When charges of sexual misconduct are brought against a pastor, the denomination has to act—either to clear a name or clear the pulpit. And in either case, it wants to prevent further damage and begin the healing process. A New Zealand pastor on such an investigating committee jotted his reactions during the experience. Although names and details have been altered, this true story offers insight into pastoral temptation, sin, and guilt—and their effect on a church.
Sunday, March 3. Just before tonight’s service, Ian [the author’s senior pastor] called me into his office. He had been asked to help resolve allegations that a fellow pastor in our denomination was involved in an immoral relationship with a woman in his congregation. When he asked if I could travel with him tomorrow, I was surprised.
But when Ian told me the pastor’s name, my spirit plummeted. Not Tom!
I could hardly concentrate tonight while assisting in the service. I was thinking of Tom’s service, wondering what he was thinking as he stood before his people and realized that if the accusation is proven, this might be his last time. How would Tom handle the kind words spoken unknowingly to him at the close? Tonight he must have felt the freedom of their affection, knowing that next time it could be so different.
I still want to deny the whole thing. How can it be true? We have known each other so long. Tom’s a recognized spiritual leader, a father, a respected teacher and guide to so many of God’s people.
Dear God, this can’t be true. If Tom can be brought down, what hope is there for any of us?
Monday, March 4. Not much sleep last night. As I rushed to throw a few things into a travel bag, I wondered, Do I need to take my Bible? Of course, for all we do today must be based on the truth and mercy of God’s Word.
Ian and I caught the first flight out. We decided on the plane that whether Tom had done wrong or not, we wanted things to be as Psalm 85:10 states, “Mercy and truth have met together, righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” We both knew we also carried the bent toward sin. That realization tempered all we did today.
At the airport we met Tom’s young assistant pastor. He was attempting to be strong, to act brave, but I could see the pain in his eyes. He obviously hadn’t had much sleep or peace of mind recently. Suddenly a great burden of responsibility had fallen on him and the elders.
The commission—Ian, another of Tom’s pastor friends, the assistant pastor, three elders from Tom’s church, and I—met at the church. The elders had asked us to come after they had been told about Tom’s adultery by his wife, who bore the shock of an anonymous phone call. Out of fairness to Tom, the elders wanted us to sit in on their disciplinary hearing.
Today reminded me of my jury duty last week in a civil court. I wondered then how it would feel to sit in the judge’s seat. Today I found out when my brother in Christ stood before us. I wish it had been like the other times we met—a hug, a strong handshake, laughter, inquiries about our families. Not this time.
We were all embarrassed. What do you say? How do you act? Over polite handshakes, we looked into the eyes of a man who appeared devastated. Shame is a soul-destroying thing.
Last week as a juror I had to seek proof of the charges. Today, by his honest confession, Tom immediately convicted himself. A few minutes later, the woman also confessed.
There was no harsh condemnation of Tom or the woman. With our hands clasped tightly together, heads bowed, and tears running, Tom said, “No one can punish me more than I punish myself.”
I felt compassion, though it was still mixed with confusion. Why had it happened? We asked Tom, “Why didn’t you come to us for help? Couldn’t you trust us?” but Tom couldn’t answer. Maybe the pit was too deep, the top too far either to pull himself out or to seek the help of others. Still, I wish he had tried. We might have saved him from this terrible day.
The hardest part was the discipline we had to impose. We excused Tom from the room. I was pleased that our discussion was so harmonious. And I think the guidelines we came up with were sound:
1. No public ministry in any form for one year.
2. In that time, the true fruits of repentance must be seen.
3. Removal from the pastorate of the church (the one he and his wife had labored over for so long!).
4. Relocation to another area, where he will be under the care of a minister who will covenant with Tom to see a threefold restoration: of Tom himself, of his marriage and family relationship, and after that, of his ministry function.
5. Public confession before the congregation of his sin and repentance, and a request for their forgiveness.
That last one was the hardest, but we had to impose it. As the shepherd of his flock, he had spoken of God’s ways and requirements. He had offered correction and discipline. Now he must face his own.
That abstract question, “Should we expect higher standards of personal conduct for those called to minister?” became real today. The answer must be yes. As Jesus said, “To whom much is given shall much more be required.” Should the rules of discipline be higher? Again I could only say yes. James 3:1 puts it so clearly: “Let not many of you become teachers, my brethren, knowing that as such we shall incur a stricter judgment.”
When we brought Tom back into our deliberations, I was proud of him. He immediately subjected himself to the discipline we proposed. He was contrite, ready to begin the process of healing.
But I never again want to endure what we went through tonight. Some people must have suspected what the congregational meeting was about, but most had no clue. And the ones not there will have to hear it on Sunday morning. How sad but necessary for everyone’s healing.
A young man led us in a couple of choruses that helped create a better atmosphere for what was to come. Then Tom spoke, by his words the most grievous thing he ever had to do from any pulpit. He read a brief statement he had composed that afternoon and submitted for our approval: “This morning the elders met to investigate an accusation of adultery made against me. I have admitted the sin, repented, and asked God for forgiveness. I now ask for yours as well. The elders have placed me under discipline for at least a year, to which I subject myself freely.” Then he told the congregation the conditions of the discipline.
To those who didn’t know, it was a terrible shock. Sorrow choked the room. Tears flowed. People sat numb. I didn’t want to look in their eyes. Some responded as I had: “It can’t be true—not our pastor, not this man we love and respect!”
Dear God, what will this do to his family, huddled together in the front row? What will it do to the woman’s family?
Humiliation, shame, pain, love, togetherness, protection, care—what a mixture. Nobody can measure what it cost the two—what it cost everyone—as Tom and the woman stood and confessed their sin, as they voiced their repentance and desire for forgiveness. There was the church’s shepherd saying, “I have endeavored to teach you many things. Learn, if you can, from this, too.”
Afterward the people queued to hold and to hug, to weep and to speak a few words to the man, his wife, and family, not forgetting the other family, either. They took their time; you cannot rush a moment like that. Grief and love must be expressed. Then, quietly the people slipped out of the church. The lights were turned out, the doors locked. It was over—for now. But the grief will continue.
Tuesday March 5. Even though it’s too early to get up, I can’t sleep; I wish I could turn off my mind. I might as well try to pen some thoughts.
Surely after all these years of serving in this place, after all the hard work to build this church, Tom should deserve some honor upon leaving. But it has all been stolen away.
Didn’t someone once say, “What price glory?” Now I keep thinking, “What price sin?”
So many questions to be asked, some answerable, some not. I can’t help but think this was not simply the act of an immoral man but rather the result of pressures, stresses, responsibilities—things only those who dwell in the manse can really understand. Perhaps this was not so much blatant sin as the entanglement of a complicated web—a man of principle and of God’s Word somehow ensnared, not by hard chains but soft threads. But oh, how he is brought down!
How do you relieve the pressures? How do you find time for each other in the marriage relationship? How do you keep your love fresh? How can you build trustworthy relationships and support groups around your life and ministry? How do you learn to put aside the false guilt of overambitious parish expectations and live like normal people, taking time off, having energy for yourself and those you love?
So many questions. I wish I had the answers.
Friday, March 8. The elders asked me to pastor Tom’s church for the next few weeks. They hope I can help ease some of the pain. That’s a heavy responsibility. Am I up to it?
I saw their pain on Monday. They hugged Tom—they really loved him—but they wore their grief like chains as they left the church. Will they ever allow themselves to love a pastor again? Or trust him? What if they can’t separate the man from his message? Will the gospel be forever tarnished in some eyes?
How will I pastor a shaken congregation holding me at arm’s length?
Monday, March 11. The manse was empty as my wife and I inspected it today—empty of people but not yet of their belongings. Jane, walking into another wife’s home, picked up the signs of lingering suffering. The trappings of happiness were all there—family photos on the wall, home comforts, a place so cared for, plants in hangers, shrubs carefully tended. Now, for Tom’s family, it’s all gone. Relocation, new relationships to be formed, the shadow touching whatever they do, healing processes to go through—some wounds never heal without scars.
This fall into sin has cost so much. The guilty, the innocent—each one paying the price in an immeasurable way.
Ripples. Waves. They will continue. For how long? Only the Lord knows.
If only it had never happened.
Copyright © 1986 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
