I know that Ghandi (?) quote is “Be the change you want to see in the world.” But sometimes I think you need to force things to change.
I ran across the following personal account on a blog today via someone’s repost of it on Facebook. You can find the original here (it’s the 3rd comment, not the actual post, though the blog post will help some of you understand the bigger context).
There are some segments of Christianity that have a horrible history of ignoring, covering up, and tolerating sexual abuse among ministers and clergy. My church background lies within one of those segments, the independent Fundamentalist movement, and my alma mater Bob Jones University has an army of closet skeletons it needs to address.
I’m posting this girl’s story here for these reasons:
1. I want people I know to realize they already know folks who were sexually abused. And you will come into contact with someone who is in a dangerous situation right that moment, though you may have no idea. Are you approachable?
2. I want people to realize that the only appropriate response to an allegation of abuse is calling the authorities.
3. I want all of us to stop blaming victims for what happens to them. No child is responsible for being abused; no woman “provoked” her rapist.
4. I want churches and schools to put in place a written policy of how they will safeguard against abuse by staff members.
5. I want BJU’s administration to hear Kim’s story and correct the structural problems that allow a story like this to be something that doesn’t surprise me. :/
6. I want the supporting churches and alumni of BJU to insist that the University repudiate the kind of “counseling” and student life policies reflected below. Change will come when the constituency demands it.
Kim’s Story
*Inserted hyperlinks are mine, for explanation to those outside the BJU/IFB community
I was raised IFB – my family lived and breathed it. My mother graduated from Bob Jones University All of my aunts and uncles attended Bob Jones University. My grand-father is a well-known IFB pastor who is also a graduate of Bob Jones University. I was never given a choice. From elementary school, I KNEW I would attend BJU, or be literally kicked out of the family on my ear. My father was accused of sexually molesting little girls while in my grand-father’s church in Pennsylvania. We were packed up and moved in the middle of the night to Tennessee. My grand-father had made the connection to this other church. The pastor friend of my grand-father was another Bob Jones University ‘preacher-boy’ graduate. My grand-father didn’t believe my father was molesting the little girls. Unfortunately my father didn’t stop. My father molested me and my little sister too.
The first time I tried to tell, my mother first began to sob. Then she called my grand-father. He told my mother not to go to the police, (because those evil police and social workers will come out and investigate our home), but to call our pastor in Tennessee. My grand-father told my mother our pastor “would handle it.” My mother did call the pastor. My mother took me over to the church to talk to the preacher.
When I started to try to tell my pastor and his wife, that my father had been molesting me since I was 3 or 4, he STOPPED me! The pastor friend of my grand-father said, “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it! If you tell me, then I am required to call the police and report this. You don’t want your daddy going to prison over a misunderstanding, do you?”
I was 14. I loved my dad. I was confused. I told the pastor that I didn’t want my dad to go to jail, but I didn’t want him touching me anymore. The pastor friend of my grand-father then told both myself and my mother he had spoken with my grand-father. My grand-father was flying down. The two of them would speak with my dad. I was promised, “You need to trust us, God won’t let your daddy touch you again.”
Grandpop did fly in, I was in the Christian School associated with the church. When my grandfather showed up, he took me out of school to go to lunch. He asked what my father had done. I told my grandfather. My grandfather told me that he thought I had misunderstood my dad’s “loving on his daughter” with “evil things.” Nevertheless, my grandfather promised to speak with my father along with my pastor.
As you all probably know, it didn’t stop my father from sexually abusing me. A few months later, I tried to tell my mother once again. She called my grand-father. He got on the phone with me. My grand-father told me to stop spreading malicious lies because I didn’t like my father disciplining me. I tried to tell both my mother and my grand-father that it had nothing to do with discipline. They wouldn’t listen. That same night, my father came back into my room as usual.
That night, I tried to run away. I took my parents van, along with my stained nightgown. I decided if I could get to Pennsylvania, I would be able to SHOW my grandfather the evidence, Then would he would have no other choice but to believe me. Then my grand-father would tell my mother to believe me too. (To this day, she always calls her father, asking advice for just about everything. She functions on the level of a junior high school student in this area, imo). I drove my parents van from Tennessee to Pennsylvania. I used money I had saved from babysitting our preachers kids for gas. I packed a small cooler with sandwiches and drinks like I had seen my mother do when we all made the drive to PA several times a year. I drove straight through to PA. To this day, I don’t know how I made it safely, since I wasn’t old enough to have a drivers license. I kept thinking my grand-father will help me once he see’s the evidence. He will!
Once I (finally) drove into my grand-parents driveway in PA, I breathed a sigh of relief. My grand-parents came to their front door, but didn’t come out. I thought it was strange, but I was soooo very happy that I ran, hugged my grand-parents and told them I had evidence my dad was doing those things to me. My grand-father took me into the house. My grand-mother made me sit on the couch while they called my parents. To my horror, my grand-parents told my father that I said I had evidence. My grand-father said, “I’ll take care of it.” In my naivete I still thought he meant he would finally believe me. I thought I would be allowed to stay with my grandparents. I would be safe at last! They HAD to believe me, right?
We didn’t discuss anything that night. My grand-mother kept babbling on about how hungry and tired I must be. My grand-father asked a few questions. He would then to into his home study to make a phone call and return. This went on for a few hours. My grand-mother made up the guest room for me. I slept very soundly because I knew my dad wasn’t coming in my room to molest me, while my grand-parents slept. I was safe. I remember praying. I remember thanking Jesus. Jesus had made sure that I arrived at my grandparents home safely, He had made sure to give me the idea to save the evidence to show my grandparents. Thank you, Jesus for saving my soul and for saving me from my dad.
The next morning, my grand-parents said there was a counselor I needed to talk to. Rand Hummell was speaking at a church in the area. I was taken to talk to Rand Hummell. I told Rand Hummell about my father and the evidence I had. He completely ignored that. He told me that I had spent too much time on the internet. I had been exposed to these bad ideas on the internet. He talked about his book, “The Dark Side of the Internet.” I tried to explain that I hadn’t seen any of this on the internet. He focused on the fact that I had ran away from home. Many young girls do this because they are lured over the internet. I tried to tell him and my grand-parents I hadn’t been lured but that I had come to my grandparents house because I wanted my dad to stop hurting me. Rand Hummell told me that I needed to work on my attitude and let God work on my dad.
I was told to repent for running away, and causing so much pain. I did apologize for running away.
Unknown to me, my grand-father had not only been calling Rand Hummell. He had also made calls to another one of his pastor friends. This was Pastor Jason Casey Jason Casey is the Pastor and Director of Victorious Valley Baptist Church and Home for Girls in Sunset, SC. My grandparents asked me if i wanted to go somewhere that “would help me, and where I would be safe.”
Of course!
I still thought I was going to be staying with my grandparents.
I was very wrong. That evening my parents flew in. My grandparents and my parents went out to dinner, where I now know they discussed how it was set up by my grand-father for me to go to Victorious Valley Home for Girls. I was sent back home to pack. Within a few days I found myself at Victorious Valley. I was made to confess that I had made up malicious lies, and repent for my causing “pain” to “many.”
Before anyone judges me for doing so, I was forced. If I didn’t repent, I was punished. Put in solitary where I was forced to listen to the preacher on tape constantly. “Spanked,” and denied what they called “privileges,” such as showers, meals and bathroom privileges (other than when they decided I needed such things). I was a good girl, most of the girls there were good girls. It didn’t take long to break us.
Once I “graduated” from Victorious Valley I went home for the summer. As expected,in my family I attended Bob Jones University. A few days before leaving for college, I noticed my father was entering my little sister’s room. I went to college, haunted, knowing my father was now hurting my little sister. I didn’t know what to do. I was a student at Bob Jones University in 2010. One of my roommates complained that my nightmares were keeping “the room awake.” She was the Hall Leader. I was called to my dorm supervisors office and explained that I had been having nightmares. Without asking any other questions, her comment to me was, “That is the price one pays for watching Horror movies.” Was sent to the dorm counselor, with orders to not wake my roommates any more!
I finally told the dorm counselor that about my father. I told her that my little sister had told me that since I had left for college he was coming into her room. The dorm counselor gave me a copy of Dr. Jim Berg’s book, Changed Into His Image. She told me she would pass this along to the Dean of Women too. The next day, the dorm counselor called me to her room and asked why I had “lied” when she asked why I was having “bad dreams.” I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t ask, she TOLD me, “that was the price one pays for watching Horror movies.” She told me, that Dr. and Mrs. Berg were had counseled hundreds of students who were sexually abused, and I was to report to Dr. Berg in a few days. (Now remember, other than my grand-parents, my dorm counselor was the first person I had tried to tell the whole story to since I was 14,)
When I went to see Dr. Berg he asked me a lot of questions. One thing he told me was that I was not to tell anyone I had attended Victorious Valley. He then went on and said he had spoken with his wife and she would be “happy to counsel” me for the rest of the semester. Dr. Berg was not suggesting I speak with his wife, he was not asking me to consider this, I WOULD speak with his wife. The next day, Mrs. Berg and I began meeting. One of her first things she told me was that if I had any pleasure from what happened between myself and my father, God required me to repent of those feelings. That I needed to give up “control,” and a lot of other things. I started crying as I told her I was worried about my little sister.
The next morning, I went to class as usual. Upon returning I had a message to come to my dorm supervisors room. I did. She told me that Dr. Berg had called my father and told him of what I had been saying. My father denied this, of course. I was talked to by my dorm supervisor for awhile about how God expects us to tell the truth. Though tears, I told her I had told the truth. I was sent to the Dean of Women’s office and confronted again.
Miss Baker called my mother. My mother has known for years about the abuse. My mother was crying and angry because she told me, “You are tearing our family apart.” I knew my mother had called my grand-father too. I’m sure he made calls to the University and told them all about the “little family liar.”
The penalty for “lying” was 50 demerits. I was also put on spiritual probation. I accumulated a lot of demerits, for small things that added up. Right before Thanksgiving break, my hall-leader roommate turned me in for playing “un-checkable” music on my violin in my room. I was as they call it, “shipped” the next day. If Bob Jones, the Dean of Women, Dr. or Mrs Berg reported this to any law enforcement it is news to me. However, they did tell my mother, my hall-leader roommate.
I will be getting in contact with G.R.A.C.E. It’s hard for me to have any hope after all these years that Christians will believe me, but I’m going to contact GRACE anyway. I pray Jesus to whom I prayed to as a 14 year-old girl will come through this time.
here are a few concluding thoughts.
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