The first friend I lost who died because of being sexually abused by an SBC pastor was named Andy. He died at age 41, 13 years ago. We grew up together. Like most Southern Baptist church kids, we did everything together back then.

We were at church every day and twice on Sundays. Monday’s were bible study. Tuesday’s were visitation. Wednesday was youth choir and we had Christian rock band that played and then did Bible study. Thursday was FCA. Friday’s we’d usually have a “lock-in,” or watch a Christian themed movie, or some other church related event. Saturday’s we played multiple sports year-round for the church’s teams. Baseball, softball, football, soccer, basketball, you name it, we played it. Our church boasted the “World’s Largest Christian Sports Ministry.” When I say we were at church every day, I wasn’t exaggerating.

Andy and I had something else in common. Little did we know we had the same perpetrator at the same time. Like most of us, he didn’t know how to cope with the pain, shame, and self-blame of being raped by our youth minister. And it cost him his life.

 

Recently we lost Duane. Much has been written, but most will never know the real pain. If you don’t understand how this cost him so much, if you aren’t able to make the connection of his loss to the SBC, then I can’t help you.

 

Jen Lyell died a few days ago. Those of us fortunate enough to have known her, but unfortunate enough to have walked in her shoes; lucky enough to have spent time with her, to have laughed and cried with her…we are grieving beyond comprehension. 

She was kind and gentle, but oh so brilliant and fierce. But not because she wanted to be fierce. She was given no other option by the ruling-class religious leaders of the SBC. Just like the rest of us who’ve been sexually assaulted by members and ministers in the SBC.

She was brave and courageous, but not because she wanted to be. You’re only courageous when you have no other choices. And time after time after time, rapists/pastors/leaders/members of the SBC give us no choice but to stand and speak up. To name the predators and their enablers. To call them out for their crimes.

And this is the cost. It costs us our lives.

Sometimes, like with Jen, it cost an early death. For others, it’s a protracted torturous one.

The way members and leaders of SBC churches have taunted and tormented myself, and how they’ve attacked other victims and survivors even worse, should be a crime.

But make no mistake, it is the cost. And people who don’t see that either don’t want to see it, or are so connected to SBC power that they deny it in hopes of clinging to the money and influence of the SBC.

It’s that simple and that disgusting.

Even now, SBC mouthpieces, pundits, politicians, and perpetual conference-speakers are spewing their typical “thoughts & prayers” garbage. But they didn’t care about Jen then and they damn sure don’t care about her now. They didn’t care about her, or Duane, or Andy, or me, or Christa, or Hannah-Kate, or Jules, or Tiff, or, or, or, or… 

They don’t care about a single one of us. They want what they’ve always wanted. They want their “designated survivors” and insurance-approved, lawyer lackeys to stand on a stage in Dallas and sing their praises, as if they’ve done something to protect kids. And they want those of us who speak out against them, the ones who show the gaping holes in their dog-and-pony shows, to just shut up and go away. No matter how that happens.

That’s why the SBC has its lawyers fight us at every single turn. And they don’t tell you anything about that. They want to drag things out until we either can’t afford to fight it any longer, or until we’re dead. They don’t care which happens first.

Think I’m exaggerating? Ask around. You’ll find I’ve been doing this work for a while. I’m not lying or exaggerating.

Oh they love to preach about the love of Christ. But they don’t practice it. Well, unless that person thinks and looks exactly like they do. As long as they goose-step in line with every word they say.

They also love to preach God’s condemnation. They practice hellfire damnation with surgical precision. That they’ve mastered to the point of cruelty. None of which resembles Jesus.

They post “Christ is King,” “pastor/husband,” “soldier of God”…but nothing from the beatitudes. They’ve got plenty of bogus-macho attitude for God, but show no love for the “least of these.”

And when the full length of timber is pointed out in their eye, they raise unholy hell about the dust in ours. Their tartufferie is beyond the pale.

Speaking of pale, how are those white-washed tombs? Still filled with dead men’s bones? I used to wonder whose bones they were. Now I know. The bones are ours. It’s the remains of every victim they’ve left in their wake. They are like serial killers, with us as their trophies. 

And as I sit here in my grief for yet another victim whose lost their life because of abuse in the SBC, my hope is that those bones and dust are the only reward they’ll ever receive…

Am I bugging you? Do these words on a page make you flinch? Maybe ask yourself why my words seem to bother you more than the countless number of boys and girls being raped by people in SBC churches. Why doesn’t that bother you? Is it because you don’t believe it’s happening in the volume we know it does? Is it because you don’t believe it happens where you live? Or is it because you just don’t believe it at all?

I’m so sorry Jen that they didn’t believe you. I’m so sorry they called you such awful names. I’m sorry they made you lose that which you loved and cared about so much. I’m sorry our conversations couldn’t heal in the ways you needed. I’m sorry our support of each other wasn’t enough.

And I’m sorry that the ones who did all of this to all of us, they aren’t sorry at all.