Last week I wrote a Substack about the Christian call to “Stand.” Apparently, it struck a chord. Some of those who responded were already intimately aware of the danger inherent to the call. They’ve walked that walk and experienced the institutional push back. They’ve been branded with a capital “T” (Troublemaker), and they’ve learned each day how to mediate in their minds that they are considered the enemy. Others had a different kind of moment as they felt challenged to accept the calling. Come what may, they want to participate in the effort to bring back truth, free prisoners from oppression, shine light into darkness, confront evil, and help disentangle the God of the Bible from the god of the institution.[1]

Both audiences seemingly had a moment of realization. Standing is what ministry looks like. Sure, there’s a place for preaching and potluck, bible study and baptism, gathering and governance. But practically speaking, the mark of a true church is when members join with Christ in His mission. He stood against darkness and the powers of evil and so should we. Especially when wickedness happens within His Body.

Today I want to tell you about my sweet friend who responded to that call for me. Graciously, quietly, steadfastly she daily bowed before her Lord as He shined His light in her own heart, and then she shared that warmth with me.

I previously wrote about the moment I decided I could no longer meet with my pastor alone.

His attempts to coerce me into submission to our institution’s way of thinking made me realize I’d have a hard time recognizing when I was being gaslit. I knew there was a potential of my falling right back into my typical response of appease. So, I thought it wise to have another set of “eyes on,” one who could help keep my head focused and clear.

I knew exactly who to ask. She had a reputation.

It’s not the kind of reputation that meant she was trouble. Quite the opposite in fact. Her thick Bible, filled with ample markings, notes, and tags required a space of its own in her favorite pew. My friend was known to be a woman of God. Her Bible wasn’t the only way we knew that. Some folks in our circles are quite versed in theology and doctrine, but their minds are about as far as that goes. There’s a disconnect between their thoughts and their actions. Orthodoxy doesn’t inform orthopraxy. On a broader scale, this is most evident in ecclesiastical court situations. Process trumps person every time. I digress…

It was evident my friend loves theology by the way she relates to people.

I honestly don’t know how she does it. She’s married, she’s an amazing cook. She has grown children and grandkids who she often entertains at “Mimi’s.” She works. She and her husband host traveling students, or single folks in need of a temporary home (sometimes longer). She’s close to extended family, even caring for elderly parents in their time of need. Yet she somehow finds time to regularly meet folks for coffee. Take a suffering saint to lunch. Pour into a younger woman’s life and situation, encourage and mentor her walk with “the Lord” (as my friend can often be heard exclaiming).

This is how I knew she’d be able to stand.

Her “standing” was mostly covert. Only I would know that. She accompanied me, meeting after meeting after interminable meeting, she’d sit there thinking of the most effective way to encourage me when it was over. “They should be thanking God they have someone like you…” or, “If they are so committed to your care, THIS (their interrogations) could use some care!” One of the most reassuring things she did was speak truth. Those meetings were so full of gaslighting my head would spin when we left. My friend would calmly tell me, “Ya know,” (with her New Jersey accent) “When_____said____, that wasn’t true. What’s true is…” And then she’d remind me of something about who God is. In doing so, she steadied me within the divide my leader’s words insinuated, “You’re not one of us…you betrayed this community.” My friend recreated (and inhabited!) my community.

The pastor and elders would spend an hour and a half (or longer) trying to convince me my best practices in advocacy [2] were sinful (aka didn’t fit their authoritarian structure [3]), but my friend would share God’s heart. “The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble,”[4] she’d say. Then she’d tell me I did the right thing. Her encouragement sounded a lot like that of King Lemuel’s mother, “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” In caring for me, my friend demonstrated that God does still, in fact, reign in this world.

My friend smiled in the face of evil, and then she calmly and confidently encouraged me that I did not need to endure it. When it was over, she apologized. Knowing what we knew in the end, she felt responsible for letting it happen. She took the blame for my having to suffer.

As if.

My friend stuck closer to me than those who called themselves my “brother.” In the end, she left the “church” too. It’s hard for me to now see her suffer similar losses as my own simply for standing on my behalf. If you want to know who is “safe” to have standing beside you while you fight against evil in your midst, read this Substack again. Get a picture of my friend in your mind. Then look for someone who will do the same for you. Accept nothing less.

King David wrote, heartbreakingly, about his peer, his companion, his sweet friend. He shared how that person betrayed him. So often those of us who have experienced institutional abuse have lists of those kinds of “friends” in our situation. So often we’re overcome by the devastating rejection. But there are those who’ve stood in the opposite position. There are friends who stood by our side. If nothing else, we have an entire community (virtually speaking) who know—we’ve all experienced similar pain and deception. Let’s enjoy a “Festival of Remembrance”[5] of those with whom we have had sweet fellowship. Let’s put their deeds on display. These are the quiet warriors God is using. This is the army He’s forming. These are the unsung heroes (small “h,” of course) in our story.

Thank you, my friend. I love ya.

1. I’m finding it difficult to refer to the “local church” as a “church” these days. I just can’t wrap my brain around what we are seeing (with all the abuse, cover up, protection of church leadership, re-traumatization of victims, survivors, and whistleblowers) as what God intended. The current expression of Christ’s Body reminds me of the Catholic church at the time of the Reformation.
2. My best practices mirror those found in the PCA DASA Study Committee Report. The “church” where I was a member was one of the largest in the PCA.
3. Additional catch words and phrases to pay attention to may also include, “created order,” “special instruments,” “ordained,” “rulers,” “leader,” “head,” “unique privilege,” “essential worker,” “overseer,” “divinely appointed,” “dominion,” “order,” “divine authority,” “authoritative role,” “his calling,” “ordained shepherds,” “their shepherding responsibility,” “authoritative leader,” “spiritual authority,” “decision maker,” “divinely ordained,” “accountable,” “ordained leader,” “headship.” As with a similar list on my post (Let’s Start at the Very Beginning), some of these terms are biblical and can/will be used in a positive sense. For a better understanding in your context, you may want church leaders to define and clarify their position and how it might impact a caregiving ministry for the women in your church.
4. Psa 9.9
5. This fall, the Help[H]er ministry will release the first remember journal in the Festivals of Remembrance series. “Remember My Affliction” is an Advent devotional written to help those who’ve suffered traumatic experiences find and experience God. Subscribe to be the first to know when it’s available.