New Wrinkle in Pastor Pedophilia Story

I have said a lot of critical things that needed to be said (never mind the other ones), and I have often been amazed to find out how right I was. Today I’m amazed again.

The pastor of my last church got arrested for molesting his niece. I’ve written about it. He and his wife are extremely proud people, and they turned their church into a cult where they were exalted as though they were somewhere between human beings and gods.

I have talked about their pride and denial, but I didn’t know how bad it was until today.

A friend of mine called me. He was an armorbearer at Trinity Church with me, and I believe he was a deacon at New Dawn Ministries, the church with the pedophilia problem. I don’t recall exactly. Maybe he was an armorbearer. He told me more about the story.

I’ll give you the version I believed to be true. The pastor molested his niece for years. His sister found out and raised hell on Facebook, accusing his wife of covering things up. The pastor confessed in front of the church and stepped down. Weeks later, he was arrested.

That turned out to be wrong. Something is missing, and here it is. His sister did not expose him right away. She told him they could work it out, provided he resign his position and leave the ministry completely. He would have to find another line of work. He stepped down at first, but then he changed his mind and decided to go back to work. That’s when she things went sour.

If you’re shaking your head as you read this, I don’t blame you. It is incomprehensible. This man was looking at decades in prison, and the mother of the victim threw him a lifeline. Instead of getting on his knees and thanking her for a completely undeserved opportunity to escape destruction, he decided to take his chances.

Long before I knew anything about the molestation, I had problems with the pastors because of their pride. They were doing obvious things to ruin the church. The music was deafening. The services ran three or more hours. They offended people with their cultish approach to their jobs.

You couldn’t tell them anything. They were like little defiant kids who wanted the world to know they couldn’t be pushed around.

I knew they were proud and that they were in denial. I didn’t know the head pastor was so deluded he was willing to risk prison rather than admit defeat.

My friend complained about people standing by the pastors after they knew about his crimes. The pastors’ brother-in-law topped the list. After things fell apart, he went on Facebook and posted a meme criticizing people for running after the “shepherd” was smitten or whatever.

If my brother-in-law raped a little girl (my own niece), I would beg her mother for forgiveness for associating with him. I would change the church locks, myself. I would physically restrain him if he tried to preach. I would shut down the sound system and tell everyone exactly what was going on. But his brother-in-law was also proud, and he was ambitious and combative, so he did the wrong thing.

The brother-in-law had problems with me when I was a deacon. He had no humility. When I heard something from God, and it didn’t line up with something he heard on TBN or from some prosperity preacher in Miami, he laid into me. He was not able to consider the possibility that God spoke to me, perhaps because I wasn’t Hispanic or because I wasn’t related to the pastor.

I would completely understand if the brother-in-law had advised people to forgive the pastor and pray for him, but supporting his ministry is unthinkable. We have to forgive, but we don’t have to be imbeciles.

The people who came out of this looking bad are the same people who thought I was a problem. I pointed out issues with the church, and instead of being seen as a helpful counselor, I was considered a traitor. If they had taken my advice, they would still have a church. It would be bigger. It would be more effective. The pastor would probably be working things out with his sister and niece. He would still have a job. The brother-in-law wouldn’t look nearly so foolish.

The pastor is on his way to the penitentiary, and he could get life. The other employees have lost their jobs. The brother-in-law lost a platform he used to promote himself. The pastor’s wife is dying from a brain tumor. I, on the other hand, am enjoying my dream of living in the country, I am no longer being maligned and abused as a church volunteer, and I suddenly seem perceptive to a number of people who used to think I was a crank. I seem smart, for saying what should have been obvious.

I’m not smart. Not about the pastors. A smart person would never have believed in these people. I was just passing on things I heard because I spent a lot of time praying. God might as well have told them to a goose, for all the respect I got.

I wanted the best for them. I couldn’t find a way to get them to receive it.

I’m a bad person, myself. I’m trying to confess and repent as effectively as I can. I don’t want to be self-righteous or proud with regard to the self-righteous and proud. I hope I don’t sound like I’m praising myself. I’m just expressing frustration at a terrible series of events which should have been avoided very easily.

I don’t find confession discouraging. I find it empowering. I get better answers to prayer as I work to clean myself up. I get more authority. I don’t give a crap about my self-esteem. Self-esteem is a lie. It’s a drug our brains manufacture to keep us from dying of shame.

Realizing what I am doesn’t make me sad. It sets me free. Try explaining these things to someone who is obsessed with the fact that God has forgiven him. They think it doesn’t matter what they do or think. They seem to think God adopted them because he admired them so much, not because he pitied them.

When you’re looking at a life sentence, and someone offers you a way out, you take it, and you make a point of showing that person your gratitude for the rest of your life. To do anything else is to pronounce sentence on yourself and put yourself in prison.

Not only was I right about the pastors; I was more right than I could have imagined. I won’t say I wish I was wrong, because that’s a stupid thing to wish for, but I wish they hadn’t turned out to be so disappointing, and I wish they were not being destroyed.