Five Ways to Protect Abusers & Foster Abuse

I've been out of the blogging world for years. Although I would love to chronicle my adventures from the intervening time, the purpose of this post is to lend my voice to a topic that has become very important to me. So, here you go: how to protect abusers and foster abuse—in five easy steps!

1. Do nothing. Abuse in its many forms—physical, verbal, sexual, emotional, spiritual, etc.—are all around us in our churches, schools, neighborhoods, workplaces, and often our own homes. If you would like to protect abusers and provide a flourishing environment for abuse, your task is very simple: Do nothing. (It's the abuse victims that need friendship, counseling, affirmation, support groups, listening ears, recovery programs, and the like.)

2. Say nothing. To best protect abuse perpetrators, say nothing. That's the easiest thing to do, anyway—especially since abuse is such an awkward, taboo topic in most polite circles. So keep your quiet. After all, it's really the victims of abuse that need courageous pastors to preach, authors to write, neighbors to report, friends to speak out, and teachers to educate on this uncomfortable topic.

If you must speak out for the abusers, be sure you minimize their crimes and exhort all around you to show a spirit of amnesty and acceptance (which you will artfully term "forgiveness") for even the most unrepentant.

3. Stay out of it. Skip the articles in your news feed addressing the issue. Avoid educational programs that alert you to the signs of abuse and give you the tools and information you need to speak out and help. If you hear that someone you know has been abused, shrug and move on. And by all means, if you hear of a potential abuser in your community, ignore the tip-off and ask the informant not to tell you any more about the situation.

4. Don't believe it. If someone who trusts you tells you that they have been or are being abused, the best way to protect the abuser is to doubt the story of the person who has come to you for help—or at least ask them to keep quiet about it. If you hear that someone in your church has been abused, and that the abuser is also a church member, you mustn't believe it. To protect abusers, you need to believe that all innocent-looking people are indeed trustworthy, and you must trust them when they claim to be innocent of the charges. You must never think of upsetting an abuser's peaceful life by breaking the stifling silence they have cast about their victims. Just think about it: All an abuser really needs is silence. All they want is to avoid consequences for their actions. These are easy needs to provide. It's we abuse victims who have many messy needs for shoulders to cry on, friends to lean on, advocates to speak out, counselors and good listeners to help us process, safe places to flee to, tangible help to get us back on our feet, safe churches to grow in, and so on. That takes a lot of effort, and it's detrimental to the protection of abusers. So just don't believe the victims' stories.

5. Be neutral. If you find your church, workplace, circle of friends, family, or any other social group caught in a controversy about an abuse issue, just be neutral. Especially if a specific victim and abuser has been named, by all means be neutral—especially if you know the accused to be guilty. Even if you don't openly support the abuser, you give them all the protection they need by not standing boldly on the side of the victim. Don't get it backwards: It is abuse victims who need you to stand up and support them in times of crisis. Abusers need nothing but your neutrality.

Disclaimer: The author of this blog does not recommend protecting abusers. Instead, the intent is to point out the many ways in which we as church members, neighbors, family members, and citizens of the world do it every day.

Wilderness Peace

I haven't always been in love with the wilderness; the passion developed along with my ability to reason logically. As a young child out hiking with my family, I infamously stated that I'd rather be staring down the hole of an outhouse than walking this (spectacularly scenic Yellowstone) trail. My childish sarcasm gained me nothing but teasing from my siblings and a story I'll never live down. The family continued to drag me out hiking. Step by step, my appreciation for the wild outdoors grew, until by my teens, I had developed the family addiction.

The best kind of wilderness begins a whole day's hike in from the trail head, where the expanse of mountains, prairie, lakeshore, or desert land spreads out untainted and seemingly endless. The sunset's flaming colors paint soul-stirring magic on the wild countryside. Only the campfire, moon, and stars light up the black night. Only coyotes and owls, the crackling fire and the whispering wind break the stillness of your humbled, inspired thoughts.

Threads of thought tangled by the stresses and trauma of life begin to uncoil that first night in. Perplexing problems start finding solutions. The soul relaxes from its daily strain and hears more clearly its own voice and that of its Lord.

God used the wilderness to shape many of His human heroes. Before Moses confronted the king of Egypt and led Israel to the Promised Land, he spent 40 years in the wilderness communing with God and herding sheep. Before beginning his mission to the Gentiles, Paul spent time alone in the Arabian desert studying, meditating, and praying. John the Baptist spent most of his life in the wilderness, and it was there that he received his education for his life calling to announce Jesus as Messiah. Jesus Himself spent 40 days in the wilderness, to be alone to contemplate His mission, to fast and pray and brace Himself for His work—and be tempted and overcome sin on our behalf.

Time in the wilderness isn't wasted. Though no goods are produced, no words spoken, nobody influenced and no "good deeds" accomplished, time apart establishes clarity within one's thoughts, strengthens faith, and cements one's goals and life purpose. It gives the soul space to see and hear and understand God.

Out in the woods of the back 40 acres, the Iowa wilderness stirred my soul. White tailed does scampered out of my way as owls hooted and songbirds twittered. The wind rustled in the fallen leaves, and chattering squirrels scurried up regal old oaks. And the voice of the Spirit whispered inside my soul.

My wilderness isn't far from civilization, but that makes little difference. What matters is the delicious hollowness in my heart—emptiness, silence, openness; a quiet, undemanding readiness to be filled.

For at its core, my zest for the wilderness is a lifelong quest for peace.

The Test of a Calling

In every notable room in my parents' house, simple wooden shelves whisper volumes to anyone who stops to observe. They tell the purpose and function of not only the room, but also the people who use that room most. This ordinary furniture tells the secrets of thoughts, goals, dreams, and desires.

In my mother's office, the bookcase is loaded with volumes on two topics: spiritual instruction, and natural health and healing. The shelves in my father's studio host an eclectic assortment of artsy trinkets—and music books. The bookcases in the living room reflect their shared interests: gardening, traveling, family photos, hiking, nature identification. Like the pictures on the refrigerator, bookcases—full, empty, or absent—can help you get to know even a stranger.

I thought carefully when selecting the books for the shelves in my bedroom. I chose the books that I thought I would read and refer to most—and I boxed the rest up. Only later did I realize what the bookcase had to say about my passions, dreams, and interests.

Three of my seven shelves support books on birth, midwifery care, and home remedies. I placed them in the bookcase first, since I am, after all, a midwifery student. Two more shelves hold my spiritual books—not all of them, but the most special, as well as the ones I plan to read this year.

The remaining two shelves didn't make as much sense to me when I unpacked my books; I simply arranged them how my heart mandated. A few inspirational self-help books on personalities, relationships and romance, healing from past hurts. A handful of music books. My dictionary and thesaurus, Chicago Manual of Style, and Stein on Writing. Three empty journals received as gifts, twelve already filled, and one in progress. My writer's notebook, my binder full of Writer's Digest articles, and my writer's portfolio.

"The test of a calling, to me, is this," a friend recently remarked. "Can you do anything else? If so, do it."

When I left my job at Young Disciple, I didn't expect to be quickly called back into writing. Sure, I knew I would always have a writer's heart and I'd always dabble around with words. But, reasoning that the world has plenty of good authors (and no end to the mediocre), I planned to make my difference in the tangible world of mothers and babies.

And yet, as the bookcase testifies, the writer's calling has its stronghold in my soul. I can barricade myself with other pursuits; but like my friend, I have found that "God won't let me do anything else." As I cultivate new skills, knowledge, and interests—exploring the potential of new callings, to midwifery and other ministries—I have come to understand that in order to thrive, I must remain true to the calling God has already placed on my life, the talent He has already given. That's why, without abandoning my midwifery apprenticeship, I've added freelancing jobs and studies in journalism (plus a blog) back into my life, concurrently.

Do you know your calling, or would you like to discover it? Perhaps—just maybe—your bookcase already whispers it.