Two R's Diverged in a Yellow Wood

Rebellion or repentance. You have to choose.

In my early 20s, I became emotionally enmeshed in a sexual relationship I had no business fostering. It was a co-dependent chemical addiction, one that defied all reason and logic and ran roughshod over what fragments remained of my moral compass at the time. It jeopardized both my job and my relationships with people who trusted me, but I didn’t care. I was hooked. It wasn’t illegal, but it was immoral. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I kept returning to it time and time again, like a person trying to shove a puzzle piece into the wrong space, convincing herself it could be a legitimate fit when, in fact, leaving it there would skew the entire picture.

For about six weeks, I rebelled against my conscience, feeding myself on lies that God might possibly sanction my rebellion and bless it with a miraculous fairy tale ending. But a loving God can’t endorse disobedience. And shortly after discovering I was pregnant and fielding a threatening phone call from one of my then-partner’s drug dealers, the writing was on the wall. I could not go on this way. I had to come clean. I had to tell my employer. I had to confess to my friends. I had to end the relationship.

It’s some of the most spiritually fraught work I hope to ever be forced to complete in this lifetime. I was spiritually and mentally ill. I felt a strong demonic presence literally choking me in my room at night. I moved in with my mentor and slept with the light on. One night, she actually had to sleep in the same bed as me to keep me from an actual nervous breakdown. I don’t enjoy re-living my darkest moments, nor do I enjoy sharing them with others, especially as so many are so quick to condemn and to weaponize my failures against me.

But as I spend so much time publicly confronting sexual abuse and sin, I realize that one of the reasons I’m able to do so is because I’ve practiced what I’m preaching. I’m not inviting anyone to do work I haven’t first done myself.

And the name of that particular work is repentance. The truth is that there’s no freedom without it. And it’s shockingly, inexcusably absent, especially in places of power, and especially in places in the church.

I was reminded of this again recently when I read the IBLP’s response to the docuseries “Shiny, Happy People, which exposed the IBLP’s well-documented abuses and cover-ups that harmed countless people. No rational person observing the preponderance of evidence could honestly conclude that the IBLP is anything but guilty. The game is up. The cards are on the table. The world can see what actually happened there. But when faced with the choice to rebel or repent, the IBLP has chosen the former. It reminds me of the time I confronted my 4-year-old about the container of Oreos with the frosting licked out of the middle and she told me, through a face full of chocolate crumbs, that she had no idea what could have happened to them. They’re not fooling anyone. So why the resistance? Why keep running? Aren’t they tired? Why not fall into grace and rebuild the ruins? Do they have any idea how healing it would be for thousands of people to see them model the godly repentance they beseech of others?

They’re hardly the only example of this. Julie Roys recently exposed the horrific truth about a situation involving John MacArthur’s megachurch and the abusive way they handled former church member Eileen Gray when she left her violent pedophile of a husband. The terrified Eileen refused to return to the marriage out of fear of the harm that would befall her and her kids if she did, but her church eldership bullied her for resisting. They sent her a series of threatening letters, warning her of impending church discipline should she continue in her resistance. One of the letters read, “It has become increasingly apparent that the greatest reason for the turmoil in the lives of your children, in the lives of your husband, and in your own life is your refusal to forgive David, to support him in his attempts to change his thinking and behavior, and to reconcile with him.”

She was further admonished to “follow his leadership as the Scripture teaches.” When Eileen refused, John MacArthur himself, made a public declaration to his 8000 member congregation at the evening service, announcing that Eileen Gray was to be treated as an unbeliever for her lack of compliance with church directives. A short time later, her husband David was arrested for violence and sexual crimes against children. He is still incarcerated for those crimes.

But John MacArthur has never apologized. Instead, he claims he’s being persecuted when anyone invites him to acknowledge his church’s obvious and overt failures in their handling of situations like Eileen’s. He, too, rebels against the very repentance that would minister to the souls of the people he would lead.

Doug Wilson’s cult is plagued with sexual abuse scandal after sexual abuse scandal, but the man will never apologize for his abysmal leadership in that department. To my knowledge, his church STILL has not enacted an official sexual abuse prevention and response policy, even after multiple congregants, an elder, and an affiliated teacher have been convicted of sexual crimes. There’s no godly grief on behalf of the wounded. There’s no critical self-analysis asking important questions like, “What have I done to contribute to this suffering?” Nope. Just more pomp, circumstance, victim-shaming, and extreme arrogance in the place reserved for repentance. Time does not heal all wounds; repentance does. If you won’t repent, you should not lead.

And the principle isn’t only reserved for those in leadership. I see it all the time in my work with individuals, too.

I tread lightly here because I know this subject is so sensitive for so many, but I’m not helping anyone if I don’t speak frankly about the truth that can heal. Since my area of passion is in helping women walk in freedom, I have to name one of the heaviest hitters that keeps the women I care about from the restoration they desire. It’s abortion, and specifically, the refusal to repent from past abortion experiences.

It is my deeply held belief that abortion either breaks a woman’s heart, or it hardens it. Bringing up the topic is like pushing on a really painful bruise, and some women would rather claw your eyes out than allow you to see their shame. It’s just too painful to go there. Excuses serve as substitutes for truth. “I had no choice” is the lie standing in for “I was in a really dark place. I shouldn’t have chosen it, and I’m sorry I did.”

And again, it’s not about shaming anyone. It’s about identifying the roadblocks in the way of freedom. Sin separates us from God. He is eager to forgive it, but first we have to admit that we need forgiveness. Refusing to repent is like breaking a leg and then never setting it correctly. The rest of the body is going to compensate for the injury, and there will be a price to pay for neglecting the care it needs. You’ll walk with a limp. Swelling, tenderness, and pain will only increase over time, causing significant disruption to your everyday life to the degree that your pain will even affect the way you engage other people. Setting a broken bone hurts for a minute, but it’s ultimately the only path to true healing. It’s the same with repentance.

In 2 Samuel, we see the prophet Nathan confront King David about his own sexual sin. And there, right in the pages of Scripture, we see the only appropriate response to the conviction of sin: We see David publicly grieve his own wickedness. We see him fast and pray and mourn. And we see the Lord restore him. This is what it means to walk with God. But godly repentance is modeled so infrequently from the pulpit that it’s no wonder we have a hard time remembering how to practice it in our everyday lives. Repentance is a gift, but we treat it like a plague, recoiling from the very suggestion that we might possibly have anything that might require such a humiliating activity.

We can cling to our sin, or we can cling to Jesus, but we cannot have both. He loves us too much to leave us in our funk. Whatever horrible thing we’ve done, His grace is sufficient to cover it.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9.

If we call ourselves Christians, we might as well live like we believe this is true.