Anne Marie Miller

Category: Justice

  • Anne Marie Miller’s Victim Impact Statement after Guilty Plea from Mark Aderholt and Other Women Come Forward

    This morning, I had the opportunity to do something I never thought I would be able to do, emotionally or logistically: tell Mark Aderholt how the sexual abuse he inflicted on me as a teenager affected me, and that I forgave him. I did both at his hearing today at the Tarrant County Courthouse.

    Sarah Smith, who first shared my story last year after Mr. Aderholt’s arrest, wrote about the hearing here. She has become such a trusted friend in the last year. Just a day after coming back from an overseas (much needed) vacation, she traveled all the way up to Dallas to be present. The gallery was full of supporters: friends from twenty years ago and friends I met just today who have been fiercely encouraging over the last year. My family was there, and Tim stood by me as I read the statement. I am eternally grateful for everyone who was there in person or in spirit.

    I wanted to touch on a couple of things before you read the statement:

    • Mr. Aderholt was charged with a fifth crime: assault causing bodily injury. This is the crime he pleaded guilty to, and it’s a misdemeanor. I knew of this plea deal ahead of time, and knew of the sentence it likely carried. The judge did hand down the maximum sentence for this crime, but many people have expressed how the punishment is not fitting of the crime. He will not be on any registries and as long as he keeps the terms of his probation, there will actually be no record of his crimes on a background check.

      Over the last year, I have learned how unspeakably complicated the criminal justice system is. So many variables go into each and every case. While I think we all can agree that Mr. Aderholt is not facing the criminal penalty he should be, the DA’s office asked for my input and wishes during plea negotiations. This included taking into consideration the emotionally charged prospect of a jury trial, facing a relentless and brutal cross-examination by his defense attorney, the impact of a trial on my family and a potential verdict of not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. I fully trust the prosecuting attorney and the final outcome. For what it’s worth, I do not believe this will be the last time Mr. Aderholt is in a courtroom. I know the court of public opinion (and media) are appropriately convicting of his actual offenses, should he apply for a job in ministry and the organization does a quick internet search.
    • You will notice in my statement a very important paragraph and relatively new development: I am not the only woman Mr. Aderholt has taken advantage of sexually. While these stories are not mine to tell, they are first-hand and disturbing. They have been authenticated by an independent party. The other women helped me write this and it was with their approval that I could share this in court. They can and should (and will) keep full agency of their stories. I believe there are even more people out there who have been affected by Mr. Aderholt’s manipulation.

    Others have come forward in the past few days and shared that you used their vulnerability for your sexual gratification, at times even doing so after you were told to stop.

    -Anne Marie Miller, Victim Impact Statement for Mark Aderholt
    • When I read the statement from Mr. Aderholt’s attorney, Justin Sparks, I literally almost threw up in my mouth. This does not reflect the plea agreement in the courtroom (the judge said something to the effect of “are you pleading guilty to this charge because you are guilty of this charge?” to which Mr. Aderholt agreed.) To hear that he still maintains his innocence and he agreed to this only for the sake of the lesser punishment and for his own “closure” is reprehensible and indicative of how truly deceived this man is.

      Mr. Sparks’ statement is a complete lie. Mark did plead guilty to the crime of bodily injury. If he “maintains his innocence” that just proves he either lied to the judge (hi, perjury!) or he is lying through his attorney. One more notch in the deception belt. What is on record, his pleading guilty, is the truth. What he said in the courtroom is the only thing that matters. What he said to the media is what he pays his lawyer to do: spin the truth. “Mark agreed to this result because the original allegations were abandoned and for closure.” WRONG. He pleaded guilty because he said he did it. Check the court records. Defending someone to the best of your ability is your job, Mr. Sparks. By saying he took the plea deal for reasons other than his admission implies he lied under oath when he pleaded guilty.

      Also in Mr. Sparks’ statement, he makes it seem like the DA just gave up on the case and whipped out an offer. This is TOTALLY false. We had always prepared to go to trial. On the last docket, the defense approached and asked for time and if the DA would consider a negotiation as an alternative to an open plea (trial by judge). We agreed and they came back to the DA’s office with the desire to have the charge changed to a misdemeanor. He is taking advantage of the fact the DA’s office cannot comment on cases so he can literally spew any kind of false information without accountability. I’m here to tell you every insinuation in his statement is 100% false.

    I am so glad this is over. As I state, this is the end not because of any confession or admission of guilt (which, even though he said the word, “guilty,” he evidently didn’t mean it after all), or him asking me for forgiveness (he didn’t even look me in the eye one time in the 10 minutes I read my statement, even though I said I would like to look him in the eye to tell him).

    It is over because I have spoken the truth into the world and I have forgiven him. The only lies that have any power any more are the lies he tells himself.

    Thank you for all of your support and prayers over the years, especially this last one. I’m going to sign off for a couple days and cuddle my little girl and celebrate the end of this with my family.

    Honorable Judge Hagerman: I want to thank you for this opportunity to give this statement. I would also like to thank Mr. William Knight and Detective Charles Cisneros who wisely and compassionately utilized the criminal justice system to hold Mr. Aderholt accountable for his character and actions.

    And before I address the defendant, I want to express gratitude to my husband Tim for supporting me with enduring and sacrificial love during this turbulent time, to my family and friends, including those standing with me today in flesh and in spirit, for their encouragement, love, and prayers, and to our daughter Charlotte who gives me the strength to move beyond this trauma into a courageous and joy-filled life.

    Now, I would like to address the defendant, Mr. Mark Aderholt.

    My family moved from Abilene to Arlington a couple of weeks into my junior year of high school, and I was completely alone. I knew nobody outside of my family and my parents were desperately trying to make ends meet. I was questioning my faith for the first time in my life because of the way the church treated us before we moved. I grieved the rich community I left behind, so I tried to do the one thing I knew how to do in pursuit of finding friends: be the good Christian girl.

    Because we weren’t going to church, I reached out to several pastors on America Online trying to find someone who could help me start a See You at the Pole event at my school. You responded to my email and we met at a McDonalds at the Hypermart off Cooper and Bardin in Arlington. After my mom met you and went to do her shopping, we talked over french fries. When we were done, we went to find my mom and the two of you exchanged seminary and missionary stories before we went our separate ways.

    My See You at the Pole event failed completely and I was having a crisis of faith and identity. You encouraged me to not give up, and you invited me over to your apartment to talk and pray.

    Finally, I thought. A friend.

    I went to your apartment, a bottom floor one bedroom in North Arlington. As we spent time together, we got to know each other. You told me about Pampa and your time at Wayland Baptist and your mission trips and your school. You told me about your family and your sisters—one was my age, give or take. 

    We had fun: We went to Kroger in your blue Grand Am and bought ice cream. You took me to have dinner at Razoo’s in Sundance Square. You kissed me and we acted silly at Greenbriar Park when a car flashed their lights at us. “Let’s give them a show,” you said. I wanted to buy a yellow truck like the one you parked next to at your apartment. You said girls who drove yellow trucks were hot.

    I felt blessed to have you, this man of God, as my friend. We sat on your floor to watch a movie. As your arm brushed against mine—and then stayed there for a moment, I remember feeling nervous but excited. Did you want to be more than friends? You held my hand. You kissed me. And then you kissed me more. 

    On the floor next to your TV, you were on top of me kissing. You rolled off of me for a moment and propped your head up on your arm. You asked if I was a virgin and I awkwardly said yes. You told me you weren’t, that you lost your virginity when you were 13, but it was a mistake you wouldn’t make again.

    You continued kissing me and your hands wandered all over my body. No boy had ever touched me the way you touched me, or in the places you touched me. And you were no boy. You were a man, almost a decade older than my sixteen years. I was afraid to say no, afraid that I would lose one of my only friends. 

    We met many times over my junior year in high school. And out of nowhere, you ended it.

    You told me you were engaged and getting married later that year to a girl you met overseas. She was coming back to the states in the summer and could never find out about us. 

    That was the moment everything changed. Beyond violating my body, when you told me to never talk to you again, you broke my spirit. 

    The world was no longer safe and even the Godliest of men could not be trusted. I was just a body with breasts and hips and thighs and other things too intimate to name. I felt ashamed of what we did, humiliated in my naïveté. You didn’t care that I was already lost and alone and hurting when I met you. In fact, you took advantage of my vulnerability. I was the least likely person to tell anyone what you did. And although it took some time, you were mistaken.

    When I turned 25 and was mentoring a 16 year old girl, I had a revelation just how inappropriate it was for you to pursue a romantic relationship with a girl who had only recently earned her drivers license. I realized you intentionally and dishonorably harmed me and violated me in the most intimate way. This wasn’t a bad break up: You manipulated me. 

    You sexually abused me.

    I told leaders at the International Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention what you did, and after they investigated it, they determined I was telling the truth. But they let you resign and over the next decade, you were promoted in your career in the SBC. I could never reconcile why they’d let you do that. It didn’t make sense. Now we know that you continued advancing because you were dishonest with everyone about your past. 

    When the #MeToo movement was going viral on social media, I was mostly offline, busy as a new mom, changing diapers and starting nursing school.  As I looked down at my daughter and reflected on an article a friend sent, I thought to myself, “What am I going to tell her when she’s older? How am I going to make the world safer for her?” Surely there was something more I could do. 

    I decided to report you to the authorities and go public with my story, knowing it would be a step to reclaim the truth in this false narrative you directed for so long. Knowing it was a step to put an end to the power of your dishonesty. 

    On July 3, a year ago tomorrow, you were arrested.

    I am grieved your family has experienced such pain because of your actions. However, you also need to know the dramatic and traumatizing way your disregard for me as a woman and as a sister in Christ has affected me.

    Nine years ago, I checked myself in to an inpatient counseling facility. I was diagnosed with complex post-traumatic stress disorder because of what you did to me.

    I wanted to heal: I wanted to be able to not have a panic attack or feel a searing pain between my legs when I had sex. I didn’t want to shake with fear every time I saw a mid-nineties blue Grand Am. I wanted to drive down Highway 360 to visit my parents without getting nauseous when I passed your old apartment. I didn’t want to feel dread driving by Greenbriar Park every time I went to spend time with my grandparents. Even this year as I would visit my dying grandmother, I would see that park. Something as sacred as her final days were cloaked in the shadows of evil from when you sexually abused me.

    During the investigation last year, there were days I couldn’t get out of bed because of my anxiety. Our daughter, who had just taken her first steps, toddled to the bedroom door saying,  “mama, mama” and my husband would redirect her saying, “mama’s sleeping,” even though I wasn’t. I was so exhausted, but yet I couldn’t stop crying. I thought my husband and daughter would be better off without me: a broken, hopeless person.

    Mark: you need to know that what you did to me made me want to kill myself many times. I even tried once a few years ago, but I couldn’t figure out how to work the gun. 

    On Mother’s Day last year, about a month after the investigation started, I headed to Nashville and went to inpatient therapy again because of my suicidality. While I was there, you were coming home from a mission trip, telling people about a fabricated lawsuit you were supposedly settling with me: a woman from your past who was suing you—something, by the way, that has never happened. When you were on your plane home, I was in an ambulance heading to Trauma Bay #2 of Skyline Hospital in Nashville, out of my therapy treatment two weeks early, because of a freak accident. During a game of baseball, someone lost their grip on the bat and it missiled into my jaw, breaking it in four places. I’ve had four surgeries, two bone grafts, plates and screws and braces and implants. My face will never be the same. 

    The cost of this accident and all of the mental health expenses over the last two decades has a price tag of hundreds of thousands of dollars. This is just one more way I’ve suffered because of the abuse, and it will forever affect my family’s financial future.

    When I first wrote this victim statement, I wrote about how I prayed that you were a statistical anomaly. I wrote about how I hoped I was the only person you sexually violated. 

    I have since learned you are not an anomaly. 

    I am not the only woman you took advantage of. 

    Others have come forward in the past few days and shared that you used their vulnerability for your sexual gratification, at times even doing so after you were told to stop. There are hearts everywhere damaged by your refusal to own up to what you’ve done. The truth is exploding out from all the places you have hidden it. You can no longer hide in the duality you live in. 

    Mark, here we are, face to face, 22 years after seeing each other for the last time. My heart is no longer broken. It has been rebuilt by love and faith and those who have helped carry it and patch it over the years.  I never thought I’d see you again, ever, but now I can and I want to look you in the eyes and tell you I forgive you. 

    I forgive you, Mark. For all of the pain, the time I had to spend away from loved ones, the fear of intimacy, and the financial losses. I forgive you for stealing the good I believed about the world and for damaging the image of a perfect and loving God who I still often doubt cares for me or protects me. 

    I forgive you. And my heart aches for the person-the man-you could be if you would just tell the truth and accept the responsibility that comes with it.

    I used to believe that in order for this ordeal to be over, you needed to tell the truth and ask me to forgive you. I know now that’s not the case. This is over because I have spoken the truth. It’s over because I have forgiven you. Your lies have no more power. 

    This is over, Mark. This is the end.

    I do pray, however, that it is a new beginning for you.

    I pray you begin to feel the pulse of conviction pursuing your heart. 

    I pray you begin to immerse yourself in the repentance and forgiveness you have spent your life proclaiming but never fully experiencing. 

    I pray that you begin to choose to live honorably and honestly for yourself and for your family.

    And I pray you will know the holy and saving power of God’s perfect and unconditional love. God loves you so much, Mark. Please ask for the strength and the help you need to be made whole. He does not forsake those he loves. He hasn’t forsaken me. He won’t forsake you either. 

  • A Note to Some Folks: Mark Aderholt Lied to You

    A Note to Some Folks: Mark Aderholt Lied to You

    I’ve been debating writing this post for some time. As news of Mark Aderholt’s resignation and subsequent arrest became public last year, I received emails (and a phone call or two) from people who knew him. Before he was arrested, and I assume when he started to figure out something was going on, he created an entirely false narrative to explain what was happening.

    From my understanding based on multiple sources, around the same time as he went on a mission trip to Hong Kong, he told people in his circles that he pursued a “normal” relationship with a woman (some said he “gave a sanitized version” of the story that came out in the Star-Telegram). That woman was accusing him of things that did not happen and sued him. He then told them that he was finalizing the settlement and the lawsuit would be settled shortly after he returned from his trip.

    This, on all accounts, is completely false.

    • He did not pursue a “normal” relationship with a woman in his past. He pursued a physical/sexual relationship with a 16-year-old girl. And, according to his written personal testimony (which I have seen first hand), he did this while he pursued a courtship with the woman who is now his wife. He met her shortly before he returned to the US in 1996 and said he knew around the time they met that she was the woman he was going to marry. He sexually abused me from September 1996 through April 1997. She returned the summer of 1997 from being overseas and they married in December 1997. They later moved to Hungary to serve with the IMB.
    • The only time I have ever communicated directly with Mark after he was married was in 2006, when I emailed the email address listed on his missionary website. I did this at the suggestion of my (non-licensed) church counselor. The letter was to state the facts of what happened to the best of my memory, let him know that I forgave him, and I think that I was moving on with my life (though I don’t remember for sure on that last part. I know it was what I wrote in my journal about sending the letter). I never got a reply to that.
    • Given that, I have never sued Mark or filed any lawsuit of any kind. I have never written a demand letter. I have never even hired an attorney to explore that or attempt that. The only time I have retained counsel was during my divorce in 2010, to make sure that everything was done by the book relating to my divorce filing, and that alone.
    • As such, there was never a lawsuit, so there was never an attempt to settle or a settlement. His claim of settling a lawsuit is entirely false. I have never sued anyone, though I explored the option to sue Milestones in Tennessee for damages after my jaw was broken in four places as a result of one of their recreational activities. However, for several reasons, I did not sue them. I’ve never, ever sued anyone or settled a lawsuit.
    • I wanted to make this information public because I have no idea how many people he lied to about this. In conversations with various people that knew him, they learned they were also lied to about the reason he returned to the US after he resigned (before he could be terminated) when the IMB determined he abused me and, once again said Mark did not confess to the full truth of the relationship with me. He told people that God very clearly called them back to the US to train missionaries and nothing about the fact that he would no longer be able to serve as an IMB missionary because he was determined to have been credibly accused of sexually abusing a minor.

    I know it’s hard to reconcile Mr. Aderholt’s apparent double life. He did so much good and was well liked by many. I was enamored by his personality when I was a teenager, and I trusted him too. It is my hope that he will decide to come clean and own his dishonesty, apologize and ask forgiveness from those to whom he lied. If you were a person that he lied to, I am truly sorry for whatever pain or loss you experienced. I’m here to answer any questions or provide any documentation you need.

    With sorrow for what’s been lost and hope for restoration and justice for everyone involved,

    Anne Marie Miller

  • Sexual Abuse Survivor Update: Mark Aderholt, International Mission Board & Southern Baptist Convention

    It has been over four months since Mark Aderholt, the man who sexually abused me in 1996 and 1997, when I was 16 years old, was arrested and charged with three felonies: two counts of Indecency with a Child–Sexual Contact and one count of Sexual Assault of a Child under the age of 17.

    This arrest made headlines because the Southern Baptist Convention’s mission arm, the International Mission Board, knew about the abuse, found it to be credible after an internal investigation in 2007, and did not report it to authorities or within the SBC, citing they could potentially face legal issues if they had let Aderholt’s future employers know that he sexually abused a teenager when he was a student at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. That’s why he was able to get a job pastoring in an SBC church two months after he resigned from the IMB, and climbed the ranks into a state convention executive position.

    Even after his arrest, the IMB held defensive ground until their then-president, David Platt, returned from remote Africa and found out about the “extremely disturbing” situation. He and Dr. Russell Moore, president of the SBC’s Ethics and Religious Liberties Commission (ERLC), called to apologize and asked what I wanted them to do. I said I wanted them to open up my case and others to make sure any sexual abuse or misconduct that was criminal was reported to authorities and to make sure there were no other victims during Aderholt’s tenure overseas. Platt went over his public statement to make sure it addressed everything I wished and that night, released it. The following day, SBC president J.D. Greear, who was also aware of the incident, announced the SBC was launching a sexual abuse study group which was funded $250,000 in September.

    I wanted to issue this update to address questions I’ve received since all this happened.

    • Mr. Aderholt will be facing the Tarrant County grand jury very soon–within the next few weeks from what I understand. I am meeting with the ADA and prosecutor for this case this week. If he is indicted, he will have the chance to enter his plea (guilty/not guilty/etc.)
    • I emailed the IMB to get an update and received a reply from the current interim president, Clyde Meador. Mr. Meador was aware of my abuse in 2007 and was one of the people I spoke to from the IMB about it back then. He said I should expect to hear from the third party investigators (I do not know who this group is) in fall. I have yet to hear from them.
    • I have not been contacted by anybody in the SBC about the sexual abuse study group and from what I have been able to see in my brief glances on social media, it appears relatively obscure as far as any actionable details.
    • There have been a few public panels put on by the ERLC and other SBC entities, but unfortunately, I have not seen any true action taking place that is any different than before.
    • I do not see anything new that helps prevent abuse, that is looking into past credible abuse, or that is offering support to known survivors of abuse within the SBC. At a minimum, I absolutely think there should be a fund to help survivors receive trauma-informed therapeutic help.
    • I’ve decided I need to do what I can to help other survivors. I’m writing and self-publishing a book called Healing Together: A Guide for Helping Sexual Abuse Survivors that will be out as soon as I can get it done. I am hoping by the end of the year at the latest. Following me on social media is probably the best way to find out about it if you’re interested. (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram)

    It may appear the SBC has a mountain of a task to climb and in many ways it does; that’s what happens when you allow crime and sin to dirty up under your rugs for so long.

    At the same time, it’s really not that difficult.

    How? They could be in contact with survivors to by writing a short email or a dialing up a quick phone call. Any words of, “How are you? How can we pray? How is your family?” from the powers-that-be who have made promises to reconcile these wounds would actually make a huge difference, at least to me.

    I have communicated my personal wishes and clearly stated that hearing nothing from the SBC would be painful. In a majority of the places where I stated this, those requests have gone unanswered. And as I predicted, the silence is painful. They know and yet they do not act.

    I was hopeful this summer when these big statements were made. That hope, however, has been tempered by silence and relative inaction. In my case, instead of closing the gap of mistrust caused by the SBC, it continues to widen…maybe a bit more slowly now, but the stitches are being torn apart and the wound is still raw and open.

    Lest you think I’m sitting in a puddle of tears, not all is in despair: I am most encouraged and supported by local authorities and law and order. Constant contact, support, sincere inquiries into wellbeing, victim support services, face-to-face meetings, “we want to make this right for you and here is how we are doing it,” and people keeping promises make the criminal side of this ordeal a bit more bearable. Also, a HUGE amount of support from online–other survivors, pastors I don’t know, and people I have met along the way–has also been a great source of encouragement.

    Nursing school is going well and we are excited to be in our new home for the holidays, ending what seems to be a constant stream of moving and rentals. Charlotte is 2 1/2 and it’s a fun and crazy age that has us laughing and crying and sometimes visits to urgent care for big bumps on heads. Tim’s work has been incredibly supportive in giving him time off to even financially assisting with some medical bills. Even a VPs Tim’s company of 10K+ employees pulled me aside once to ask how this case is going and how we are doing—he saw it in the local paper here. I was amazed he put the awkwardness away and asked, “how are you?” and it spoke life into my heart.

    That’s all I have for now. Don’t give up asking for what is owed. Don’t hesitate to report your abuse. Ask for help. And don’t give up hope, but at the same time, learn not to expect it from the places you think it should come from, like the church.

    That’s what I’m learning (again) anyway.

     

    [edit: Need to add this to my post: there are 2 leaders who’ve been constant & supportive of me in this situation: Ed Stetzer and Dr. Russell Moore. I understand many people have many different feelings about lots of issues surrounding them, but they have both been very supportive. Worth noting. I also know they hosted 2 of the panels I have mentioned that I’m happy for, but don’t think they (the panels) do much. However, I want to give credit where credit is due and we have been grateful for their prayers and support on many occasion.]

  • Finding True Justice and True Grace in a #MeToo #ChurchToo Culture

    Several times over the last ten years, I found myself in the city where the man who sexually abused me as a child lived. Most of the time I was terrified to accidentally run into him. Sometimes I became full of rage and fantasized seeing him at a gas station and attacking him. And other times I would get caught off guard by my grief and sit in my car weeping outside the hotel where I was staying.

    As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, the myriad of emotions I experienced changed as naturally as the Texas sky in springtime. Sometimes I’d feel guilty about the complexity. Other times I wouldn’t.

    I learned that each emotion had its place.

    In March of this year, when I found out the man who abused me was never reported to law enforcement, a strong desire for justice gave me the extra courage I needed to walk forward. I felt validated knowing the criminal justice system would handle what the Southern Baptist Convention would not–and could not–handle. I felt a sweeping loss as my mental health suffered. I burned with indignation as this man, who already has taken so much of my life by his actions, consumed more: I lost sleep, I lost time with my daughter and my husband, and lost the easy joy I generally danced in.

    There were parts of me that wanted to destroy him. There were parts of me that wanted to destroy myself.

    And again, each emotion had its place.

    As I worked with law enforcement, my detective encouraged me to not share the name of the man who abused me publicly until they had everything in order for the criminal case they’re working on. They understood this man’s current role and his access to vulnerable people, including children. Yet the benefits of not coming out with his name publicly outweighed the risks in regard to the integrity of the criminal investigation. I respected their wishes then and I respect them now.

    Somehow this felt right and good and okay. Even though the only thing that remained between me exposing the man who did this to me was a “publish” button, I have yet to have peace about sharing my story in such a public way, most likely because of the condition of my heart. Some people have gone public and done it in a way that glorifies God while respecting the criminal process. I would have shared out of a place of vengeance.

    I’m glad I had a little extra space to reconsider going public because, for me, it was not the right choice to make at the time.

    have courage and be kind

    Since I’ve been offline for most of the last two years, I guess I forgot how ruthless the voices on social media are…myself included. In the last month, since I shared my story online (without identifying my abuser), I’ve clicked on enough hashtags and read enough fodder to lose a little bit of faith in the world (and in myself).

    Don’t mishear: there are some pretty awful people who have done some pretty awful things. Many well-respected men and women, especially within the SBC, have had their skeletons come out and be displayed for all the world to see.

    In the court of public opinion, most are starting to pay a hefty price for their sins and for their crimes. I want to reiterate that the people who commit these horrid acts–and the ones who cover them up–are ultimately responsible for whatever consequences come their way.

    But in all of this, there is something I just can’t get my spirit to shake off:

    This court of public opinion–social media, newspapers, blogs–is not and should not be the final destination of justice. However, it seems as if most of us treat it as the highest court of all, damning those who have lied, cheated, stolen, raped, abused, and covered up to a man-made hell of Twitter firestorms, petty insults, unnecessary commentary, and misplaced desires to have the final word.

    I understand as survivors of abuse we feel like we have no voice and now we can say whatever we want, when we want, to whomever we want. There is power in rediscovering our voice.

    We cannot neglect our responsibility to be like Christ and we cannot evade the call to exercise wisdom with how we discuss these things, especially in public forums.

    Justice and grace are not mutually exclusive.

    Does the man who abused me, who stole so much of my life from me as a sixteen-year-old and over the last 22 years deserve the justice coming his way? Yes.

    Does he deserve grace? No.

    But here’s the thing: I don’t deserve that grace either.

    I don’t write this in a self-deprecating manner.

    I don’t intend to minimize what has happened to me or to the countless number of women and men, boys and girls, who have been abused in the worst possible ways, and in the name of Jesus.

    The humbling reality we are faced with in this and in every part of our life is the very basic tenet of the Gospel: God so loved the world that He gave his only son to die for my sins, for your sins, and for the sins of the man who abused me.

    This includes his sin of abusing me.

    It is a grace none of us deserve but all of us can freely receive.

    I’m afraid that the beauty of this grace is being buried alive by the permission we now have to speak freely. Life and death are in the power of the tongue, and in our attempt to bring the light into darkness, we are inadvertently suffocating out the Life the world needs to survive.

    As we enter into this new climate of finding freedom from abuse that happened to us, let us not use this freedom as an opportunity to cause harm to others in the name of seeking justice.

    Let us recognize the same God who sought us out and asked us, “Where are you?” seeks out all of us, even the criminals hanging on the cross.

    When reconciliation plays out here on earth, may we remember the love of God that has reconciled us is also available to those who have hurt us.

    May we give thanks that all of our brokenness is healed through the same holy man on the same holy cross. This man is near to us when we are brokenhearted and he is near to those who have hurt us when they are brokenhearted. He grieves for us when we are far from Him and he grieves for the world when they are far from him.

    As justice begins to shine like the noon-day sun, may our hearts also shine with hope and grace for ourselves, for others, and for the world to come.

    Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

     

  • Dear Sexual Abuse Survivor

    marydemuth-headshot-squareToday, I am so thrilled to share a guest post from my friend Mary DeMuth. Mary and I met when I worked at Lake Pointe Church in Rockwall, Texas. People knew I was writing and thought it’d be cool for me to meet a real author, so Mary came in and we chatted. She sent me a copy of her book and told me one day, maybe I’d have my book contract. Two years later, I did.

    Beyond writing, Mary and I share a common thread that’s a little more faded, a little thinner. We were both sexually abused. Though our stories differ, our hearts beat the same for helping others know there is hope beyond abuse. We have survived, and you can too.

    Here’s a letter from her to you. Or maybe to someone you know.

    Love, Anne

    (Get Mary’s Book Not Marked as an eBook here and a paperback here.).

    ***

    Dear Sexual Abuse Survivor,

    I don’t really like the word victim. Even survivor has a strange connotation. And I’m not too keen on victor. None of those words encapsulate what happened to you, the devastation sexual abuse enacted on your heart. But we’re strangled by language sometimes–even writers can’t adequately express horror.

    I much like the word BRAVE. Because it’s so darn brave to walk away from something like that. It’s brave to forgive. Brave to live your life in the wake of sexual trauma. Brave to hold your head high.

    First let me say I am sorry. I’m so terribly sad that sexual abuse is part of your story. It’s not right. Someone chose to take something from you–your volition and your body. That person (or people) violated you. They used their power and bully persuasion to overwhelm you with their sinful desires. And now you’re the one left feeling dirty and used–while so many perpetrators walk this earth free. 

    It’s not fair.

    Some of you feel shame and guilt in gigantic measure, heaped upon you. Some of you feel that you invited the abuse. The way you dressed. The hole in your heart that longed for attention. The equating of sex with love and affection. You feel you wooed the perpetrator somehow. Let me say this: A person who adores and loves you would NEVER EVER violate you. Never. Instead of violation, they would protect. They would pray for you. They would honor your boundaries.

    Someone’s selfish gratification is not your fault. Don’t own that. Dare to believe your worth, and allow yourself the feel the grace that God grants you. Forgive yourself. Let yourself off the hook. You were abused. You didn’t want it. Someone took from you–like a thief. They may have used slick words, threatened you, persuaded you that you wanted it, but it’s not true. Thieves are often liars.

    In sexual abuse’s aftermath, you’ve possibly thought of suicide. You’ve cut your skin until the blood came. You over-ate. You spent years hard as rock, bitter as horseradish, always vigilant–ready to fight. You’ve protected your heart with ironclad resolve. No one will EVER hurt you that way again. Not on your watch.

    All these coping strategies had good purpose a long time ago. They protected you. But now they’re strangling the life out of you. I only say that because I’ve walked the path of isolation and withdrawal. Actually, I spent about a decade of my life keeping the sexual abuse secret. And once I let the secret out, I decided I’d been healed, so I tucked it back away for another decade and lived inside myself–not daring to deeply engage my heart.

    An untold story never heals, friend. Isolation only masks the problem.

    That’s not living. It’s existing. It’s pushing stuff down that you hope stays submerged forever.

    Unfortunately, our stories have a way of coming out–almost always in our actions. We end up hurting those we love. Some people become perpetrators because they never deal with getting better.

    I know there are questions. I have them too. 

    • Why did God allow this to happen?
    • Why didn’t He step in and rescue?
    • Why do I have to suffer seemingly forever for something someone else did to me?
    • Why can’t I ever feel normal?
    • Will I ever be able to enjoy sex?
    • Why does my spouse have to suffer for something someone else did to me?
    • What’s wrong with me that I kept being violated?
    • Was I put on this earth to be stolen from?
    • Why am I here?
    • What was it about me that perpetrators found irresistible?
    • Why do other people keep telling me it was a long time ago and I should be over this?

    I want to assure you that these questions are entirely, utterly normal. And you should ask them. You should wrestle with them. Some of them will not be answered this side of eternity.

    When I feel overwhelmed by the whys and the whats, I stop a moment and consider Jesus. This may not resonate with you because you might be mad at Him. That’s okay. I hear you. But there is comfort in knowing Jesus understands.

    He took on the sins of everyone, including sexual sin, upon His holy, undeserving shoulders. He suffered for everyone’s wicked crookedness. And when He hung on a cross, He did so naked. Exposed. Shamed. Humiliated. Bleeding.

    NOT MARKED - FOR AMAZON 3DThat’s why, when I write about sexual abuse recovery, I have to involve Jesus. He has been the single best healer in my journey. He understands. He comes alongside. He “gets” violation.

    Sexual abuse is devastating. It pulls the rug out from under your worth. It keeps you scared. It infiltrates nearly every area of your life, consciously and subconsciously.

    But I am here to let you know there is hope. Though the healing journey is long, it is possible. When I tell my story now, it feels like I’m sharing about another person’s sexual abuse. I’ve experienced profound healing. It didn’t happen passively or quickly. I had to WANT it, pursue it. I had to stop shoving it down and bringing my story into the light–with praying friends, with counselors, with my husband.

    Today I enjoy sex. I can share my story without getting that vomit-y feeling in my stomach. The flashbacks are less and less. I still have moments, of course. But I am so much farther along than I had been.

    I want to end this letter with this truth: You are amazing. You survived something traumatic and horrific. You are reading this letter blessedly alive, connected to others. Your story absolutely matters. Don’t let the trauma steal your story of hope today.

    Joyfully free,

    Mary

    ***

    I’m humbled and grateful to be here today. A huge thank you to Anne for allowing me to share my heart. A little background. I’ve shared my sexual abuse story in the last few years, but I haven’t always been so open. Initially I kept it silent for a decade, then over-shared, then went silent another decade. The healing journey hasn’t been easy, but it has been good.

    About a year ago, I sensed God wanted me to be bold in sharing about sexual abuse. I wrote “The Sexy Wife I Cannot Be” on Deeper Story, which went crazy (so many comments), followed by “I’m Sick of Hearing About Your Smoking Hot Wife” on Christianity Today. The overwhelming response to those two posts prompted me to write Not Marked: Finding Hope and Healing after Sexual Abuse.

    The book proved too risky for publishers, so I decided to crowdfund it, which turned out to be an amazing success. I cannot believe that now I can hold Not Marked in my hands, and also offer it to you. What’s unique about it: It’s written from the perspective of a survivor. It doesn’t offer cliche answers. It’s honest. And my husband shared his unique journey of how to walk a loved one through their sexual abuse.

     

  • The Biggest Scandal in Church History

    Lately there’s been some recent scandals that have surfaced in the evangelical world. I won’t link to them, but it’s the stuff you hear about on a fairly regular basis: affairs, assumed affairs, embezzlement, frivolous spending, abuse. My Twitter feed has been bloated with links and articles on how men and women have fallen from their pulpits into sin and devastation.

    This morning I read a blog post a friend of mine linked to and cringed – not because of the scandal-du-jour, but because of the assumptions and accusations made by a person who is far outside of the situation.

    Recently, a public figure in the Christian world confessed to an emotional-type affair, saying (or implying) the woman he was inappropriately involved with and he did not engage in sexual acts. People have torn into his confession and resignation letter, projecting the assumptions that somehow they were sexually involved, that the man’s wife has no other choice but to endure and is probably ostracized from their community because it is one that is highly patriarchal. That this man will take some time off, but because of his authority and apparent brain-washing, will be back in power again soon. Assumptions are made about the other woman forever wearing a scarlet letter (some assumptions were made she was a virgin and unmarried, neither of which were mentioned in the statement).

    Water well

    I take two issues with this:

    1) So many assumptions are being made in this situation and others like it. Outside of what is stated in this man’s resignation letter, we know nothing.  As Christians, we are called to believe the best and to hope for the best in our brothers and sisters. I understand the temptation to dig, to find the “truth,” to stare at the car wreck, but we cannot do this. It only destroys the beauty of our own hearts as well as tarnishes another at the time when they’re most vulnerable.

    2) Although one, some, any of these “scandals” may be true to its worst assumption, we cannot let ourselves ruin a gift we don’t even have the right to have: grace. Grace is the biggest scandal in church history. It is something none of us deserve; something we’re given when we’re hiding in our sin and we meet our Saviour at the well. He offers us life, love, and hope: not condemnation. What will help someone who’s fallen “Go and sin no more?” Our gossip? Our assumptions? Our self-righteousness? Or our love, our encouragement, and our prayers?

    Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. – Paul

     

  • What Should Christians Do About Syria?

    I am not a student of politics. I look at issues, I vote, I read the news. On occasion, I’ll show up to a city council meeting if it’s something I really care about (like how the homeless are treated or where bike lanes need to be), but really, that’s about it.

    Living in a country that has been at war or intervening somewhere for most of my life seems…normal; I don’t know any different. Watching videos of people being affected by chemical warfare is horrific. I have a friend that works in a high level of government, so high, I don’t really know what this person actually does. I just know there are many overnight meetings at the Capitol that he or she participates in. When I ask if Hollywood portrays an over-the-top dismal version of what actually happens in DC, this person doesn’t answer. That makes me think things are complicated beyond anything you or I could ever imagine.

    So, Syria.

    A boy is treated by doctors and nurses after sustaining injuries from an airstrike in the Sha’ar neighborhood of Aleppo, Syria. (TIME/Nicole Tung)
    A boy is treated after sustaining injuries in Aleppo, Syria. (TIME/Nicole Tung)

    It’s been top on news pages and on news casts for weeks now. I’ve probably followed it as much as an average person follows it – mostly because I feel the need to be engaged and educated but I also feel helpless. I think a lot of us do.

    What can we do in our daily routines to actually influence anything? What should we believe? Who should we believe? What is a “Christian” response? What is a “Christian” response, anyway?

    I’ve been thinking on this, hearing debates from friends and reading forwarded emails with animated gifs of American flags and yellow ribbons. And I truly believe this is what we are to do.

    We are to pray.

    I imagine if Jesus was asked what He thought about Syria, or if we should intervene or stay out, much like he did with the yes or no questions He was asked, he wouldn’t answer yes or no. He would share a story, a parable, and point us back to a principle of the Kingdom.

    Jesus teaches us to pray Your Kingdom come, Your will be done…

    Paul instructs to pray for our leaders, and with thanksgiving make our requests known…

    What should Christians do about Syria? We should pray.

    It seems almost like it’s too small a response. Like it is the pat answer someone would give when they don’t know what to say. That humble words said over food or from our safe pillows in our safe homes in our quiet evenings would not be enough.

    But I believe it’s in these quiet and gentle moments of intercession that a much larger war is being fought and we are showing up and our words may be humble but they are bold and they are mighty because of the Spirit who intercedes for us.

    It is prayer.

    It is how we can fight.

    It is how we should respond.

    And this is how we should encourage others to participate as well. It is more powerful than a diatribe on Facebook or our emails with pictures of eagles.

    Pray. Encourage others to pray. Seek humility. Fast from something. And pray even more.

     

     

     

  • Are Forgiveness and Reconciliation the Same?

    I never thought there was much difference between reconciliation and forgiveness. In my heart, it all kind of meant the same thing – letting go of pain that someone had inflicted on me. Usually this involved some type of “making up” process involving apologies, sometimes tears, and a hug to make everything alright.

    Twelve years ago, somebody hurt me in a very painful, inexcusable way. For years, I didn’t allow myself to work through the pain as I needed to. A couple of years ago, circumstances (which were mostly out of my control) caused me to stare at this wound square in the face.

    As strange as it sounds, I’ve never doubted that I forgave this person. I feel fortunate that, for the most part, forgiveness comes easy to me. There are probably only two situations in my life where I know I still need to work on forgiving someone, but this particular hurt isn’t one of them.

    However, as I was processing through healing during this time, I began questioning if i really had forgiven this person. Sure, the scabs had been peeled off and the wounds were fresh – and it hurt…badly, all over again.

    Someone who was helping me through this sent me an email. He encouraged me and said that what I was experiencing wasn’t me being bitter or holding on (which was what I was afraid I was doing) but that I was desiring reconciliation.

    I wanted for this person to own up to the mistake and for everything – painful as it would be – to be okay again.

    And I wanted for the relationship to be harmonized and restored completely.

    Later, I read this in a book:

    Joseph was reconciled with his brothers when they came to Egypt in search of grain. By the time his brothers reached Egypt, he was able to stand before them and confront them because he had no inner feelings that would keep him from having a relationship of unity and peace with them.

    Forgiveness is unilateral. You can forgive even if [someone] never admits [their wrong doing], is never sorry, and never changes. But reconciliation requires both people’s commitment to recovery, honesty, repentance, forgiveness, and communication. Even then, reconciliation is a long and difficult process of breaking down barriers and building trust.

    You may not ever be reconciled with a person that hurt you (or that you hurt).

    That part takes both people to work through.

    Forgiveness is a necessary, but not a sufficient condition for reconciliation.

    However, forgiveness is a decision that you make, and continue to make, regardless of the other person’s choice.

    And through the cross and grace and love, you can.