Keeley’s Story
The following account contains descriptions of physical and sexual abuse and may be triggering for many readers.
“Keeley” alleges that a CFC pastor and his wife pressured her into putting herself and her children in unsafe situations in order to protect the institution of marriage. "Keeley” alleges that the CFC leaders required her to prove the abuse for assistance but then declined to testify to the abuse in court, leaving her children at the mercy of an abusive father. “Keeley” further alleges that her pastor’s wife’s complete ignorance of domestic abuse dynamics left Keeley isolated and without support when she was in danger.
Day 1 of Freedom
He did it. He finally admitted it to someone, out loud, in the flesh.
My ex had physically abused me our entire relationship, but now he had moved to physically abusing our children. The mental abuse was worse, though. I was blindsided by his confession because I wasn't even sure if it really happened myself. He had told me I was crazy and changed the story so many times. I was beginning to wonder what was real and what was made up.
But on this day, other real, live humans heard him admit the truth.
"I don't know, pastor. I just get so angry sometimes that I can't stop myself from hitting her. And the kids just won't stop crying so I just have to make them shut up."
I just sat there like a deer in headlights. The jig was up. I didn't have to pretend we were the perfect couple anymore. I could be honest. We could get help… I could finally find peace.
The ex wasn't always bad. His abuse came in cycles. Three months of bliss, three months of terror.
The pastor took me aside while his wife offered to pray over my ex and the children. The pastor offered to get me to safety. Finally: a life preserver in the open ocean. I said, “Yes, please,” and he said he would be in contact with me soon. They left with, "We will be praying for you guys,” and everything felt like it was going to be okay.
Day 7
A text from the pastor read: “I just talked with your husband, give me a call so we can come up with a good plan for you guys.”
I had been looking at apartments to move into with my children. I had an appointment with the local Domestic Violence (DV) shelter to see what they offered for help. I told them, "Really, it's not that bad for me as it is for other women. I have a degree and a family who supports me. And I have the church." They allowed me to process my emotions and offered a grant for a lawyer, which seemed silly at the time.
I called the pastor.
“Oh. So you don't think I should leave with the kids?
Yeah, no, I agree. I really do not want to get divorced but this behavior is not new, it's been like this since we met 10 years ago.
No, you're right he didn't have the church then, maybe it will be different.”
Day 14
We continued to see our marriage counselor and the pastor and his wife every week. We would start off together, separate for private discussion, and then come back together.
I don't know what happened in the private meetings with my ex and the pastor but for the moment he was extra nice and helpful at home.
The pastor's wife was encouraging. She commended my bravery, helped me with homeschooling, and always said that my safety and the safety of the children was the most important.
I remember her asking me if I was giving him enough attention in the bedroom.
"You know, if they are not satisfied there that frustration can spill into other areas of life."
I explained how he had held me down and raped me on multiple occasions causing bleeding and bruising, and that I had decided that past summer that I was not going to even sleep in the same room as him until he proved he could control himself.
Corinthians 7:1-5
The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. Do not deprive one another, except perhaps by agreement for a limited time, that you may devote yourselves to prayer; but then come together again, so that Satan may not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.
I explained how I felt I was following this verse and trying to find the sacredness of sex with my husband again while also ensuring my safety.
I admitted that maybe with the help of the church he will stop the drugs and alcohol and be able to control himself sexually.
She was encouraging and said that was probably wise for now but that she would speak to her husband about it.
Day 21
In our next meeting together, they said that we needed to find a way to be intimate together again. Safely, of course. Maybe I should take the lead and he should follow so that I feel safe.
We tried. I thought light kissing would be a good start. He started to put his hand down my pants. I asked him to stop. He wouldn't and raped me again.
After he was done he rolled over and fell asleep as I sobbed. I took a hot shower and collapsed on the floor crying out to God. Why does he do this if he loves me? And God replied: that's not love, my daughter. You will know love in your future, but this is not it.
This would be my anthem for years to come: "That's not love.”
Day 22
He apologized the following day. He just didn't have control. It had just been too long. I told him we were going to pause again because that could not happen again. I was terrified that he had gotten me pregnant. I prayed that no seed would take hold.
Day 30
He brought me on a surprise date. A hike! I love hiking and he had been so nice the last week that I was very excited.
I enjoyed each sound and new plant, each bug and twist in the trail. He seemed to be calmly enjoying himself too. We finally made it to the waterfall and I held his hand and tried to kiss him. It was awkward. His face dropped.
"I can't keep doing this. I just don't love you anymore. And I'm sick of pretending."
My heart shattered. Deep, heaving sobs left my body. It was a truth I knew all along but one that he would never admit.
That's not love.
He sat and stared into space as I sobbed. After I stopped crying, he wanted to come up with a plan. We sat on a log and decided I would still move out but wait until after the summer ended because of birthdays and family traditions. The kids would be with me but he would continue to have dinner every night he was off work. He would keep the house since it was closer to his job. He would give me some money every other week. We didn't need to involve lawyers or anything like that.
We walked away agreeing to be friends. To keep a smile on for the kids.
Day 37
We told the pastor and his wife of our plan. They tried to convince him to stay and to work on things with me. He refused and reiterated that he doesn't love me anymore.
More tears flowed from deep within me. Years of abuse rolled down my cheeks. Years of perseverance, of shame, of sadness, of love. The ache for my children to have a broken home. The ache to be a woman of divorce. The ache to see the man I had loved for so many years battle with addiction and loss. I became undone.
They said they would be there for me. They said that I wasn't alone.
Day 50
Things had been going relatively smoothly. We had a schedule at the house and separate bedrooms. One weekend a month I would go stay with my parents so he could have his turn with the kids. I worked about 10 hours a week and if he wasn't working he would watch them so we didn’t have to pay a babysitter. We mostly just stayed out of each other’s way and I continued to save money for my new place.
We were on our way to church and began to argue. I don't even remember what it was about. I just remember him screaming at me while I worked hard not to give a reaction. He started squeezing my leg as I sat in the passenger seat so hard I thought the bone would break. I started screaming and crying and the kids did too because they were scared. He told me I was a bad mother. Then he put on a cheery smile as we pulled into the church parking lot. I took a minute to calm the kids and put on a brave face.
"One of those mornings eh?" an usher called out.
There was a charismatic pastor from a different church visiting and when he made the call for anyone to be saved my ex raised his hand. I was shocked. With some push he was brought up to the front of the church with a few others and said the sinner's prayer. Everyone congratulated him and me.
The pastor's wife came up to me. “Hallelujah, all your problems are fixed now. Thank you Jesus!"
We got into the car and he said, "Well, that was embarrassing. I didn't know what he was talking about so I just raised my hand because other people did too.”
People continued to call for a week and send gifts and cards to congratulate him on being saved.
They didn't know it was a lie because they didn't know us. That's not love.
Day 60
The arguing got worse and worse as the days went on. He threw a mason jar at me and hit me in the shoulder and it shattered on the ground. I begged him to stop and our toddler wandered over to me and cut her foot on the glass.
"Did you get glass in your foot too, Momma, or is your heart just hurting some more?"
She knew. She wasn't safe here anymore. There is no such thing as staying together for the kids if the kids are being hurt.
That's not love.
Day 65
We had family over for a holiday gathering. I refused to allow my ex to be alone with the children for their safety. I was moving into our new place next week and I was just holding my breath until then. He offered to put the children down for a nap while I made the meal for our guests who were soon to arrive. I hesitated but he promised he would come to get me if he needed help or felt frustrated.
I relented and set to work going to the stairs to listen for crying every few minutes. All seemed well.
His family started arriving and the children finally woke up from their naps. As I changed the baby's diaper, I noticed bruising all down his ribs and a handprint on his thigh. His family saw it too. My ex said he slipped in the bath. As soon as he left for work that evening I called the DV shelter. They told me I could call the police but I was too scared.
Day 66
I called my pastor and told him what happened. He asked how he could help get me to safety. I told him I had my first and last month's rent but I did not have the security deposit. He said that he would check with the church and see if they could cover the $700 I needed to get into my new place.
He called back and said that the church would love to cover this financial burden for me but that it needed to be approved by another deacon and that they wanted to see and talk to me before it was approved.
Later that day the pastor and his wife came to pick me up since I didn't have a vehicle and bring me to the deacon’s house. The deacon had me go into a side room with him and my 1-year-old and asked me to remove my child's clothing so that he could see the bruising on my child. He placed his hand around the bruises and it was a perfect match.
He said, “This is so unfortunate. It’s definitely a handprint. I'm so sorry you're going through this.”
At the time I didn't even realize how strange it was that I needed to prove that my children and I were abused. I didn't realize how strange it was that when I offered to show him the bruising on my lower hips and waist, he did not want to see them.
Day 67
I rented a U-Haul while my ex was at work and tried to empty the contents of my house as fast as I could. I asked for help from the pastor and his wife and from the church members and one of the husbands showed up to help me load the U-Haul without question. I was thinking of how strange it must have seemed.
I could only afford the smallest U-Haul, so I carefully chose what treasure I needed from each room and what I needed to say goodbye to. I wrote a note to my ex explaining that the apartment had opened up a few days early and I would be back to get the rest of my stuff next week knowing full well that I might not be allowed to.
I slept with the children in my bed that night. And breathed a deep sigh of relief that I was finally free.
Day 68
I woke up to find that my phone was not working. I loaded the kids up and went to the phone shop and they said that my phone had been shut off and I wasn’t an authorized user on the account. I replied, “Okay, I’ll just buy a new phone.” The swipe of my card was hit with a denied transaction. I went to the bank and found that it was empty. All that I had to live on was $1,000 of hidden cash that I had strategically placed between the pages of random books on the bookshelf.
I went to the DV shelter and they told me to go to the lawyer’s office and file an order of protection. I was still scared to call the police because if my ex lost his job and income that meant I also lost income since he had forced me to quit my job.
I stayed at my parents’ house so that I could use their WiFi and have a method of communication. The pastor's wife tried to reach out to get together. I told her that my ex had shut my phone off and taken all my money out of my account. She said that she was busy and we could get together another time.
I was so surprised and dejected that she kept pushing me off. I was hurting and alone, not to mention in danger. I thought that the church would be there for me. I thought that she, as my mentor, would be there for me.
But she ignored the red flags. She didn’t even respond to my message that my ex had cut off my main access to communication and taken the money I needed to feed my children.
That’s not love.
Day 72
I called my pastor to ask if he would be a witness for my court date for the order of protection. He said he would rather not get involved.
My ex was allowed to see my children daily as long as he wasn't alone with them since my pastor declined to provide "proof" of abuse.
Day 75
I asked my pastor if he or someone else could be with me during visitation because I was scared and still had no phone. They said they would look into it and get back to me.
They didn't.
That's not love.
Day 80
I pulled up to my new apartment five minutes late for visitation from getting groceries with all the children. His car was already there. He was inside.
I told him if he went into my house again without me present I would call the police. He held me up against the door by my throat.
There was no proof. There was no witness.
That's not love.
Day 85
I tried to see the pastor's wife but couldn't find a ride. It had been a month since I last saw her. Nothing was going right and I needed support. She rescheduled again.
That's not love.
Day 1,825
I am still fighting my abuser in court. The church excommunicated me and told me that I was nothing without them when I spoke out against the controlling environment. I lost everything - family, friends, childcare, and jobs -but I never lost Jesus.
The next chapter of my life is still beautiful. I am so happy I got out. If it weren't for my abuser adamantly saying he hated me and wanted out of the marriage, I'm not sure the church would have allowed me to leave. I am grateful to know authentic love as God intended. I am grateful to know Jesus. His promises for my life are true. I am everything that God intended me to be without the church. I am love and light and the daughter of the one true King.
Words of Advice:
My ex forced me to quit my job to be a stay-at-home mom and then took away my money and my phone. Abusive churches isolate people for the same reasons that abusers isolate their victims—to make vulnerable people dependent and therefore, compliant. Don't let the church be your one and only.
Seek outside professionals: domestic violence shelters/advocates, counselors, etc. Use the resources they provide as well as the resources they put you in touch with. Demand credible documentation of your abuse at every opportunity. Ask for a consultation with a lawyer—consultations are usually free.
Call the police — not CPS — no matter how scared you are. Demand that they too document the abuse. It is the only documentation that will hold up in court and protect you and your children.
Don’t give up hope. There is life on the other side of abuse. Jesus loves you and wants to see you whole.
