I’m a survivor and a psychotherapist. I know what’s causing abusive leadership in the church

I was sitting in a lecture at the University of Oxford when the the chair of the Church of England’s Clergy Disciplinary Commission addressed the room: “The church disciplinary list is looking more and more like my Christmas card list!” they said. As somebody preparing to join the priesthood, this wasn’t what I was hoping or expecting to hear. Most of the clergy being disciplined had committed sexual or financial offences. Once ordained, would I too find myself committing similar transgressions?

In the two decades since that wonderful day in St Paul’s Cathedral, when my sponsors walked me down the aisle and hands were laid upon my head, I have experienced and heard of things in churches that I really wish I hadn’t. 

How do these terrible things happen? 

How does a vicar smile at his congregation on a Sunday after physically and verbally abusing his wife the night before at home? How can an evangelist preach the gospel and then deliberately push his finger in and out of my mouth during a time of ‘prayer ministry’? How could a bishop justify gripping my hand behind my back and stroking my palm with his thumb while chatting amiably to my husband? Or the leader of a large, successful church rationalise running his fingers along my bra and panty line, while also engaging in meaningful, Christian conversation with my husband? I tried to move away from him, but he moved with me until I was forced to remove myself altogether. 

A few years after that last incident, I was speaking at a conference hosted by that same vicar’s church. During a time of ministry, a woman on the team fixed me with a gaze I could not read. In my own insecurity, I thought perhaps she didn’t think I deserved to be speaking at the event, as I was an outsider – not one of the ‘in’ crowd. But not long after, an affair between the vicar and this woman was uncovered, which sent huge shockwaves through the Church. I realised then that maybe there were others who had been on the receiving end of his abusive behaviour, and that her gaze may have been a plea for help. Sadly, I was too insecure to understand it, and far too riddled with self-doubt to be of any use to her. I have tried to make contact with her since, but without success. I’ve often wondered what would have happened if I had just asked her why she was looking at me that way. 

In frustration, I have also often wondered why I did not call these men out on their behaviour. Why I did not pursue it with their wives, their chaplain or their ministry team? Being that much older now, I would have no hesitation in speaking out. But back then, I didn’t have the self-confidence to challenge such powerful people. Who was I? Who would believe me? Would people just think I had imagined it, or had asked for it in some way? Or would I be written off as just another hysterical woman? 

Root causes

Back at the lecture in Oxford, it was suggested that narcissism may be at the root of the woeful disciplinary list and the well-publicised scandals that had come to light over the years. To that end, ordination selection questions had begun to be revised in hopes of weeding out narcissists drawn to the role of priest. It is easy to see why such a position would appeal to someone who wants little accountability and a lot of power, control and attention.

The Church has created an environment in which damaged leaders damage those they have been called to serve

Narcissistic tendencies may lie at the root of a variety of sexual abuses, financial misconduct, addictions and anger management issues. Trauma may also lie at the root of these symptoms, as well as others, such as erratic behaviour, dysfunction and self-medication. We need to understand that there is help for both conditions.

Narcissism 

It may be too easy to label the men who abused me as narcissists. Based on my studies and experience of running a psychotherapy practice, I would say there are very few people who have narcissistic personality disorder, but many who display some narcissistic behaviours.

Narcissistic personality disorder is defined as a mental health condition in which people have an unreasonably high sense of their own importance. They seek too much attention, desire admiration from people and lack the ability to understand or care about the feelings of others. But behind this mask of extreme confidence, they are unsure of their self-worth and are easily upset by criticism. It affects more males than females, and it often begins in the teens or early adulthood. 

The root cause is not fully understood but is likely to be a combination of a complex interaction between genetics, early childhood experiences – particularly parenting styles that involve excessive praise or criticism – and potential trauma or neglect, which can lead to a distorted sense of self-importance and an excessive need for admiration in adulthood.

Let’s take Carl Lentz as a case in point. His role leading the New York City branch of Hillsong Church came to an abrupt end when Brian Houston, the founder and global leader of Hillsong, accused him of severe breaches of trust, moral failure and exhibiting “narcissistic behaviour”. Following the termination of Lentz’s employment, he began treatment for his mental health, seeking help at an outpatient facility specialising in depression, anxiety and pastoral burnout.

In an Instagram post, Lentz confirmed that he had been unfaithful in his marriage and that he took “full responsibility” for his actions. Less than two weeks later, a woman named Ranin Karim came forward, alleging to be the woman with whom Lentz had had an affair. In an interview with Vanity Fair, she alleged that she had tried to end the relationship multiple times over the course of their five-month affair, but Lentz continued to pursue her. She said she wished she had never met him.

While never an excuse for wrong behaviour, trauma can be at the root of narcissistic behaviour

In May 2021, the couple’s former nanny, Leona Kimes, also accused Lentz of sexual and emotional abuse. “While he never had intercourse with me and never kissed me, I was physically violated by his unwanted and repeated sexual touching of my intimate areas. I froze. Every time, I froze,” she said. She was fired in 2017. “I was told that if his reputation was ruined, my reputation would be, too”, Kimes wrote in a post on Medium. While Lentz admitted to an affair with Kimes, he denied accusations of abuse as “categorically false”. 

It later emerged that Lentz had been sexually abused as a child. And when the couple spoke on Lentz’s own podcast, ‘Lights On with Carl Lentz’, Laura Lentz said that following the affair, her husband worked with a therapist to deal with his childhood trauma and that she’d watched Lentz “break down like I’d never seen him break down”. Carl’s view on the affair was that it entailed: “mutual adult decisions made by two people who lied profusely, mainly to my wife. It’s an issue because I was a boss, this person was an employee. I’m responsible for that power dynamic and the management of it and the wisdom that goes with it, and I failed absolutely miserably.”

Is Lentz a narcissist, or a survivor of childhood abuse? Or both? 

Is it trauma?

While never an excuse for wrong behaviour, trauma can be at the root of narcissistic behaviour. More commonly, the symptoms of trauma are chaotic and can destabilise even the most moral, well-rounded person. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that’s caused by an extremely stressful or terrifying event – either being part of it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares, severe anxiety, depression, sleeplessness, uncontrollable thoughts and changes in behaviour, such as addiction.

Most people who go through traumatic events may find it difficult to cope for a short while, but with time and good therapy, by taking good care of themselves and learning to calm their nervous system, they usually get better. If the symptoms get worse, last for months or years, and affect their ability to function daily, they may have PTSD or complex PTSD. We can be sure that trauma will limit their ability to get their needs met appropriately, which can lead to disfunction. 

If people are helped to get their needs met appropriately, the symptoms will likely abate. But it’s hard to convince someone whose needs are being met inappropriately through narcissistic behaviours to see their need for change. It often takes their moral failures to come to light before they will bow their head and do the work necessary for their recovery.

In my psychotherapy practice, I specialise in the treatment of trauma. I work for charities who serve veterans and first responders. It’s a privilege to be able to reduce the symptoms of trauma, enabling people to begin to get their lives back. I have often thought I’d like to run trauma workshops for clergy who were sent to boarding school at the age of five or six, often suffering neglect, bullying and the absence of that focused, unconditional attention that only a loving parent or caregiver can give. 

In a recent interview with Premier Christianity, the evangelist Rico Tice said: “The disaster with Christian leaders is when they aren’t self-aware. They don’t know what their wounds are. I think that’s what has worried me more about some of these boarding school boys who are in Christian leadership – I think they have the view that ‘real men don’t get help’. That’s a problem. We’re all broken. You just have to be self-aware, otherwise these things come out in other ways, and that can be toxic.”

He went on to say: “I’m very grateful for my parents, as they were trying to do the best for me. But I went to boarding at eight years old, and of course, if you’re bullied, you can’t run and hide. So, you emotionally shut down. You realise that love is conditional in that environment. You’re only loved if you succeed. So, three things were put down in my subconscious: ‘Tice, you’re not good enough. Prove yourself. It’s a dangerous world.’”

Thankfully Tice later found the right help to enable him to break these subconscious patterns but, as he says, sadly there are many who do not. Just look at Iwerne Trust’s John Smyth and David Fletcher. Both were accused of physically abusing boys from elite private boarding schools at Christian-run holiday camps, with the safeguarding failure around the former culminating in the resignation of Most Rev Justin Welby, the former Archbishop of Canterbury. I can remember meeting young men from Iwerne at youth events and always felt sorry for them – they seemed so trapped, so stilted and stunted. I, of course, was invisible to them, being a female Christian leader. 

Walking free

We leaders need to be accountable. Part of that means being open to identifying narcissistic patterns of behaviour and/or symptoms of trauma and being willing to do the work necessary to find healing and wholeness. This means equipping ourselves for the role of ministry and safeguarding both vulnerable people in our care and ultimately ourselves from potential moral failure.

It can be incredibly hard for survivors of abuse to come forward. It’s also hard in many church cultures to hold leaders to account, remove them from office, bring them to justice and/or enable them to get the right help. We need more people like the boy in Hans Christian Andersen’s The Emperor’s New Clothes, who innocently and candidly points out the truth, breaking though the defences of power and hierarchy. I salute those who have come forward and told their stories. I know how frightening that can be, but it is the only way to bring moral disorder into the light and break the patterns of failure and abuse.

I didn’t have the self-confidence to challenge such powerful people. Would people just think I had imagined it, or had asked for it in some way?

As for leaders who have suffered trauma, I am reminded of Rev Julie Nicholson, who courageously resigned from her role as priest at two churches in Bristol after her 24-year-old daughter died in the 7/7 terrorist bombing at Edgware Road Station, London. Rev Julie had done nothing wrong, and her bishop pleaded with her not to resign. But her integrity led her to withdraw from ministry and to wander through the wilderness. She recognised she needed to work through her trauma before she could go back to helping others. We need to understand and applaud such choices. Isaiah 42:3 says: “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out.” 

We, the Church – and I very much include myself in this – have created an environment in which damaged leaders damage those they have been called to serve, and we need to stop that. We need to trust our intuition, our gut instincts, and speak out. It could involve legal proceedings and possibly imprisonment, or requiring a leader to take time out – for however long it takes. They might need to find employment in a job that has nothing to do with ministry, go for therapy or enlist the help of a spiritual director. It’s hard, but it could be the making of them. We need to stop doubting ourselves, as I and many in The Emperor’s New Clothes have done in the past, and speak the truth.

Otherwise, the charade will only go on.  

If you’ve been affected by the issues raised in this article and would like to talk to a Christian who can offer emotional and spiritual support, call Premier Lifeline: the National Christian Helpline on 0300 111 0101. Lines are open 9am-5pm Monday to Friday