“I love when people that have been through hell walk out of the flames carrying buckets of water for those still consumed by the fire.” – Stephanie Sparkles www.livelifehappy.com
**Names marked with an asterisk (*) have been changed for the privacy of individuals and their families**
Just A “Typical” Sunday
When Brother Nicholas* preached, “God Leads Us Along,” he probably knew little of the trials and waves that raged about me or the fires that threatened to consume me all those years ago. I believe it was the summer following my college freshman year: spirit broken, courtship called-off, future plans in question, and an agreement made to be completely submitted to the control of my mentor and her husband, Randy, as they helped me pick up the pieces left behind. All three of us believed they were “biblical authorities” in my life, and all three of us agreed (incorrectly) that I had made a mess of my life that year in college.
This particular Sunday was just like any other Sunday that summer, filled with excitement to be at church with God’s people and to hear His Word preached, but it was also just a typical Sunday with an ever-growing list of regulations from Randy based on my actions the previous week. Could this particular Sunday service have followed the week that Randy demanded that I no longer attend our church because of a disagreement between us? Could it have followed the week when instead of passing out tracts in silence, I “disobeyed” by witnessing to a customer I had gotten to know at work? Perhaps it was just another week when I was supposed to go down to the altar and “repent,” and then beg someone to help me because I “needed to get saved.” The consequences of not going down during invitation often involved being severed from their family, knowing I was emotionally dependent upon his wife, until I met yet another ridiculous expectation. He did usually follow up such declarations with an alternative demand, but it was just as outlandish and irrational as the first one.
Though several of my college friends had tried to warn me that something was off about Randy, those concerns only confirmed in Randy’s mind that those friends were ungodly and not “part of the ten percent” of students that were actually at Bible college to serve the Lord. To make matters worse, whenever he found out that I had sought advice out of desperation, he made sure the consequences equaled his view on my “dragging his name through the mud.” Perhaps, instead, this was merely another week that he had accused me of speaking with those friends over the summer after being directed not to contact them for the supposed sake of my spiritual growth. There were literally times in my life when the only one I could turn to was God.
Closing my eyes, I can still hear Brother Nicholas’s* endearing voice echoing sweetly through our little church’s auditorium:
“God leads His dear children along
Some through the waters, some through the flood
Some through the fire, but all through the blood
Some through great sorrow, but God gives a song
In the night season and all the day long.”
Brother Nicholas’s* message was like a soothing ointment to my wounds, a gift tenderly bestowed at just the time I needed it most. It was a reminder that no matter what fires I had to walk through, no matter what trials I had to face, the Bible promised that God was a buckler and a strong tower that I could run into for safety as God’s child. No matter how hard the waters raged, God would carry me through, and just like who God was, He would give me a song of peace along the way.
A Time to Speak or a Time to Keep Silent?
The Lord used that message to nourish my soul for years to come, but what if I had heeded my friends’ warnings and advice much sooner? What if the other girls under Randy and my mentor had been warned as well by someone before us? Could that not have limited the extent of Randy’s destruction in our lives? I will never know the answer to those questions, but I have long desired to warn Randy’s future pastors about the man who was outwardly intriguing and lighthearted, but was inwardly a ravening wolf. Considering his focus on teenagers, the probability was high that several teens after me would later reject the Lord because of Randy’s influence, but there was nothing more that I could do.
For the next several years, I began to find my voice after the long periods of silence, and I started to weed through the extreme viewpoints on Scripture and living the Christian life. In the process, I met countless others who had also experienced the tumultuous waves of spiritual abuse. They were abandoned by their pastors, youth leaders, parents and teachers. Their spiritual guides had betrayed their trust, covered up the abuse, and then exalted the ones responsible for the damage, all while leaving the victims to pick of the pieces of their broken lives. I realized that not only should I have spoken up during my time with Randy and his family, but that I could never be silent again. I could never allow myself to hide behind my fears, not just for the sake of my own well-being, but because there were a multitude of people who had escaped but still dealt with the residual trauma day-by-day, and countless victims that were still trapped within the confines of spiritual abuse. Above knowing I needed to speak, however, I made one determination and promise to myself: I would never allow someone to control and silence me again.
Imagine my surprise, when almost nine years later, I found myself in a position where silence about a moral issue- or lack thereof- appeared to affect my husband’s standing in the ministry and his ability to serve! Whether or not this was Douglas Stauffer or Pastor Andrew Ray’s intention, it worked incredibly well.
Back in the Fire
In June of 2018, Douglas Stauffer claimed that there had been a “church rupture” at Antioch Baptist Church in 2017, supposedly “the best thing that could have happened,” but it is my strong opinion that Stauffer’s actions proved that the dangerous infection had merely been left behind by the summer of 2018. After speaking out in June 2018, I feel that Douglas Stauffer used fear and Pastor Andrew Ray used shame to silence me for months, resulting in intense emotional distress on me and my husband, and on my young family as well. We loved our church family, and we felt that same love from the majority of those in our church family, but that same care only increased my struggle to keep silent, further straining my relationship with my husband. Unfortunately, the problem came down to two drastically different options: (1) protecting our unknowing church family and keeping that promise to myself of never being controlled or silenced again while completely disregarding my husband’s wishes or (2) supporting my husband by letting go of myself and my own personal boundaries. I was suffocating between a rock and a hard place.
Waking Up
I often conceded for my husband’s sake and for the sake of our marriage, but by the time Stauffer approached us again in August 2018 in what I felt was a threatening manner, that flicker of strength had already been re-kindled through the validation of my parents, friends, therapist, and multiple other survivors of spiritual abuse. I started to realize that Pastor Andrew Ray and Douglas Stauffer were merely “big fish in a small pond,” and thankfully, Pastor Ray broke the final straw the day before our final meeting with Staufer when Pastor Ray said we were trying to destroy our church by seeking advice back in June. Despite the turmoil between us at the time, Matt and I decided as a team that day that it was our time to leave Antioch Baptist Church in 2018, thereby numbering Pastor Ray and Douglas Stauffer’s days of manipulation and control over my family to a mere seven days.
We were broken. We were trodden down, and there was nothing else for those involved to take, but in September 2018, we gathered our immediate family together, bid farewell to our church family, and ventured off into uncertainty while making our home a “safe place” for our family once again: one that protected us from men like Douglas Stauffer.
Shortly thereafter, I determined once again to take my power back by breaking the silence of what occurred within those walls. The pain in my children’s faces were my living reminders that I needed to warn others about Pastor Andrew Ray, and especially about Douglas Stauffer. Though my desire for speaking out was never to hurt Pastor Ray or Stauffer, I needed to share my story with every fiber of my being so that maybe-just maybe- even one person might heed the warnings one day, and thus be spared the heartache that still impacts my family today.
In this series I share my thoughts and opinions concerning these ministers and the events which led to my departure. Click here to continue reading: “Blindsided: Our Letter to the Witnesses” or click on the link below.
For a list of the complete series, click here.
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