Courageous Farewell

It takes courage to say goodbye. Telling someone you love that you deserve better than what you are receiving takes major balls. Self respect is something that not everyone has, and confidence in…

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When the Church Sides With the Abuser

The cook at my Christian co-op had a dark secret.

This story was submitted anonymously.

Warning: contains references to child sexual abuse.

In my freshman year of university I lived in a co-operative house for young Christian men.

It was like a fraternity without the parties. All 50+ of us slept in two big bunk rooms so we couldn’t invite people over for sex. We did all the chores ourselves.

There was only one position for which we hired someone from outside the house: the head cook. We assisted him in preparing meals on a rotating schedule.

I thought John (not his real name) was a pretty cool guy at first. He was a musician, in his early 40s, lighthearted and funny. I enjoyed learning how to prepare food and listening to his music while we worked.

John worked with us for a few months; then he was gone.

I didn’t know if he quit or was fired. Turns out, the reason for his departure was that he admitted to sexually abusing a foster child in his care six years earlier.

It was a 12-year-old boy. A boy who John knew had been sexually abused before coming into his care. He also abused this boy’s friend, who was under 14 as well.

It’s hard to remember the details of how the news broke. Maybe I’ve blocked it from my mind. I know I felt violated: had I been at risk all this time? Why else would someone with his history apply for a job where he’s surrounded by young men every day?

I only saw him one time after finding out about what he had done, and it was at church. I was walking out of the congregation room, through the foyer, and out the front door with my girlfriend.

He was chatting merrily with a group of people standing in the foyer.

I have two memories of this moment, and they seem to be at odds with each other. In the first memory, he looked over at me and said hi, smiling enthusiastically as I walked past. In the second memory, I didn’t notice his greeting at all. My girlfriend asked me once we got outside: “why did you ignore John? He was saying hi to you.”

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