How to Train Baby Elephants
Revisited
I’ve written about the spiritual abuse I endured from multiple pastors at multiple churches over twenty-four years. Although those writings and this interview were not meant to be exhaustive, they show, in part, that as one who has experienced such abuse, I see it better now and am much more understanding of others who have endured it.
I don’t know how to explain it, but you can’t unsee it once you have witnessed pastors lying, covering up sins, intentionally hiring “yes men” while building their mini-kingdom, and putting the image of the institution that pays their salaries ahead of the truth of the Bible at the cost of the health of the congregation. It’s like in the first Matrix movie, where Neo slowly understands his programmed reality, but it’s not until he dies (SPOILER ALERT) that he can see the Matrix.
I’ve seen too much pastoral corruption to want to go back to church, and I know too much Scripture and love Christ too much to neglect meeting with one another.
I’m well aware that until you or a loved one has been spiritually abused, you won’t understand it, either. The best you can offer someone like me are worn-out clichés like, “No church is perfect” or “Everyone sins.” You haven’t been forced to consider the difference between your pastor’s sins and criminal activities, nor have you realized that if a Christian sins and asks for forgiveness, it doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences. Likewise, if a pastor’s sin is characteristic of the pastor, they have disqualified themselves from the pastoral office, no longer being above reproach. But you haven’t experienced such atrocities at the hands of “godly” pastors, so you don’t know what I’m talking about.
Therefore, the problem must be with me. My expectations for a church and pastors are too high. I’m bitter; I need to forgive and move on. Abuse is a double-edged sword; the one abused suffers not only the abuse but also the painful isolation from those who don’t understand your experience.
How to Train Elephants
I’ve told this story here but never written about it.
Here goes:
In May of 2017, I had just passed my ordination exams (written and oral). I have been a pastoral intern for three years and five months. The length of my internship did not reflect my need to be more ready and qualified. In fact, two years into my eighteen-month internship, the lead pastor told me I was gifted and qualified but just needed experience (he told me this after I had successfully led our leadership team in an adjudication process that involved him and a church member).
After passing my ordination exams in late May 2017, one of the pastors was getting coffee in our church office. I popped out of my office to greet him, and he asked me the most random question, “Keith, do you know how they train elephants?” He then informed me that when the elephant was a baby, the trainers tied a rope around its ankle and, on the other end, around a stake in the ground. They would whip the baby elephant to encourage it to try to escape, but because of the rope around its ankle, it couldn’t flee the torture. He then concluded that this was done so that once the elephant was a full-grown adult, if the trainers ever needed to get it under their control, all they had to do was put a rope around its ankle. Immediately, the mighty adult elephant would physically sulk back into submission. It didn’t matter that it was a hundred times stronger than the rope; the elephant had been conditioned to submit to cruelty.
Three months later, the pastors broke their promise to ordain me (again). To save face, they concocted a reason for the delay: I didn’t spank my children for not reading their Bibles on their own time and for not standing and singing worship songs during the Sunday service. I was accused of my parenting views being heretical (this after I had just passed their ordination theology exams and had lived my life openly within the church for the past 14 years). In my defense, I wrote a paper explaining my views and practices regarding parenting in detail.
Where’s the Rope?
I met with the pastors a few weeks later to discuss my paper. All three of the church’s pastors were in that room. One of whom, who had told me the story of elephant training, had been connected to the church through church-planting partnerships for over twenty years. He started his time as a pastor in the early 1990s by planting a church in Virginia Beach. However, they did not want to discuss my paper, and they accused me of being proud since I defended myself instead of “humbly submitting to their leadership.” I held my ground and denied wrongdoing with a clear conscience.
Then that pastor who had told me the story about elephant training months ago looked at the other pastors and said, “You know… If Keith had grown up in Virginia Beach, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”
He was lamenting that he couldn’t put a rope around my ankle.
He was lamenting that he couldn’t control me.
The End of My Internship
At this point in the 18-month internship, it had been three years and 8 months. I led our children’s and youth ministries, created and led our singles ministry, preached on Sundays regularly, led the office staff, and led the building maintenance and security teams — I had my hand in 40% of all the church teams and ministries. My personal finances were audited every month, my personal schedule from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. was reviewed every week, I led or was required to attend eleven church meetings per month, was earning a near-poverty level income of $3,000 per month for a family of five in a high cost of living city, and my wife’s grocery stores and Facebook account were monitored and subject to evaluation. I had completed a two-year pastoral program in my Arizona church and was coming up to the fourth year of my pastoral internship in Colorado. My wife and I endured six years of formal evaluation, overworked and underpaid.
I had lived under the church’s public scrutiny long enough that such an accusation could not stand.
However, the pastors controlled the narrative, and they still had control over the congregation. That is often the case; the one who holds the power controls the narrative while re-writing history to suit their lies and clean up their image.
Many church members had asked the pastors if I could preach one last time before leaving. They said, “No.” Then, the pastors asked me if I would be willing to say some final words to the church, to which I agreed since I loved the people. But when my last Sunday came, the pastors decided to keep me away from the microphone, and I wasn’t even allowed to address my church family one last time publicly.
After the service, a party was held in my honor, but it was all for show. The people were genuine, but the pastors wanted me to leave quietly.
Shortly after, we fled. We moved back to Arizona to be around family.
I’m Sorry Eddie Dalton
The last family meeting I attended at that church was in the Spring of 2017. The cowardly pastors had just notified the church that the prior lead person was no longer a part of the pastoral team and was leaving the church due to a change in theology. The truth, however, was he was found to be disqualified for unrepentant sins. But to keep everyone happy, the politician pastors lied to the church and gave the disqualified pastor a 3-month severance package so that he would leave quietly.
The three pastors sat on the stage and fielded questions from the congregation. They designated me as the runner with the microphone; I wasn’t allowed to answer any questions.
Eddie Dalton was a very jovial older man who suffered from health issues for a long while. But you wouldn’t know it on Sundays. Every Sunday during the music/singing time of the service, Eddie would stand, dance, sing at the top of his lungs, and whistle as one overjoyed by the grace of God in Christ Jesus. I loved Eddie’s authenticity.
During my last family meeting, Eddie raised his hand with a question. It was towards the end of the meeting time, and the questions began to grow more honest. I handed him the microphone, and this is what he asked,
“What’s wrong with our church that we’re always losing leaders?”
With tears in both his eyes and voice, he continued to lament the state of our church and how it had constantly lost leaders and elders over the past 20+ years. My heart broke for Eddie as he struggled not only to ask the question but to understand its reality. Then, the corrupt pastors (who had only been at the church a little over a year) began to lie to him, and my already broken heart sunk deep into my soul.
You see, this wasn’t only my last family meeting at this church; it was Eddie’s, too. Soon after I moved back to AZ, Eddie passed away. And every time I think about that moment — of a humble, gentle soul asking his leaders what’s wrong with his church — asking with trust and vulnerability — I cry (crying now).
Some threw out the possibility that the church was spiritually cursed, that it was just bad luck, or that we should focus on the good that we have. I offer Eddie my late answer, though I take peace knowing he already has the answer in heaven.
My answer is this: The problem with the church is that the pastors do not care about the Bible. Period. Many times, the Bible was presented to them to do what was right, and they often chose to ignore it. They are not God-fearing men but are hired hands who only look out for their own well-being. They care nothing about God’s flock or God’s Word. As the Apostle Paul warned the Ephesian church in Acts 20, the savage wolves come from within the church. That is what the problem is. The church congregation has their own Bibles, and if they choose to stay and not be like Bereans, they bear the responsibility. Many fled during 2014–2016 (500 members down to 220), and more fled during 2017 (220 down to 80). If the corrupt leadership doesn’t leave, then the people need to flee.
The disciples of Christ will know His voice, and we are to flee whenever someone claims to speak on Christ’s behalf, which sounds nothing like Christ Jesus.
The Re-Writing of History
Once I left, the pastors’ next step was to clean up their image. So, they created a lie that I stole money from the church and that they had fired me. Nothing was further from the truth, but history is not written by the abused. Those who knew me knew it wasn’t true and left the church.
That was seven years ago. The damage is real, and so is God’s healing grace. May I never forget the lessons learned, and may I continue to love the Bible more and more. And continue to love God more and more, who is nothing like these corrupt savage wolves.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come!
