Why Church Hurt Victims Are Afraid to Talk
Image from Mary DeMuth Substack.
So I’m writing a book.
About all this messy church pain (and how to heal).
Currently, I’m writing a chapter about the importance of mourning.
What prevents us from mourning? What makes us not talk about what happened to us?
There are lots of reasons. Here are five.
One. We are afraid we’re gossiping.
In my research I read an excellent article by CT about our flawed thinking of gossip. (Please read it!) To be sure, gossip (in its actual sense) brings harm. But we’ve lost a nuanced and precise definition of gossip. We’ve conflated it to mean any time we talk about something, and if our speech is negative, then we’re guilty.
But what happens when we are simply trying to figure out if the place we were attending is abusive or spiritually harmful? If you’re in a closed system with staunch no-gossip policies, where do you go to try to discern what is happening? That’s why so many stay in abusive ministries. They can’t talk about it, so they can’t confirm their own suspicions.
To seek clarification and understanding is not gossip. When Patrick and I struggled in our last church, we did speak to people in the organization for clarification. He was invited to talk to a senior leader about our issues. Unfortunately, those meetings merited no change, and eventually we left. Before we vacated, though, we did consult with people outside of the ministry. We needed an outside perspective. Was it gossip to do so? No, our underlying reason for talking was to seek truth.
Aside: Using Matthew 18 against congregants is unfair and does not take into account the power systems in a sick church. Matthew 18 is for individual issues, not for systemic abuse.
Two. We have been trained in a culture of fear.
I watched just a few minutes of The Handmaid’s Tale yesterday. I couldn’t stomach it, to be honest, but I had turned it on out of curiosity as I’m researching cultic systems. The one thing that stood out to me in episode one was how the system turned every one of the women into informants. No matter where you were, you could be spied upon and turned in.
In a church system that operates a culture of fear, it can be a similar type of environment. You live in fear of speaking out because somehow someone will find out, and you will get in trouble. So you stay silent. You don’t know who to trust.
That silence exists even after you’ve left the system. You’ve been so trained to never say anything negative, that when you do, you get sick to your stomach. Fear comes in. And you continue to distrust even the safest of people. It’s hard to mourn honestly when you’re afraid of everyone.
Three. We think our pain is less than another’s.
Trauma comparison is not fruitful. We look at other people whose church pain is worse than ours and we reason, Well, I don’t deserve to mourn because what I went through is small compared to _________’s pain. Listen to me: if you were hurt in an abusive church or ministry situation, it’s imperative that you mourn that pain. It doesn’t matter if someone else’s hurt looms larger than yours. The truth is: you were hurt, and you need to work through that hurt.
Four. We blame ourselves for being in the situation in the first place.
When we “wake up” (to use cult-leaving language), we suddenly see everything differently. And we realize we were a cog in the machine of an abusive system. This is completely overwhelming to realize. We were part of the problem. We may have harmed others. The shame involved in that may prevent us from naming our pain and feeling like we deserve to heal.
Shame is a terrible motivator for healing. Instead of shaming yourself, ask God for forgiveness in any negative role you played, then ask him to search your heart. Be open to him revealing people you’ll need to apologize to. Then apologize.
Give yourself grace. Abusive systems are really good at keeping people deluded. It’s humbling to realize you’ve been duped, but in that realization is a beautiful opportunity for growth. See your time in the situation as a cautionary tale. Learn from what you walked through. Determine to exercise grace with those you lead. Apologize freely. Live humbly, knowing your own susceptibility to coercive control. (We have all fallen prey.)
Five. NDAs.
Many don’t mourn because they can’t talk about their experience. An abusive church or ministry system has fired them, then tied their livelihood to signing a nondisclosure agreement. This essentially stymies talking through what happened to them. To heal we must talk. How insidious that the institution who wreaked such havoc then pulls the rug out from healing by forcing an NDA. It’s evil. And it needs to stop.
In this case, it’s imperative that you find a group of safe friends outside the abusive church/ministry to process your pain with. You cannot heal in isolation. You cannot heal without telling your story.
I’m indebted to the Apostle Paul in working through my own church grief. May these words teach and encourage you:
“Then we will no longer be immature like children. We won’t be tossed and blown about by every wind of new teaching. We will not be influenced when people try to trick us with lies so clever they sound like the truth. Instead, we will speak the truth in love, growing in every way more and more like Christ, who is the head of his body, the church.” (Ephesians 4:14-15).
In those abusive systems, leaders tricked us with “lies so clever they sound like the truth.” How are we to learn from what we walked through? We speak the truth. We tell it in love. That is NOT gossip. We heal in safe community. The more we process our pain with good, honest friends, the more we will become like Jesus. And the more we’ll be able to expose nefarious ministries who harm the flock.
Article previously appeared on Mary DeMuth Substack, September 16, 2025.
About the Author: Mary DeMuth
Mary DeMuth is a literary agent, daily podcaster at PrayEveryDay.show, artist, speaker, and the author of 52 books. She lives in Texas with her husband and is the mom to three adult children. Find out more at marydemuth.com.
