We all must reckon with abusers

Warning: the following content relates to crimes of abuse and could be both upsetting and triggering.

Recent headlines have reported on the shocking case of Stephen Ireland and David Sutton, both jailed for multiple child sex offences. The former has been a prominent LGBT advocate and campaigner, was a founder of ‘Pride in Surrey’, and cultivated significant relationships with local police — drawing added attention to the case.

These are appalling crimes, and the revelation that the perpetrator had been deeply embedded in a moment as popular as Pride must add a sense of consternation and helplessness for many. In the wake of the sexual revolution, the LGBT movement, and events like Pride, play a special role in our culture. They possess a moral authority, standing for authentic self-expression and liberty from oppressive norms; as a result, they have real influence across a range of institutions.

Evangelical Christians in the UK must be able to empathise, at this point. The names trip off the tongue: Ravi Zacharias, John Smyth, Mike Pilavachi, David Fletcher and others. Many of us will have experienced the sickening sense of consternation and helplessness, even betrayal, in discovering shocking abuse perpetrated by honoured and trusted leaders, sources of moral authority in our Christian communities. What might we have learned, for situations like this?

We need to ask hard questions

One thing that strikes me is what questions we allow ourselves to ask, in the wake of these revelations. When evangelical leaders are seen to have been abusive, it’s not long before some ask whether evangelical theology is abusive. And we bristle at that — it is extremely uncomfortable, and potentially destabilising, to give any oxygen to that question. All our self-protective, face-saving instincts kick in, and we find ourselves motivated by tribal thinking. With an ‘us vs. them’ mentality, we are loath to give our opponents any ammunition — so we shut the question down.

But we must ask that question — all of us. If “ideas have consequences” (to borrow the title of Richard Weaver’s 20th century study), then it isn’t just our opponents’ moral failures that should raise uncomfortable questions. For the LGBT ally who sees evangelical Christians as bigoted, it will seem undeniable that evangelical theology has sheltered abusers. And we should be humble enough to ask whether, how and why that has happened. That is a question worth asking — just as our culture ought to ask whether, how and why the ideology and institution of Pride has sheltered abusers. Cases such as John Smyth’s are worth asking hard questions about. So, too, are cases like that of Stephen Ireland.

What will not do, at this point, is inconsistency between ‘us’ and ‘them’. When ‘their’ system has harboured abusers, that is proof enough to write ‘them’ off entirely; when ‘our’ system has done the same, all that proves is that there are some bad apples in the bunch. Nothing to do with ‘us’ — so ‘our’ cause can and must advance. It is so very easy to do. But it is fatally lacking in curiosity, and will leave us mired in self-deception. And — painful and messy as it might be — there are remarkable riches in the gospel to ask these questions.

For one thing, we are under the Lord’s authority; He is holy, the One who is good and does good (Psalm 119v68), and His commands teach us what is right and true. In Scripture, He speaks to us clearly and in a way that stands over us, not the other way around. He is our authority, above any human interpreter or institution, all of which are only valid to the extent that they meet His standard. This ought to relativise all human claims to authority — we should be very wary of putting any human leader on a pedestal.

For another thing, Scripture is devastatingly clear about the sinfulness of the human heart, "deceitful above all things and beyond cure" (Jeremiah 17v9). As an attitude of heart, sin insinuates itself subtly into our desires, choices and actions; it deceives and entraps. This reality should also keep us from uncritical loyalty, and should teach us to value humble, penitent faith more than charisma, gifting or privilege.

The gospel helps us

Put the two together, and the gospel provides the resources we need for asking hard questions in the face of scandal. Since the Lord is our authority, we have an unfailing source of truth that can judge us and our actions. His holiness is not compromised by our failures; "if we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot disown Himself." (2 Timothy 2v13)

Since we know how deceitful our sin is, and how deep it goes, we pursue a healthy self-suspicion. Yes, as I once heard at a conference, "the truth is always pastoral" — but I’m not, and neither are you. Our theological convictions may be Scripturally defensible, and of impeccable pedigree — but that doesn’t stop them being held (and wielded) by profoundly warped people.

Asking questions like this feels intensely threatening, but the only things that are really in danger are our pride, which loves to look down on others from our moral high ground, and our idolatrous attachment to institutions and influence. Asking such questions is part of how we obey Hosea 10v12, and obtain its promise: "Break up your unploughed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers his righteousness on you."

Only having done this can we turn the question back to the world. We all feel that abuse of this kind is unspeakably evil. But in a world of time, matter and chance and nothing more, how can this ever be more than a feeling? We all yearn for the life-giving power of sexuality to be expressed rightly rather than exploitatively. But how can we look at cases such as Stephen Ireland’s (and there are many more), and conclude that the 21st century sexual ethic is fit for that purpose?

The evil deeds of Christian leaders are to be lamented — but it is only according to Christian standards that they can be recognised as evil. Can we abandon those standards, for so long the soil in which our culture has grown so fruitful, and expect nothing to change?

If you are affected by any of the issues raised in this story, help is available via: FearFree Support (https://www.fearfree.org.uk); the Safe Spaces helpline on 0300 303 1056 / safespacesenglandandwales.org.uk; The Samaritans helpline - 116 123; The National Association for People Abused in Childhood napac.org.uk.