When Domestic Violence Knocks - Christianity Today

Do you ever get a bad feeling when the phone rings? As a domestic violence victim advocate for the City of Miami Beach Police Department, I got that feeling often.

"Lou, there's a lady down here who needs to see you."

It had become hauntingly easy for me to spot an abused woman in our busy department lobby. As I introduced myself to this visitor, she looked up at me sheepishly, and the bruises on her face spoke volumes.

Jackie (not her real name) came to our department seeking help with a domestic conflict. Her story was typical. She and her husband had gotten into a verbal altercation that escalated to physical violence. She'd called 911. Responding officers determined that he was the "primary aggressor," having struck Jackie with his fist and leaving visible bruises. Having probable cause, our officers arrested him for misdemeanor battery, and he was taken into custody immediately to await a hearing.

Before I could begin my usual inquiries, Jackie cut in. "Mr. Reed, is there any way that we can stop this process and let my husband out of jail?"

I was somewhat taken aback, although this kind of "victim's remorse" is common. "Why do you ask, Jackie?"

"You see, he's an elder in our church," she said nervously. "If this ever got out, he could lose his position. I'm really afraid that he would blame me, and that would just make matters worse. I'd rather just forget the whole thing."

"Has he ever physically struck you before?" I asked.

"Yes sir, many times. But this is the first time that I've called the police. I was angry and scared. But I wouldn't have done it if I'd known he would end up in jail."

"Jackie, have you ever talked to your pastor about this situation?" Her eyes and mouth stretched wide open in disbelief. "I could never do that. My husband would kill me!"

Her response cut me—especially because, though Jackie didn't know it, I wasn't just a professional victim advocate for the City of Miami Beach. I was also a pastor. So I started to think about my own church. Did I have a "Jackie" in my congregation? What would I say to her if she did muster up the courage to come to me with her domestic situation?

I started looking for materials within my denomination that could help me. I was surprised by how much there was. In fact, there are many ministries and organizations throughout the country that are already active in victim advocacy (see sidebar).

But as important as this kind of education is, it will still leave any pastor with questions about handling a specific domestic situation. Plus, it's a learning process that takes years. And if a victim walks into your office tomorrow, she can't wait that long. How will you interact with her? Will you confront the abuser? When and how do you get the authorities involved? Here, then, are some essential ground rules for pastoring in the wake of domestic violence.

What to listen for

Although as a victim advocate I was the professional, I realized that victims understood domestic violence in a way that, without personally experiencing it, I never could. So I tried to listen as if they were the experts. In addition to first-hand information about the domestic incident, victims know the history of the relationship. As I asked questions and listened to victims, I actively pinpointed areas where I needed to gain more wisdom and knowledge.

Just by listening, I noticed patterns in the ways victims react and deal with their abusive situations. For instance, most abused women exhibit obvious signs of having been long intimidated by the one who eventually abused them.

Listening not only provided an essential education for me, it also helped the victim put words to the ordeal she'd endured for so long.

Giving power to the victim

After talking with Jackie, I eventually asked for permission to speak with her pastor.

"What would you say to him?" she asked, bristling with fear. "Are you going to try to get the case dropped?"

"Actually, that's in your hands," I said.

A key strategy in dealing with abuse victims is empowerment. Most have been rendered powerless in their domestic relationship, at least they assume they're powerless, and for me to tell a victim what to do in her situation causes "re-victimization."

As a pastor, of course, I often feel like I'm expected to be the Answer Man, and it was hard for me not to make the decisions for Jackie. But I've learned over time that my best contribution is to give concrete information and offer the right options at the right stage of a victim's situation. Yes, there is a place for advice in that process, but the line between giving advice and telling the victim what to do is important. When the victim begins to make the decisions, the process of empowerment begins.

Find the victim advocates

Jackie had come for help to a victim advocate (me) before going to her pastor. I would encourage any pastor to get familiar with your local victim advocates, who work in either the police department or the state or district attorney's offices. These civilian staff are professionally trained to give information and advice on any domestic situation. They can help you understand the intricacies of navigating these incidents, and you will want to refer victims to these advocates when they are ready to notify the authorities.

When to dial 911

Jackie eventually agreed to see her pastor if I would go along, and I was able to help him understand what was happening. Once our session was finished, he took me aside and asked, "What should I have done if Jackie had called me before she contacted the police department about this incident?"

It can be helpful to think of the assistance given to abuse victims as a continuum. On that continuum, the police are the "first responders." They know the law, and they have the authority to act quickly and decisively.

If you ever have first-hand knowledge of domestic abuse (if you've actually witnessed it), calling 911 yourself to report it is a no-brainer. You want to protect the victim as soon as possible. But if the victim is the only witness to the crime, the question of when to call the police gets trickier.

All too often, something like this happens: a neighbor overhears a domestic disturbance and calls 911; the police show up; the victim denies that anything happened and tells the police to leave. Since there are no other first-hand witnesses, the authorities are helpless. So if the victim who comes to you does not want the police to be notified, and you have no other witness to rely on, then—as irresponsible as it sounds—you should not call the police.

Not only will the police be stymied without the victim's cooperation, but you risk two things. You could raise the ire of the abuser and put the victim in even greater danger than before. Plus, you will be overriding the victim's choice, which re-victimizes rather than empowers her.

One exception is if the victim shows physical signs of abuse. In that case, then even if you can't count on the victim's testimony, you should notify the police. That is evidence enough for the authorities to be able to do something. And that is worth overriding the victim's choice, at least for that moment. Even then, though, before I make the call, I will try to ask the victim's permission, explain the gravity of the situation, and ask her not to recant when the authorities come.

More often the abuse is emotional, backed by threats of physical harm. And you can't prove that's happening without the help of the victim. Believe me, if as a pastor I always followed my desire to call 911 for a victim, I would do so all the time. But often the best thing you can do is give the victim the phone number of a victim advocate and encourage her to make the call.

Recommend safe houses

Of all the options you can recommend to an abused woman, a women's shelter is probably the best one. These shelters, or safe houses, protect women who are in danger of being repeatedly abused.

Outside of the safe house, abuse victims must rely on the criminal justice system to protect them from the batterer. Unfortunately, these resources—for instance, a restraining order or police intervention—do not guarantee a high degree of safety. But a safe house does.

They can provide room and board accommodations, 24-hour security, victim advocates, employment and career counselors, day care facilities for preschoolers, transportation, healthcare professionals, and more.

One risk in recommending the safe house option is (again) the possibility of re-victimization. It may seem absurd to someone on the outside, but many abused women are more afraid of leaving a familiar environment than they are of being hurt again. Since a safe house will only take willing lodgers anyway, be sure that you're only recommending and not trying to make the decision for the victim to enter a safe house.

The issue of "submission"

Nine out of ten cases of reported domestic violence are perpetrated by the man. A pastor cannot ignore how this runs up against the doctrine of "submission in marriage," which almost inevitably comes up in certain church situations. It needs to be handled with care.

Putting the theological debate aside, consider the position of an abuse victim who believes it is her duty to submit to her husband. Maybe she can't even articulate the obligation in so many theological terms, but she feels it. Don't let it be the elephant in the room. As her pastor, help her face that sense of duty and loyalty and sacrificial love and understand it in light of an abusive husband.

At the same time, consider how your church has talked about submission. My church holds a conservative understanding of this doctrine, and I realized that we often presented it in a way that put more of the burden on the wife than the husband. Such an approach can slant both the victim's and abuser's perspectives on their relationship.

Dodging the gender gap

If nine out of ten victims of domestic violence are women, and you are a male pastor, then what does that mean for how you should counsel and respond?

In my own pastoral ministry, I had already learned the value of including my wife as a co-counselor in working with couples or women in other types of situations.

Consequently, it was natural for me to team up with my wife in dealing with female abuse victims. For other male pastors, it would be wise to enlist the assistance of another mature woman during counseling. Just the presence of another woman in the room brings an immeasurable degree of comfort to the victim.

At the same time, if you are a man, don't discount your ability to counsel in these situations. The field of professional victim advocates is heavily dominated by women, which is understandable. (As a tall, African-American man, I know what it means to stand out at victim advocate conferences!) But I believe that once a better gender balance is struck in this field—and greater pastoral involvement will help—then we will begin to do a better job of handling both parties in a domestic incident: victim and perpetrator.

Approaching the abuser

And that brings me to the other side of the coin. As a pastor, what do you do with the perpetrator? In my jurisdiction, a perpetrator of misdemeanor battery is given two options after he has been arrested and charged (assuming he doesn't call in a public defender to take the case to trial). He can (1) serve a prison sentence or (2) complete a court-ordered anger management course. As you might expect, everyone picks anger management.

Still, an abuser who is taken into custody will be jailed until he posts bail or his hearing comes up, which must happen within 15 days in my jurisdiction. So whether it's one night or two weeks, the perpetrator often gets at least a taste of incarceration. And as strange as it may sound, that taste can be just what he needs.

Since domestic violence is often fueled by power and control issues in men, it's logical that the perpetrator would be most vulnerable in a situation that he can't control. A jail cell is certainly that kind of place. So as a pastor I've found that this period of incarceration opens up the abuser and can be a very strategic time to approach him. The jail officials I worked with understood this, too, and they would welcome my visits. Take advantage of this sudden vulnerability to step in, make contact, and start counseling the abuser.

I always start by just trying to assess the abuser's mindset. Research suggests that abusers are pathological blame-shifters, so I look for that going in. But I'll ask him to tell me about himself. Were Mom and Dad both in the home? Who was more dominant? Was there violence or abuse between them? (Most batterers saw one of their parents abuse the other.) If there was abuse, which parent did you identify with? All of my questions for the abuser are leading, as gently as possible, to this one: what do you think about what you did? It's amazing how honest a batterer will be with you, especially (for you male pastors) man-to-man.

Reinforcing the rehab

Once the anger management course starts, I ask the abuser to agree to meet with me after each session. My hope here is to fill in the gaps of the course. I'll ask him questions to see if he's really processing what they're teaching. Is this course wasting your time? Are you buying this? Often an abuser just sits in class and nods. He doesn't get a chance to verbalize his responses to what he is or isn't learning, so I push him to do that. If he has objections, I can address them.

Since abusers are usually blame-shifters, you'll often hear them find ways to blame their spouses. Others will say they were drunk but that they don't have a real anger problem. Consequently, they don't see the need for this anger management course. That's when you ask something like, "Have you ever lost your temper while sober?" If he's honest, he'll admit he has. Push him to consider how badly he could lose his temper again.

Or, especially if the abuser is a church attender, I will pull in spiritual corollaries to the secular principles being taught in the course. If the abuser is being told that he has to admit his wrongdoing to move forward, I point him to 1 John 1:9: "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."

When the anger management course nears its end (often within 12 weeks), I try to set up an extended commitment from the abuser to meet with me. Twelve weeks is rarely enough time for someone to work through the issues that led him to batter a spouse. Plus, as long as we're meeting together in a format that I'm controlling, the abuser remains more vulnerable. I'll ask him to meet with me for another three months, and I'll set some goals for us to evaluate by the end of that time.

Goals for an abuser

First, if we haven't already, we will try to pinpoint what triggers his anger, and once we have, we will work on strategies for diffusing it. Also, we will talk about ways he can make his wife feel safer and more loved. How can he be more affectionate or considerate?

Second, we will discuss personal goals he has, perhaps job-related or advancing his career.

Third, I work toward his willingness to bring in a third party and, eventually, the wife herself into this process. This makes it more normal for the abuser to talk about his situation and lowers the intensity of the anger and embarrassment.

Obviously, cases of domestic violence are complicated. It may take years to reach a point of resolution. Sometimes it never comes. As a pastor trying to help, you may wonder if you actually can. It is encouraging then to remember that, among the many victim advocates out there, we have one Advocate whom we can trust above all to bring justice, repentance, and healing into these homes.

As humble instruments of that Advocate, we keep learning and hoping.

Lou Reed has 25 years of pastoral experience, most recently at West Side Baptist Church in Hollywood, Florida. He is also a former supervisor for the City of Miami Beach Police Department's domestic violence unit and an adjunct professor at Trinity International University in Davie, Florida.