To Reconcile or Not to Reconcile. That is Not the Only Question.

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

A few years ago, I was desperate to feel safe.

So, I traveled with my three exhausted kids ages 5, 8, and 10 from Indonesia to Idaho on four cramped airplane flights totaling 24 hours. My husband wasn’t with me.

Brad was a base manager and sole pilot at an understaffed Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF) float plane base that provided critical medevacs to remote Indonesian jungle communities. He stayed behind for a couple weeks to finish his commitments.

I was buckling from the effects of trauma—my husband’s airplane crash, my son’s close-to-death illness, an evacuation, and a sudden death of a coworker in Brad’s arms. I was also muddling through a relentless faith crisis and a disturbing dynamic with two pastors from whom I’d sought help. So, I decided to go where I thought I could find safety—MAF’s headquarters in Idaho. 

I spent the next two weeks resting in a place I felt secure. I talked to a compassionate counselor skilled to help with trauma. I shared meals with people I love. And I introduced my disoriented missionary kids to the staff and leaders of an organization that gave them a sense of home. We later visited friends and family, and refreshed, we returned to Indonesia.

But I have never gone back to MAF’s headquarters.

That’s because soon after, we entered a process of internal whistleblowing. We leaned on MAF’s policies, procedures, and leaders. But leaders’ broken responses ultimately shattered my sense of safety in, trust for, and connection to an organization we’d valued more than our own lives.

So, if given the chance, should we reconcile with MAF leaders?

That was a matter on the table after MAF and Telios Law offered a Christian mediation process for our whistleblower group. (I document my many concerns with Telios’s investigation and practices here.) It’s also the subject of a recent statement Brad and I researched and wrote that we asked MAF to send to current MAF staff, a request they ignored.

Do I want to reconcile? I’d love to see enough change from MAF to have my trust renewed that others will be safe. I’d appreciate the chance to witness consistent contrition where I believe there has been doubling down. And I long for connection restored in place of feeling exiled. And if I could do that without retraumatization, and with my voice, agency, and dignity respected? Yes, absolutely. Yes, please.

But is that likely to happen when MAF’s response to my heartfelt plea for change has been met with blocking me from social media?  Is it wise to trust when the MAF board has been silent about our unresolved aviation safety concerns? Also, our MAF boss previously put my husband and I through a conflict resolution meeting, in which, as a condition to keep our jobs there, he required us to apologize for raising concerns. Is a confidential mediation process with MAF the right tool to even try right now?

Many Christian conciliation services offer mediation to resolve conflict in a way that they believe aligns with biblical principles. They offer neutral, outside eyes and guidance toward greater understanding, empathy, connection, and peace.

But in 2018, Wade Mullen, author of “Something’s Not Right,” raised concerns about mediation on Twitter, stating that mediation could be used to “maintain or restore a leader’s power.”

A 2021 Christianity Today article concluded a leading Christian conciliator’s poor practices arguably worsened one of evangelical Christianity’s worst scandals—the allegations of Ravi Zacharias’ abuse of women. Christian conciliator Ken Sande, who investigated the situation, wrote about the need for a reassessment of Christian conciliation. But has enough change happened in this field in the last few years for whistleblowers to trust it?

For my job as an investigative journalist, I’ve heard about mediation meetings gone wrong. A rape survivor told me her Christian leader pushed her to apologize to her rapist. A bullying victim said her boss required her to follow verses in Matthew 18 to confront her bully alone for the purpose of reconciling. But she believed the correct course was for the organization to investigate and require accountability for the abuser, which never happened.

I’ve spent the last few weeks researching this topic, hoping to find a healthy, informed way through this part of my own whistleblowing journey. I’ve come to the conclusion that the question of how to reconcile isn’t the only question for traumatized and retraumatized whistleblowers and survivors of abuse. We must also ask:

1. What does the fine print say (and mean)?

   I called several Christian conciliators on MAF’s list of possible mediators and I noticed a wide spectrum of understanding of power dynamics, requirements for confidentiality, and definition of biblical reconciliation. What could this mean for what mediation could resolve, or perhaps, cost you?

   Could you be required to sign a confidentiality or nondisclosure agreement (NDA) to enter into the reconciliation process? How extensive would this be?

   Does the Christian mediator hold a stance that involving courts is unbiblical, even though many victims (who are also Christians) argue that a civil lawsuit is one important way to hold abusers accountable when organizations fail to do so?

   To be hired at your job, did you have to sign an agreement with your Christian employer that requires you to go through mediation for disputes and waives your right to sue? How informed was your consent? And is this requirement ethical given the power dynamics? (Attorney Theresa Sidebotham, who conducted the problematic MAF investigation, recommends this controversial practice to Christian organizations. However, abuse expert Wade Mullen has spoken out about his concerns with this practice. Similarly, leading Christian mediator Ken Sande has recently publicly reversed his previous stance due to its misuse.)

   What if the mediator has a guideline that says all parties have to be willing to submit to church involvement if the mediator deems a party is not cooperative? Church discipline could give some teeth for an offender’s accountability. But since whistleblowers often face unfounded accusations of “sowing discord” or failing to submit to leaders, could a victim or whistleblower be subjected to church discipline for simply trying to report abuse?

   Mediator Peter John Louie told me he’s observed many Christian conciliators promoting better accountability and growth for how they recognize abuse with a “desire to not further oppression.” Peter is an attorney and Christian conciliator who writes about abuse and power dynamics. He has observed the misuse of peacemaking by those in power to control and silence victims and maintain a false narrative.

   So, if you decide to enter into mediation, it’s important to ask for the conciliator’s guidelines and grievance policy and to pick a conciliator that is subject to discipline, Peter said.

   Also, giving the voiceless a voice should be a primary concern of a good mediator, Peter said. Power can manifest in many ways—financially, mentally, positionally, for example. So, mediators need to use wisdom to watch for power imbalances, he said.

   “How do I help be mindful of power imbalances to give people that don’t have a voice the opportunity to be heard?” he said.

2. Is abuse present?

   Christian mediation is a good tool for resolving conflicts, disputes, and differing perspectives between parties of similar standing, said Stephen Parsons, a British Anglican pastor who was trained in mediation by Bridge Builders, a Mennonite mediation organization.

   “Mediation is about two more or less misunderstood parties in an organization coming to a bit more insight about how they seem and how they appear to the other side,” Stephen told me in an interview.

   Stephen’s book “Ungodly Fear,” which he published 24 years ago, pioneered the topic of church abuse. On his site Surviving Church, he addresses the proper use of Christian mediation—and its limitations in cases of abuse.

   After talking with several mediators and examining their websites, I’ve noticed differing views among mediators over whether they believe mediation is an appropriate tool to reconcile an abuser with the abused. Stephen is against it.

   “If one side is an innocent victim and the other is a crafty perpetrator, then it doesn’t make any sense,” he told me. For example, “You can’t mediate between an unrepentant pedophile and a child who has been abused.”

   Peter Louie told me he also doesn’t think mediation is a good tool for abuse situations, especially if the offender isn’t repentant and if the victim doesn’t want to risk re-traumatization. Another word of caution, Peter said, is that abuse itself can be difficult for an inexperienced mediator to detect in a so-called conflict situation. For instance, sometimes an abuser looks like the calm, reasonable person, while the traumatized victim is (understandably) emotional, coming across less credible, Peter said.

   “Abuse is very tricky and thrives in secrecy and deception and I could easily take the wrong side,” Peter said.

   Abusers also often use DARVO—Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender, to play the victim. Abuse is also not always one single event, but a pattern of relating with deception at its core that favors the abuser while putting a victim at risk, writes Tom Pryde of Psalm 82 Initiative. Those who intervene need to understand abuse dynamics or they’ll risk adding to the victims’ harm, Tom writes.

   “(T)he potential for doing more harm than good is quite real,” Tom writes.

3. Has truth been named?

   Sorrow is feigned,

   confession is partial,

   forgiveness is exploited,

   restitution is an afterthought,

   and reconciliation is an illusion,

   as long as truth remains unnamed.

   -Wade Mullen

   Offenders are very likely to deny the harm they’ve caused and use self-justification to explain it away, Stephen Parsons told me.

   “The perpetrator doesn’t want to face up to the fact that they’ve taken advantage of the weaker person,” Stephen said. “It’s easy to pretend that someone asked for it, wanted it, colluded in it. They can’t actually see the power dynamic.”

   On his site, BeReconciled, Peter Louie calls abusers who misuse Christian conciliation “peacefakers” and “peacebreakers.” They appear to be genuine peacemakers with their smooth words, but in reality they "weaponize" a peacemaking process to manipulate, exploit, and control others, Peter writes. 

   “Peacemaking is a useful tool to get people to avoid looking at the iceberg hidden beneath the surface,” Peter writes. “When an oppressor claims he has made peace or attempted to make peace, look to see if there is a trail of injured and silenced sheep.”

   

   This graphic is used with permission from its creator, Peter John Louie.

   An authority figure needs to get involved in naming the abuse and assigning discipline, Stephen Parsons writes. But all too often, rather than holding abusive members accountable, institutional authorities will cover up the situation, he writes.

   “When this reputation becomes more important than the attempt to promote good relationships at every level, then something has been compromised and even destroyed,” Stephen writes.

4. Does the mediation process misplace blame?

   Many Christian mediators use a “log and speck” idea in which Jesus instructs followers to take the log out of their own eye before pointing out the speck in someone else’s, writes Christian conciliator Daniel Teater.

   But this is the wrong tool for cases of abuse, Daniel writes, since it spreads out accountability for the abuse to all parties, including the victim.

   “(U)sing such an assignment or tool when abuse dynamics are present implicitly sends a message of mutuality for the abuse,” he writes.

   Rather, Daniel recommends that victims be given a chance to share an impact statement that the offender is taught to receive “without justification or excuses for the abusive behavior.”

   The offender should also get psychological help and not rely entirely on the victim to do the work of educating the abuser, Stephen Parsons told me.

   “That’s a pretty enormous burden on the victim and that’s not even fair,” Stephen said. “The victim deserves support and justice. Anything less than that will let the perpetrator off the hook.”

5. Does the reconciliation process include the community?

   Most survivors I’ve interviewed worry about the potential harm to their community if the abuse is not exposed. They believe the public must have the information, despite the risks whistleblowers face of retaliatory defamation suits, job loss, and false counter-accusations.

   But just as whistleblowers are trying to serve the community, the community may turn against them, writes psychiatrist Judith Lewis Herman in her book, “Truth and Repair.”

   “For those who are the most directly victimized, the complicity and silence of bystanders—friends, relatives, and neighbors, not to mention officials of the law—feel like a profound betrayal, for this is what isolates them and abandons them to their fates,” Judith writes. “What about all those who collude implicitly; the people who prefer not to know the truth or choose not to help, the people who say, ‘It’s none of my business,’ and those who are just looking out for themselves?”

   Institutional betrayal can give survivors an additional layer of PTSD, researchers Jennifer Freyd and Carly Parnitzke Smith found.¹

   So, shouldn’t reconciliation involve our communities rather than stay confined in small groups behind closed doors?

   “If trauma shames and isolates, then recovery must take place in the community,” Judith writes. “It is this reconciliation with the larger community that many survivors seek when they speak of justice.”

   (Disclaimer: This is my own personal opinion, intended as general information, and not meant to replace legal or psychological advice for your specific situation.)

1. Jennifer Freyd and Carly Parnitzke Smith, “Dangerous Safe Havens: Institutional Betrayal Exacerbates Sexual Trauma,” J Trauma Stress, 2013.