#5: A Wolf in Shepherd's Clothing

About 10 months before Mom died, when I was almost 19, I moved to a small city about 45 minutes from home to take a course at the college, and started attending the Pentecostal church there.  With mom's failing health and dad's affair, things at home were quite unpleasant, so I was happy to escape.  My mom initially paid my room and board within walking distance from the college.  As I had some friends in town already, I soon was very much enjoying my time and I rarely if ever went home on weekends.  I was very involved in the church, playing the piano and singing on the worship team and in the choir.

It was here, in my church, where I met George*, a 35-year-old divorced man who played the guitar and had an amazing singing voice.  He had also just moved into town, and the church was very excited to have someone with his talents around; there were his obvious musical abilities, but he also had been a pastor.  His credentials had been revoked when his marriage dissolved, but really, he was a pastor except for that ‘technicality’ of having no credentials.  He very soon was handed the high teen Sunday school class.  He was exceptionally charismatic and charming, and all the single women his age were throwing themselves at his feet.  Curiously, he was more interested in hanging around with me – a naïve 19-year-old girl who had a hole in her heart big enough to drive a truck through – that was desperately looking for the love, acceptance, and approval that she never really had growing up.  He saw that neon ‘needy’ sign on my forehead and he instigated a friendship with me.  The initial point of contact was music; as mentioned George played the guitar and had a beautiful voice, and I play the piano and sing as well, but nothing like him.  There were many MANY opportunities to be alone together in this context, and soon we were quite a team when it came to special music at church.  From this platform developed a close, intimate friendship where we could talk about anything, and where he was at first in a ‘big brother-helper’ kind of role.  Right from the beginning it was inappropriate, but I didn’t (couldn’t) recognize that.  He would confide in me about his pain over his failed marriage, and not being able to see his boys, and also would share how frustrated he was sexually.  He made no attempts to hide the fact that he was very attracted to me, and would express it often.  Every conversation was laced with sexual innuendo and flirting, and he took wicked pleasure in making me blush.  I initially sought him out because of how special he made me feel; he would smile a smile that would light up the room when he saw me, and was so caring.  He bathed me in compliments, and it was like a cool refreshing rain to a parched desert.  Soon we were together an awful lot, and he was the one pushing it further and further on an intimacy level.  He always knew where I was staying, and would just show up late at night, parking a few blocks away and walking to avoid detection.  I never invited him – but I never told him not to come either, nor did I send him away.  As things progressed, he was always the initiator/instigator of any physical contact and I would basically not react; I was frozen.  He became the pursuer – and I was powerless.  I didn’t like the direction things always ended up going in, but I didn’t even know what to say, let alone how to say it.  I didn’t want to reject him, because there was way too much at stake; I was a gaping pit of emotional starvation for attention, and I could not lose him.  His manipulation was pretty complete; not much was off limits with him.  George said that a previous boyfriend should've raped me, because then "I wouldn't be so 'hung up' sexually”.  Based on this I fully expected to be raped by him at some point - but thankfully, that never happened.

My living situation changed and I got a roommate, which had a significant effect on things.  I just remember things getting awkward, and as he was basically homeless and I no longer was accessible, well – there was really nothing there.  After being in my life for about 18 months, he just moved away.  I don’t really know why, because we never talked about it.  Perhaps he felt I chose a roommate over him?  Regardless, he just withdrew his affection and left.  After a couple of months he moved way up north somewhere, and in the last real conversation we had he told me that if I moved up there we could live together, but he wouldn't marry me – supposedly because he thought I could do better.  That prospect was unappealing, and so that was it.

Looking back, I see things SO much differently.  He really was a deadbeat; he went from place to place housesitting or staying in someone’s empty room – taking advantage of the caring and generosity of the congregation.  He had very few real-world skills so could only find odd-job type work and never had a lot of money.  He really couldn’t relate to women on any other level except sexually; he was often flirtatious with married women.

At one point, two friends of mine in the church made a complaint to the pastor about George.  (More about that here.)  One knew quite well that he was being inappropriate with me, and he only knew the half of it.  They told the pastor that George was (in my friend’s words) a wolf in sheep's clothing.  I don't know specifically what they discussed, but there was never any follow-up on it that I was aware of, and no questions were asked of me.  Our “relationship” was a secret; we never talked about it, but it was understood that other people wouldn’t ‘get it’ so we needed to not act like we were a couple.  All that secrecy added to the guilt, shame, and confusion that I felt.

I have no idea where he is, if he’s alive or dead, or if he has ever been brought to justice for being a predator.  I would be very surprised if I am the only one that he abused.  I know that the police charged him with molesting a stepdaughter four or five years later (he remarried a few years after he moved away), but he was not convicted.  I have not filed any kind of official complaint, and don’t even know where to start to do that – or if I wish to.

I eventually came to refer to this experience as me having been in ‘an inappropriate relationship with a man 17 years older than me’, and I carried a measure of shame and embarrassment over this for 25 years.  It was not until relatively recently that I realized that I had not been ‘in an inappropriate relationship’ with a man 17 years older than me – I was abused by my Sunday school teacher at my church.  He sought out the most vulnerable, emotionally needy person that he could find, and he used his position of authority, trust, and endorsement by the church to manipulate me and to exploit my emotional vulnerability.  Because of the age difference, his position of power, and my neediness, it was not at all a relationship of equals.  When God opened my eyes and I saw this man's deliberate exploitation and my deep brokenness, I was completely undone.

* - not his real name

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