Sins of the Family - Christianity Today

(In the following true account, names and some identifying details have been changed.)

He’s going to smother me. Cari’s face was pressed against Pastor Roland’s chest so tight she thought her mascara would smudge his starched white dress shirt. He seemed so huge–like a jumbo Santa Claus without the beard.

When he released his patented bearhug, he said, “See you Wednesday in my office,” and turned to talk with the family behind her.

Cari left Meadowbrook Church feeling a little better than when she arrived. She always felt drawn to Pastor Roland’s large, warm presence. He wasn’t the senior pastor at Meadowbrook, but Cari thought he should be. He was the pastor everybody saw when they needed pastoral care. He was the grandfather, the statesman who balanced out Jesse, the younger, more intense senior pastor.

On Wednesday Cari emptied a box of Kleenex telling Pastor Roland her life story–her alcoholic father who sexually abused her until her twelfth birthday, her abbreviated first marriage, and her collapsing second. Throughout the story, Pastor Roland softly shook his head.

“I admire your strength,” he said. “With all you’ve been through, I’m amazed you’re not in a psych ward somewhere. God has given you supernatural strength.”

Cari didn’t feel strong but drew strength from his words. He really seemed to understand. Pastor Roland closed with a verse from Revelation 21–“He will wipe every tear from their eyes”–and with a prayer.

“I think we should see each other again,” he said. “Set up another appointment with my secretary on your way out. Are you involved in our support group for the sexually abused?”

“I’m not all that comfortable in group situations,” Cari replied.

“I highly recommend it.” Pastor Roland rose to his towering height and said, “I want to be there for you during this awful time in your life. If I could, I’d take you away from all this.”

I wish you could too, Cari thought. Pastor Roland was such a godly man. Why couldn’t she attract men like Pastor Roland? She was tired of marrying men who put her down.

“IS IT ME?”

Cari soon joined the sexual abuse support group and continued to see Pastor Roland once a week. He made her feel special, like her grandpa used to do when he picked her up and set her way up on his broad shoulders. She felt secure there.

One day Roland ended their session with his usual bearhug and said, “You are beautiful, Cari–a tiny ballerina with red curls. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Cari felt the heat rise to her face and coughed nervously.

“Don’t let your husband make you feel like a worn-out Barbie doll,” he continued. “If I were just a little younger, I’d be very attracted to you.”

Cari mumbled a thank you and goodbye and walked out to the parking lot. The August sun had scorched the inside of her black Toyota, and as she pulled out of the lot, sweat beaded on her upper lip; the vents blew heat all the way home. She felt flattered. His compliments rang in her ears. Certainly he meant nothing inappropriate by them. Not such a godly man. How can I even think such thoughts? Why can’t I accept a compliment without reading something into it?

Â By her next session a week later, Cari still felt a little embarrassed for her soap-opera imagination. During her appointment she couldn’t help staring at Pastor Roland’s full head of silver hair, cropped just above his ears. His mahogany eyes danced as he spoke. It felt so good to hear him say, “Cari, I sense you’ve done all you can for your marriage.” By the time for the bearhug, her doubts had melted. As he was pulling away, she felt his hand lightly brush the side of her breast.

She cringed inwardly and swallowed hard; her mouth felt parched. Surely that was an accident.

“If I were your husband,” Pastor Roland said, “I’d take a good look at what I had. I’d be more interested in jumping your bones than jumping ship.”

Cari tried to smile and fumbled while buttoning her blue summer blazer she had taken off and draped across the back of the loveseat.

“Same time, same place next week?”

“Sure,” she stammered.

Cari felt so dirty inside, she rushed home and soaked in the tub until her daughter, Olivia, knocked on the door. What is wrong with me? she thought. This can’t be happening. Pastor Roland must be twenty years older than I am. No, he couldn’t have meant that. God, what is wrong with me?

The next morning, Cari called Pastor Roland’s secretary to cancel next week’s appointment. She couldn’t stand the thought of hugging him again, at least not now. For the next few weeks, Cari stayed away from church, but she continued to go to her support group. One night she gathered her courage and asked the group leader, Megan, if she could talk for a moment. Cari held nothing back.

“I’m so sorry for bringing you into all this,” Cari said, sobbing. “I’m afraid it’s just me. I’ve never known how to act around men.”

Megan promised to look into it.

ATTENDANCE BARRIER

Two months later, the hardwood trees turned early, their red and orange and yellow hues lighting up the suburban developments. Monday morning after the first Sunday in October, Pastor Jesse was sitting in his study when he heard a door slam. He thought he heard Pastor Roland’s deep basso voice resonate in the hallway.

“Is that you, Roland?” Jesse called out.

“Sure is, boss.” Roland poked his head into Jesse’s office. “Boy, we packed em’ out yesterday.”

“Attendance just keeps climbing,” Jesse said. “Say, shut the door and sit for a minute. I need to talk with you.”

Roland was about the same age as his father; Jesse didn’t feel confident in giving Roland direction. Roland had been minister of visitation and pastoral care at Meadowbrook for eleven years and for two senior pastors before him. But Jesse felt they complemented each other well. Roland was the shepherd; he was the visionary.

“This isn’t a big deal,” Jesse began, “but Megan mentioned that one of the women in her support group doesn’t feel comfortable around you. Her name is Cari.”

“I saw her for marriage counseling a while back,” Roland replied. “What’s her problem?”

I hate this part of my job, Jesse thought. “This doesn’t sound right,” Jesse said, stalling. “She said that you said you wanted ‘to jump her bones’?”

“What?” Roland said. “I don’t even have those words in my vocabulary!”

“That’s what I figured,” Jesse replied, relieved. “Given everything she’s been through with her father, maybe she’s projecting onto you. Who knows?”

Â “I’m just dumbfounded,” Roland said. Jesse was too. He began to regret bringing it up.

“How ’bout if you stop hugging?” Jesse suggested. “Maybe some people find it uncomfortable being touched in any way. Nothing more than an arm around the shoulder, okay?”

Roland paused and looked down. “You know my wife’s not been healthy for years,” he said. “We haven’t had, well, you know … We haven’t had relations for five years. Maybe I’m sending signals I’m not even aware of.”

“That’s probably it,” Jesse said, glad finally to be getting to the root of the problem. “Maybe you should see a counselor.”

“You’re right, boss. It’s probably so subtle I’m not even aware of it.”

After Roland left, Jesse shook his head and almost chuckled. He always made these things harder than they were. He had sat on Megan’s information for almost two months, afraid Roland might explode. Plus, he had a deep commitment to staff colleagues: Always assume the best.

Still, Jesse didn’t know what to make of Roland’s shamed-puppy reaction. Jesse was just glad that was over.

LETTER BOMB

It arrived a year later on a Wednesday morning, when the maples and the elms were shedding their color, and the oaks had turned to a burnt copper. The day was a midwestern gray with rain, and the bite in the wind forecast more cold. Jesse was running late. He had gotten sidetracked watching the NBC “Today Show,” which was covering the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas hearings on Capitol Hill. A little before 9:00 A.M., Jesse greeted his secretary, grabbed the mail out of his routing box, and pulled the door of his office behind him.

He planned to open his mail later, but an envelope with a hand-scrawled address caught his eye. He recognized the name: Christine Sargent. She had attended Meadowbrook in high school and while attending DePaul University.

Jesse tore open the envelope and sank into his chair. The opening line read, “I’m scared to talk about this. I wake up in the middle of the night in a panic thinking about it.” Christine went on to explain that during her rebellious teenage years, Roland and his wife had become, of sorts, her adoptive parents. Many nights she slept at their home when she couldn’t get along with her parents, both alcoholics. She had felt particularly close to Roland, who often drove her to volleyball practice. He was the father that hers never was–until he began making her uncomfortable.

Jesse groaned when he read, “Roland would put his hand just above my knee toward my thigh and say, ‘I really love you. You’re such a dear adoptive daughter.’ As he hugged me, he placed his hand uncomfortably close to my breasts. Once when I thought he was giving me a peck on the cheek, I felt his tongue. He repeatedly told me how physically attracted he was to me.”

Christine closed by saying, “I don’t want to ruin Roland or destroy his marriage, but I’m concerned for the other young women in the church.”

Jesse folded the letter and stuffed it in the envelope and stood up and paced his office like an inmate in a prison yard.

He should have known better. The past year, two other women from the church had privately come to Megan and repeated almost verbatim Cari’s story. Both women, like Cari, had been counseling with Roland. But Jesse had thought it would go away. Since all of the women were divorced or in therapy of some sort, it was hard to take everything at face value.

And now this. Jesse was a stranger to the fear churning in his stomach. Everybody loved Pastor Roland. Everybody felt loved by Pastor Roland. This could only slow Meadowbrook’s momentum. And tomorrow he was supposed to leave for a three-day conference on church growth. The irony of it all.

SINS OF THE PAST

An hour or so later, when his stomach slowed, Jesse phoned Megan and said he’d like her to stop by his office after she got off work. Megan was in her late forties and worked in a crisis intervention unit for DuPage County. She was street smart but warm; most women of the church seemed to love her. Jesse often wished the church could pay her for all she did.

Late that Wednesday, Megan, her jet black hair streaked with gray and pulled back into a ponytail, sat in Jesse’s office reading Christine’s letter.

“Frankly I’m not surprised,” she blurted. “Roland’s M.O. has not changed. I never doubted Cari and the others.”

“Christine was a minor when Roland supposedly did this,” Jesse said. “Do we have to report it?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I can find out.”

“We’d better get more info,” said Jesse, “before unloading this on the board. Why don’t you call a lawyer and maybe a psychologist. We’ve got to see what we’re up against. One more thing: How ’bout calling several of the previous churches that Roland served?”

“I can’t stand the thought of him getting away with this,” Megan said.

Two days later in Minneapolis, Jesse was summoned out of an afternoon seminar for an emergency phone call.

“Roland’s history is not pretty,” Megan began. “I tracked down someone from a church he served twenty years ago. The woman said Roland left the church under suspicion. Someone had allegedly seen him kissing a woman who was not his wife and felt uncomfortable about it. He didn’t stick around for the fireworks, so there’s no paper trail, only hearsay.”

“Did you get hold of a lawyer?” Jesse asked.

“Yes. The lawyer flatly called it ‘sexual harassment,'” Megan said.

“I can just see it now,” Jesse said. “We can sponsor our own Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas hearing.”

Megan continued, “The lawyer said the church is liable for the actions of its pastors.”

Oh great, Jesse thought. The whole church could be dragged into court.

“I’ve got to call Roland immediately,” Jesse said. “We can’t have him counseling until this mess gets cleared up.”

“One more thing,” Megan said. “I got hold of someone from the denomination who specializes in crisis management. He’d like to see us Monday when you return. The sooner the better, he said.”

Jesse hung up the phone and hung his head. He dreaded the next phone call. But he had to make it. He dialed the church office. “Roland,” Jesse said, “This is Jesse. What’s up?”

“Nothing, boss,” Roland replied. “Hey, aren’t you out of town?”

“Yeah, I’m in Minneapolis. Say, this may sound a little weird, but I need you to cancel all your counseling appointments between now and next week.”

“Cancel all my appointments?”

“You’re going to be in town next week, right?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll probably need to meet Tuesday or Wednesday,” Jesse said. Don’t ask why, Jesse thought. Don’t ask why.

“Hope it’s nothing serious,” Roland said.

“Naw, I’ll fill you in then.”

That wasn’t a lie, was it? Jesse thought as he hung up. He returned to the seminar on breaking growth barriers, but he should have just gone to the hotel room and taken a nap.

When he arrived at the Minneapolis airport the next day to fly back to O’Hare, he noticed a flight on the monitor leaving for the Bahamas in twenty minutes. What I wouldn’t give …

CLOSING THE LOOP

During the flight home Saturday evening, Jesse decided to bring into the loop the chairman of the board. Kurt had to know sooner or later. Kurt was a retired airline pilot who had helped found the church. Jesse phoned him with a Cliff Notes version of the situation.

“Pastor Roland?” Kurt said in a low voice. “Why, he’s so godly–never in a million years. I’d hate for you to be wrong about this.”

Jesse assured him that he wasn’t and read several lines of Christine’s letter. But as the conversation wore on, his confidence waned.

“On Monday, Megan and I are meeting with someone from the denomination,” Jesse said. “I’d like you to be there.” He hung up, and the fear came in waves. What if I’m wrong?

On Monday morning Dennis, a stocky man with a graying military haircut, met Jesse and Megan and Kurt for breakfast. Dennis never repeated himself and barked out directions like a drill sergeant: “You’ve got to confront this thing head on. Roland must confess. Roland must repent. And then there must be reconciliation. Only after reconciliation should you consider reinstatement.”

If it’s true, I’m sure Roland will repent, Jesse thought. The women will forgive him.

“How long will this take?” Jesse asked.

“I can’t give you a time line,” Dennis replied. “But the immediate step is to inform the church board. Then you need to meet with Roland.”

Dennis then turned to Megan and said she needed to interview Cari and the other women, and also call Christine.

Â “You’d better make sure these women aren’t lying,” he said. “You’re gonna need signed affidavits that state, ‘On approximately these dates, the following behavior by Roland was offensive to me … ‘”

After Dennis left, the three drank coffee for another hour, discussing when and how to break it to the board. Jesse would call an emergency meeting for tomorrow evening. Then the next day the three of them would confront Roland.

By the time Jesse paid the check, Kurt seemed to believe. “Who would have guessed it?” he repeated as he shook his head.

The rest of the day Jesse spent on the phone with the board. This was one thing he had better not delegate. He kept each conversation brief: “I’m calling a special board meeting tomorrow night. It’s important you be there.”

All day Tuesday, the wind blew hard, and by eight o’clock that evening most of the fall’s colors had carpeted the yards and streets. The mood was pensive as each board member filed into the high school classroom and sat in chairs arranged in a large oval. What a night to have everybody show up, Jesse thought. They’re probably thinking I’m going to resign.

Jesse stood to open in prayer; he prayed with passion. Then he read a brief statement: “We have confirmed evidence of numerous inappropriate activities by our brother, Pastor Roland. Some of the activities involve inappropriate touch and words with women in our fellowship. He’ll be placed on immediate suspension, so we can fully research these claims. I felt you needed to know so that when the congregation starts asking about Roland’s whereabouts, you can answer their questions appropriately.”

The color seemed to drain from the board’s collective face. Then an uncomfortable silence. A muffled sob. And then the assault.

“But Roland is the most godly man I know.”

“This can’t be true!”

“Who’s making these accusations?”

“What evidence do you have?”

“Who are these women, anyway?”

Jesse took a step back. He couldn’t believe that people couldn’t believe it. He parried their thrusts as best he could.

Â “I can’t give you any specifics,” he said, “until we talk with Pastor Roland tomorrow. I promise to keep you informed. Please pray for Pastor Roland and his wife. And our congregation. Please keep this under wraps until we know more.”

Leaving that evening were fewer believers than agnostics. The last to leave were Jesse and a board member who fumed, “Show me the Scripture where you have the right to share this with us not having gone to Roland first. How dare you do this to a brother in Christ!”

Jesse turned to lock the church doors. It was 10:30 P.m., and he felt too tired and unsure to respond. Tomorrow’s confrontation seemed ominous.

PUZZLING NEW PIECE

The next morning Jesse awoke with his head ringing. It was the phone. It was 7:45. He had overslept. He fumbled for the receiver and tried to sound as if he’d been up for hours.

“Pastor, I’ve just got to talk with you,” said a woman’s voice. “I feel terrible about what I’ve caused.”

It was Bonnie Petrik, the board member in charge of care and visitation. She had been at last night’s meeting.

What you’ve caused? Jesse thought. She sounded urgent. “Okay, I’ll see you at 9:00 in my office.” He had wanted to work just a few hours on Sunday’s message before the 2:00 meeting with Roland. He felt frustrated at the distraction.

Jesse arrived at the church a few minutes before 9:00, and Bonnie, her perm a little too blonde, was standing outside his office clutching a white Kleenex and dabbing her darkly lined eyes.

Jesse had barely shut the door behind them when she blurted, “I’ve been seeing Roland for counseling, and we’ve been getting close. I’ve kind of caused this, haven’t I?”

“Caused what?” Jesse said. “Why, no, of course not.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she said. “Roland and I have become emotionally involved. I think I’m in love with him.”

It took a few seconds for her words to soak in, and then his temples began to throb.

“I began seeing Roland for counseling,” Bonnie continued. “He seemed to understand so much about me. I don’t know how you found out.”

“I didn’t,” Jesse said, “until now.”

“But we haven’t slept together.”

Jesse felt brave–“Well, what have you done?”

“Just a little kissing and, ah, hugging.”

“Have you told your husband?”

She hadn’t. But she said she wanted to. She said she would do whatever it took to reconcile with him. Finally, she left quietly, her bony shoulders in a repentant stoop, like a little girl dreading her father’s return.

Jesse tried to fit this new piece into the puzzle–Cari and two other women claimed sexual harassment, Christine claimed Roland did the same to her when she was a minor, and now this: an affair of sorts with Bonnie. What else has he done?

When Roland lumbered into the office a few minutes before 2:00 p.m. Jesse thought Roland looked older. But he was dressed as sharply as always, with his gold tie clip accenting the earth tones in his tweed sports coat. His forehead furrowed when Megan and Kurt entered the room. Jesse hadn’t told him they would be there.

“Is there something wrong, boss?”

“Do you remember about a year and a half ago,” Jesse said, “when we talked about not hugging people because Cari said she felt uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“At that point I said, ‘Stop the hugging’ and suggested counseling.”

“I tried calling a counselor,” Roland said, “but he never returned my calls.”

“But we have a more serious problem here,” Jesse said.

Roland deadpanned. Then out from under his bushy white eyebrows, his eyes began to dart from Jesse to Megan to Kurt.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he stammered. “I should have come talk to you about Bonnie. I’m willing to resign right now.”

“Bonnie told me just this morning,” Jesse said. “Whatever you have going with her is serious, but she’s really not the main issue here. We were planning to talk with you before she said anything. I don’t know how to break this to you … Last week I received a letter from Christine Sargent. She said you came on to her during the time you and your wife took her under your wing.”

Roland crossed his legs, but his face remained frozen.

“Here’s a copy of Christine’s letter,” Jesse continued, “and here are signed letters from Cari and two other women who also felt uncomfortable around you. Their testimonies all sound the same.”

It seemed as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

“We’re going to need to talk about how you can get help,” Jesse concluded, and waited.

“I must be giving off some messages,” Roland finally said. “There must be some evil inside of me. I dunno. I want to get to the root of it.”

At least he recognizes the problem, Jesse thought. He wants to deal with this.

“Here are the names of three psychologists,” Jesse said. “We’d like you to pick one and set up an appointment immediately. We’re going to keep meeting with the board to find out what this means for your employment here at the church. If you’d like, we can come over this afternoon and talk with your wife.”

“No, no,” Roland said. “That would be too hard on her. You know she’s not been well lately. I’ll tell her myself.”

Suddenly it ended. Jesse closed in prayer, and Roland left, looking much smaller. Jesse, Kurt, and Megan were relieved that Roland seemed genuinely broken. Jesse asked Kurt to call another board meeting and recommend that Roland confess his emotional affair before the entire church.

That night Jesse went to bed early. He told his wife he had the same feeling he felt after running the mile in a high school track meet. But he thought the day was productive. At least now with Bonnie in the picture, the church had something solid to go on. No one could dispute her confession.

TRUE LIES

Cari had decided not to leave Meadowbrook Church after she stopped seeing Pastor Roland for counseling, mostly because of Megan and the other women in her support group. Cari couldn’t imagine having gone through her second divorce without them.

But Sundays were always a little awkward. Cari avoided Pastor Roland by arriving late and leaving early. Cari also tried to dodge Pastor Jesse. Not once had he called her, though Cari knew Megan had told him.

A year had passed since the incident the day Megan called. Megan wanted her to write down exactly what Pastor Roland had said to her. Megan called it an “affidavit” and said the church might need it if the matter went to court.

“More has come out,” Megan explained. “You’re not the only woman accusing him of sexual harassment.”

Cari put it off for a couple of days. All the ghosts reappeared: the guilt and doubt and fear. Maybe she had just read into it. In some ways it all seemed so distant. But in other ways it felt so close. One bright Indian summer day she finally sat down at her kitchen table and wrote out what Pastor Roland had said and done to her. She teared up at her final sentence: “I came to Pastor Roland needing support, but I left feeling confused, hurt, and trapped.”

She still felt trapped. Part of her wanted to forget the whole thing and just get on with her life; another part wanted justice.

Cari soon learned that Bonnie had confessed to an emotional affair with Roland and that he would be confessing to the entire church on Sunday evening. Megan thought Cari should be there. Megan said the board would be suspending him in part because of her claims.

On Sunday evening Cari entered the Meadowbrook sanctuary and sat near the back. She felt self-conscious. Do people know what happened to me? The sanctuary was about half full when Pastor Jesse opened in prayer. “I’d like to have Pastor Roland come forward,” he said, “and share with us what is going on in his life.”

Pastor Roland had been sitting alone up front. Cari wondered where his wife was. His face looked like an old dress shirt that had lost its starch; his khaki-colored trousers and open-collared green polo shirt looked slightly wrinkled.

He rose slowly and approached the lectern. “I am here to confess,” he said softly, “that I’ve crossed an emotional boundary with a woman who is not my wife. I even thought I loved her, but now I realize I was caught up in the moment. I want to confess that to you. I’ve emotion ally sinned. I’ve asked God for forgiveness. I also want to ask for your forgiveness. I’m going to take some time away from ministry to get some counseling. My heart feels heavy; it’s time I took a look at it. It’s only fair to the church.”

Roland stopped and looked over at Jesse. Jesse walked over beside him and put his arm on his shoulder.

“Roland, thank you for your repentance,” Jesse said. “We’re going to be praying for you and for healing in your marriage. Let’s bow in prayer.”

When Jesse finished, Roland ducked out through a side door. Jesse proceeded to explain that the board had put Roland on a six-month suspension and would reevaluate his status in May. Cari couldn’t believe what she wasn’t hearing. Not once did Jesse mention the other charges against Roland.

“Can I answer any questions you might have?” Jesse said.

“What actually happened?” someone asked.

“I can say only that Roland has broken his marriage vows,” Jesse replied, “because of an emotional entanglement with another woman.”

“I can’t believe that,” said a woman near the front. “Pastor Roland is such a godly man.”

“And who can cast a stone?” said someone farther back. “It’s not as if he had intercourse with her, right? I admire him for admitting his lust. Doesn’t everybody fall in love with somebody? He didn’t go to bed with anybody, right?”

“No, but what he did was, in fact, sin,” Jesse countered.

“Why does he have to lose his job over that?”

Cari didn’t wait to hear more. She slipped out the back and into the darkness. She had felt invisible. She felt like a complete stranger at a birthday party. Wasn’t what Roland did to her serious enough to confess? A slow anger replaced the fear.

SLOW TRAIN COMING

The next morning Jesse stood so long in the shower, lost in thought, that the skin on his fingers wrinkled and the water turned cold. The noise inside his head was growing louder. Last night Roland had come off looking like the vulnerable Christian leader being victimized for admitting weakness.

As Jesse greeted his secretary, she handed him several phone messages. He called Megan first.

“Cari is steamed,” Megan blurted, “and I can’t blame her. How do you think Cari felt?”

“I saw her leave,” he replied. “You’re right. Who could blame her? But what was I to do?”

“You could have told the congregation the whole story,” she said.

“With what evidence?” Jesse snapped. “It’s Cari’s word against his.”

As soon as he said it, Jesse regretted it. “I’m sorry,” Jesse said. “I just thought last evening would be something of a turning point. It irks me that Roland made it sound as if he had voluntarily confessed. That’s far from the truth.”

“Well, you’re probably right about the evidence,” Megan admitted. “I just talked with Christine, and she refuses to sign an affidavit. She just doesn’t want to get any further involved.”

Everything is unraveling, Jesse thought as he hung up. It had been only a month since one letter had thrown his ministry into reverse. He had hoped the whole affair would blow over by the holidays.

The end of November and December passed like a slow-moving freight train. When Jesse explained to the board the sexual harassment charges that Cari and others had made in their affidavits, he thought it would bring the group to a clear resolution. But the board decided to interview the women. They wanted more information, and they got it: Each woman tore into the board member who interviewed her. Each felt discounted that Roland had confessed only his infatuation with Bonnie.

The second Sunday of Advent Jesse ran into Cari in the church basement after the service and gently asked how things were going.

“Why didn’t Roland confess what he did to us?” Cari snapped. “Why is nobody taking us seriously? I thought the church was supposed to be a family.”

“Hold on, we’re not through yet,” Jesse backpedaled. “We just need to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” Cari asked. “Do you think I’m lying?”

Jesse assured her he didn’t but left feeling ambushed. We’ll never be able to satisfy the victims, he realized.

The following week, the situation turned in a way he had never expected. One afternoon Jesse phoned Roland to see how he was doing. “If you continue to bring up Cari’s complaints,” Roland vowed, “I will take matters to court.”

Jesse panicked and called Roland’s therapist. He felt desperate to find some shred of evidence that Roland was lying. “This is strictly confidential,” the therapist said, “and I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but Roland has really shut down. Something very serious is going on, but I’m not sure what.”

Jesse and the board had counted on Roland’s cooperation. Now that was gone. Bonnie’s confession was the only solid evidence they had. Jesse was in free fall.

Many of the busy days leading up to Christmas passed without any conversations about the situation, but Jesse couldn’t eject it from his mind. One day, anxious to feel back in control, he called Megan to see how Cari and the other two women were doing.

Megan unloaded on him. “Why are you protecting Roland?”

“We’ve got to make sure what Cari is saying is true,” Jesse replied, surprised at her comment. “We need Roland’s confession.”

“You’re giving him too much power in this mess.”

Jesse didn’t argue. He was paralyzed by the thought: Even Megan seems to be turning on me. I’ve got no supporters and dozens of critics.

But he had never felt the need for God more, and there was a strange sweetness in that. He decided the present he would give himself this Christmas would be not answering his critics. His New Year’s resolution was that next year would bring resolution.

VICTIM NO MORE

In arctic January Cari and the other two women accusing Roland of sexual harassment asked Megan for a favor: They wanted to confront him.

“We’re tired of being pushed to the back of the line,” Cari said. “We want to confront him for what he’s done.”

A week later Megan phoned, saying Roland had flatly refused. Cari figured as much. What Roland wants, Roland gets, she thought.

But the next morning Megan told her that Roland had a change of heart. “But he agreed only to talk with you, not the other women.”

“Will you go with me?” Cari asked. “I won’t go unless you go.”

“His counselor will be in the room,” Megan hedged.

“But you make me feel strong,” Cari replied. “Please go.”

Three days later, on a Thursday late afternoon, Megan and Cari drove to the renovated downtown area of Bolingbrook. The counselor’s office was on the third floor, and during the short elevator ride, Cari squeezed Megan’s arm. I’ve got to be strong, Cari thought.

When they entered the room, Roland was already seated behind a small oval-shaped table. He nodded when the counselor introduced himself to Megan and Cari and said, “You already know Roland.”

Megan and Cari sat in a burgundy cloth couch opposite of Roland. The counselor, who looked Pastor Roland’s age, seated himself in a chair to Cari’s right. Pastor Roland had on the same warm chestnut suit he wore the first time she saw him for counseling.

The counselor wasted no time. “We all know why we’re here,” he said. He glanced at Cari: “Would you like to talk to Roland about what happened?”

“I’m very angry,” Cari said softly. She couldn’t look at him and clasped her hands.

“Would you like to be more specific why you’re angry?” the counselor asked.

“I trusted you, Pastor Roland,” Cari said. “I told you everything.” Her faint voice strengthened, and her dark eyes rose to meet Pastor Roland’s. She unclasped her hands.

“Would you like to stand up?” the counselor asked.

Cari jumped up as if the couch were hot and pointed her finger. “Do you know what it was like for me? Do you know how disgusting I felt after I had told you every last detail of my sexual abuse as a child?”

“Go ahead, Cari,” prodded the counselor. “Get it all out.”

“And then you betrayed me,” Cari said. “You, you made me feel dirty and ugly. Your dirty hugs. You intentionally touched my breast. I know you did. Damn you. You’re no pastor. All along I thought it was all my fault. I thought when you said you wanted to protect me that you wanted to help me. But you just wanted to take from me. You set me up.”

Roland looked right through her. He shook his head.

“Do you remember doing this?” the counselor asked him.

“I did not do this,” Roland said. “I don’t know why she is saying this.”

“Roland, talk about it,” the counselor urged. “Get it out.”

“I don’t know why she is saying this,” Roland repeated, and it was clear the conversation was over.

As the counselor ushered Megan and Cari out to the hallway, he remarked, “If this man doesn’t break through his denial, he could be dangerous.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Megan told Cari on the way home. Cari felt cleansed.

It felt so good to scream at Roland, even though he denied everything. She had let him have it. And the counselor seemed to believe her too. She sobered up when she thought, I wonder if my church family ever will.

FINAL FURY

Jesse had dreaded the 50 percent turnover in the board in January. But Kurt picked up the slack and met with each newcomer and briefed him on the situation. During the March meeting, Kurt read a letter from Roland and his wife. “We cannot handle any more of this,” the letter stated. “We are physically and emotionally spent. Why are you not satisfied with counseling? Why are you listening to those needy women who are just trying to frame us?”

Kurt pulled out another letter from Roland’s counselor stating that Roland was progressing in his psychotherapy and was faithfully attending 12-step meetings. “I believe Roland has made some progress understanding his sexualizing relationships with women,” the counselor wrote.

That night the board promised to make some final decisions about Roland at the April meeting. They had to. The church seethed with rumors. Some members had stopped tithing and were giving their money to Roland and his wife, since the church had cut his salary in half during the suspension. Jesse was besieged with calls: Just who were these other women? Would Roland be reinstated?

The last week in April, the board met on a Tuesday evening and debated late into the evening. Nothing had changed, really: Cari and the other two women were sticking by their affidavits. Roland denied everything. “If this matter is not resolved honestly,” he threatened in a letter, “I may be forced to pursue legal channels.”

Around midnight Jonathan, the one lawyer on the church board, said what everyone was thinking. “I move we dismiss him on the basis of violating his marriage vows. His relationship with Bonnie went against 1 Timothy 3 and the qualifications of an elder. In the termination letter, we won’t even bring up the sexual harassment charges.”

The motion passed unanimously. Jesse and Kurt would meet with Roland tomorrow to give him the news. Jesse hoped Cari and the other women would be satisfied, but he knew they wanted justice. Yet in one sense, they were getting it: Roland was fired.

At 9:00 a.m. the next morning, Kurt and Jesse met with Roland in Jesse’s office. It was the first time Jesse had ever seen Roland unshaven. He looked like a grizzly who had just lost her cubs.

There was no polite talk. As soon as Roland dropped into a chair, Jesse read the termination letter: “Because you have violated your marriage vows in your relationship with Bonnie Petrik, we have formally released you from your position as pastor of visitation and pastoral care. We at Meadowbrook will continue to pray for you and hope that you will find healing in your marriage and soul.”

“So I guess that’s it, isn’t it,” Roland growled. “You should know that any employer who gives a bad reference can be sued.”

Jesse’s blood pressure doubled, but he didn’t reply. Roland left. And this time there was no bearhug.

JURY HANGING

It was May Day when Megan stopped by to break the news to Cari. “They fired him,” she said, “but not on the basis of your accusations. The board feared a lawsuit.”

Cari expected as much. Roland simply had too much power. The Meadowbrook church family was making her feel like her own family did growing up: powerless and discounted.

Megan also told her there would be another congregational meeting on Sunday evening. At first Cari decided not to go. Why put myself through it again? she thought. She intended to leave the church. But she decided to give the church one more chance.

On Sunday, Cari and Megan arrived shortly before 7:30 and sat near the back. For the first twenty minutes, Jesse spoke on the principles of church discipline and qualifications for leadership found in Matthew 18 and 1 Timothy 3. He closed by saying, “As many of you know, six months ago our brother Roland confessed to you his emotional involvement with another woman. That alone is reason enough to disqualify him as a pastor. I want to clarify some confusion: Some of you thought he came to the church board on his own and confessed his sin. He did not. Three of us confronted him, and then he confessed. He confessed because he was confronted.

“But I also want to clear up some other confusion: the reasons for Roland’s suspension were more complicated than just his involvement with Bonnie. Several women from the church also alleged he used sexualizing words and touch while counseling them.

“So on Tuesday evening, after six months of agonizing debate, the Meadowbrook Church board decided based on Scripture to terminate Pastor Roland’s relationship with our church.

“God is not through with Pastor Roland. Or with the women who have been hurt by him. God is at work here. Let’s go in peace and put this chapter behind us.”

Jesse closed in prayer. As soon as he said “Amen,” a woman in the front stood up. “Not so fast, Pastor. How come we haven’t given more support to Roland’s wife? How do we know these aren’t a bunch of false allegations? Who are these women, anyway?”

The congregation held its breath. And then everyone began whispering.

“I’m sorry, we can’t answer any questions now,” Jesse said. “I already said you’re dismissed. Please leave the auditorium.”

A man just two pews in front of Cari jumped up. “Yeah, well I think these women are crazy.”

Cari hunched down in the pew, and Megan put an arm around her. Just then Kurt stood. He almost had to shout to be heard: “If any of you want to talk further about this, the entire board will be in the high school classroom following the meeting.”

Almost immediately the congregation stopped buzzing, and many filed out of the sanctuary and into the parking lot. Several gathered in various pockets of the sanctuary and held hands or prayed or wept. A small number headed for the high school room.

Should I go? Cari thought. On the one hand, she wanted Roland’s protectors to see her face. She wanted them to know who Roland had hurt. But on the other, she wanted to walk out and never look back.

Megan warned, “Don’t do it, Cari. You’ll only get hurt,” but in a moment of indignation Cari stormed out of the sanctuary and toward the high school classroom.

Thirty anxious people had jammed into a room for twenty. The first few minutes, people were clamoring and jostling for chairs. Finally, Kurt took the floor. Beside him sat only five other board members in folding chairs.

Quickly a few in the room grew restless and began peppering Kurt with questions: “Why weren’t these allegations made public until now?” “Has Roland admitted to these allegations?” “If he denied that he did anything, why wasn’t that good enough?” “How could you doubt such a godly man?” “Who are these women?”

This was her chance. Cari sprang to her feet. “Hold on a minute. I’m one of those women Roland harassed. You don’t know what he did to me.”

The room quieted.

“I don’t mean to be cruel,” said a young mother, “but didn’t you just get divorced? And weren’t you divorced before? We’re talking about a godly pastor here.”

Cari was taken aback. She slowly sank into her seat.

“You told me yourself that you’re in a support group for the sexually abused,” stated another woman. “How would you know if someone loved or cared for you? You’ve destroyed a godly man. His blood is on your hands.”

Cari felt as if she had just been hung out on a clothesline, her shameful past fluttering in the breeze like an embarassing piece of laundry she didn’t want the neighbors to see. Minutes later she left the room and left the church for good.

Seven months later, between Christmas and New Year’s, Jesse began to reflect on the past year. One morning after a wet snowfall he arose early and bundled up and walked until his toes burned with cold.

Thank God the church didn’t split, he thought. Just a year ago he was sure it would. But it hadn’t. Only a dozen or so people left in protest over Roland’s firing. Funny how things eventually work themselves out, Jesse thought.

But then Cari and the other women Roland had victimized came to mind. He bent down and packed a snowball and wound up and hurled it into the street. He felt older and wiser, but not surer.

*********************

Dave Goetz is associate editor of Leadership.