, lied about me, or worse, and some of the staff that boldly supported and assisted in some of these actions. I am told to have grace and be kind, as if sharing what happened to me is worse than what was done.

Which brings me back to the Journey of Healing. I participated fully in many of the steps that were outlined. I named the harm, I prayed, I participated in the healing service, and I went to our annual conference and praised with a lot of folks. I received some apologies, too, from some fairly high-level staff. The jury is still out on whether they’re authentic and genuine or not, but I feel like that’s something only time will be able to tell, especially in how they treat me moving forward, if I stay in the UMC. I have been praised by some for having the meetings, accepting apologies and showing grace. I think on my good days that’s who I aspire to be. But the anger is still there, still right below the surface, and that forgiveness is a choice I have to make every day to try and move on.

So why write now? Simply put, I deserve the same healing others have gotten to experience. Years ago, when I first filed my complaint I kept an anonymous blog and while I deleted it after a year or so, I found it to be healthy to share thoughts and feelings and get them out so they don’t fester in me. I don’t think that sadness and anger is quite where I am now, having done a lot of self-reflection and healing, but I do believe in the benefits of writing and I’m giving it a try again. I don’t know what this substack will become. Maybe my healing journey, but also maybe some thoughts on the church, or more about the research I did in my PhD program on clergy abuse. Either way, I hope you’ll follow along with me.

I’m still always hesitant about whether to stay or leave the United Methodist Church. Can you really be healed in a place that caused so much pain? I’m not sure. I have reason to hope. We have a new bishop, who seems like she’s really trying to heal this entire conference, and my local church is getting a new pastor, that’s coming from out of state, which means he knows very little of me and everything that has happened, so maybe I have a chance to start over in some capacity. I was frustrated with someone in leadership earlier this spring and I told them, I was giving this church one last try. I can’t keep having my heart ripped out every other week and feeling so unstable, by a church, the place that was supposed to be healing. The place you’re supposed to be able to go to feel safe. Mixed feelings of hope and rage.

So here I am. Trying again. Leaning into hope. Choosing forgiveness for the apologies I received every day.

I’m giving it one last Methodist try.