Will the Church rise up?

If sexual harassment is a trigger, move right along, no hard feelings. If you want to see evidence of the church rising up, keep reading.

I walked into the church building for the Sunday night North Georgia Revival ready to worship, glean from a sermon, and witness lives change in the baptismal pools. I’ve been going to this church since last August and have felt the roof peel back and the glory of Heaven come down.

I was about to walk through the crisp wooden doors into the main sanctuary hall to find my friends and snag a good seat when a security guard pulled me aside. He explained that at the morning service, a man had been standing a little too close to me and staring a little too long at me. I knew exactly which man he was talking about and shrugged my shoulders in reluctance and denial. I was at a church I called home and a congregation I considered family; what could go wrong? 

I hurried in, claimed my seat (by the aisle, of course) and walked up towards the altar for worship. I hugged the Pastor’s wife, Paula Jo, as the countdown ticked on the screen. Before I could register what was happening, the man walked past Paula Jo, grabbed my waist and swiftly disappeared into the crowd. I whipped my head around to see who had just touched me as the service was opening. 

I froze. 

Without missing a beat, Paula Jo took two steps and held my hand as she asked ‘Did that man just grab you?’. I was frozen. She asked again, keeping her voice steady as I was now gripping her wrist, if that man had really just grabbed me. 

I knew the answer but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that someone grabbed my waist within the four walls of my own church. 

Suddenly, I was weeping as the memories flooded in with a vengeance: I was back in that hotel room, I had those bruises, I was in that police station. It felt as if the ground was falling out from under me. She kept repeating JESUS over and over in my ear as I remembered I was at church. I was safe. I was held. I was taken care of. I was loved.

Worship ended and I turned to go back to my seat. Two security guys stopped me and asked where I was sitting so they could keep an eye on me. I sat back down with my friends. I have hardly any recollection of what the sermon was about, just that I ugly cried through its entirety. I just wanted to go home. I didn’t want to be at church anymore. 

The sermon ended, the baptisms began, and again we saw Heaven come down. I was on the serve team and took photos of the baptisms and the miracles in front of my very eyes until just past midnight then headed home. 

I went to work on Monday morning feeling unsteady, my assumption of ‘safe’ shattered. I had been harassed in a bar before, assaulted at work, and now grabbed in church. Where was I safe? 

Monday night, a security guy messaged me that the man would no longer be at the church anymore. What was intended to be a celebration of sincere caretaking sent me further downhill: Was this my fault? Was this an overreaction? Was it really that big of a deal? Doesn’t this man need to go to church, too? And, I hate to admit it, is it because I curled my hair on Sunday night? Did I look like I wanted to be touched? (hello, father of lies).

We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. (2 Corinthians 10:5)

I immediately messaged Paula Jo and she affirmed what I knew in my heart to be true: I did nothing wrong. It doesn’t matter if I curl my hair. 

Wednesday afternoon, I messaged Paula Jo again, just to make sure that there was security present during the mid-week service. She said yes (of course) and an hour later, the Pastor called me. 

And I will give you shepherds according to My heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding. (Jeremiah 3:15)

He told me about his meeting with the pastors and elders, describing this situation as a piece of a bigger puzzle that hadn’t affected only me. And, he told me the church has an incredible security team of people who aren’t necessarily worship leaders or pastors, but protectors. Most have a military background and are lined up saying, ‘put me in coach’, ready to protect the Body of Christ. I reassured him and said I know the church had done nothing wrong. Everything was fine. He read between the lines and said, ‘Kati, this is the church. This will be the safest place we can possibly make it. This will be a reflection of Heaven’. 

I told him I trust him and I trust the church, but I don’t feel super great about coming back tonight. If the man wanted to retaliate against me for him being removed from the church, he would. 

Pastor said he understood. And that when I get to the church parking lot, I can shoot him a message and he will make sure someone will come walk with me inside, sit nearby, and then walk me back to my car when the night ends. All just to make sure I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m safe and protected.

I chuckled. I knew the pastors had security details, but I’m not a pastor, I’m just a 25 year-old scaredy-cat (there’s that voice again). Thankfully I already had a tissue in my hands before he said: “You are worth protecting”. I knew I didn’t need the extra security. I knew the church was safe. I really did trust them. But sometimes the longest distance is from our heads to our hearts. 

As promised, I let them know when I was at church that night. The pastor saw me from across the sanctuary and shot a ‘thumbs-up’ to make sure I was okay. I was seen. I was safe. I was taken care of. I was loved. Deeply. 

God sends angels with special orders to protect you wherever you go, defending you from all harm. (Psalm 91:11)

Sure enough, after the service, I met Angela, the very angel sent to protect me. On the way home, I cried and cried (and cried). 

For what may be the first time, I felt the protective heart of the Father. The heart that cries out in defense (Isaiah 1:17), that stands guard at the gate (Habakkuk 2:1), that cares deeply about even the smallest details (Matthew 10:29-31). 

Hear this: it would have been so easy for the church to turn their head and say, ‘he just grabbed you’. To follow suit in the laundry list of church scandals that widen the gap between sexual harassment and the response of the church. Would I have even spoken up if Paula Jo hadn’t seen the whole thing? Would I have trusted they take me seriously even without knowing my story and my past?

All the institutions that have hushed secrecy in an attempt to protect the pristine image of the gospel instead missed the biggest opportunity to rise up as the Body and exhibit justice and mercy and really, the love of Christ. 

But, THIS CHURCH. This church isn’t playing games. The pastors are shepherding their sheep with due diligence and protecting us from the wiles of the devil. Saying something is one thing, but their actions – quick and intentional – gave evidence to the integrity of their beliefs. They left no room for the enemy, no room for the lies that would ensue and instead leaned in and let Heaven come closer. This church truly created a sanctuary.

So… no, I don’t need the extra security nor the reassurance that I’m safe inside my church when I know I’m in the hands of the Father; but this season revealed the protective, covenantal love of God like never before and for that, I’m grateful. The value of the Church and the body of Christ cannot be overstated. To hold up a mirror to Heaven and allow others to be seen, known and loved is our calling and commission; and church simply becomes the context we live on mission together. May we do it well. 

Join me in prayer: Lord, thank you for pastors and leaders that reflect your heart of grace, compassion and love. May this church be an example of shepherds with hearts like Yours. May we be quick to protect, to defend, to comfort and to love and may we continue to live as Heaven on earth.