Bishop, Stake President Facilitate Husband’s Abuse of Wife and Children

READER POST: I was on my way to the high council room in our church building. My husband of four months was being called as the first counselor in the new bishopric, and each of the bishopric members were being set apart. I had been in that room many times as a stake primary president and the room held good memories of that time for me. But I knew our stake president would be leading the meeting. I didn’t hold good memories of my experiences with him. He was rough. He was the man who told me he’d revoke my temple recommend the minute I filed for divorce from my previous, abusive husband. So I didn’t. I stayed–for years–and the abuse continued. 

The abuse wasn’t only directed at me, not my now ex-husband’s physical abuse nor the stake president’s ecclesiastical abuse. Within a week of my teenage son being thrown across a room by his own father, landing so hard he blacked out, this stake president assured my son that he’d not receive a temple recommend or be allowed to serve a mission if he did not forgive his father in the several months between then and the time to send in his mission papers. In fact, this leader of my stake had told me that his own father had hit his mother and their children. Later in life, when his own mother finally got the nerve to leave her husband, this stake president had been in a position to revoke her temple recommend – and that’s exactly what he told me he did. So yes, when I say I was anxious about seeing this stake president with my new husband at my side, I had good reasons.

I thought I had prepared myself. I thought I could walk into that room of priesthood holders and their smiling families and get through it. It was my husband’s big day, and he deserved to enjoy it. Unfortunately, the reality of being there was harder than I expected.

As I entered and surveyed the high council room, panic began to rise. Not only was my stake president there, but sitting beside him was my former bishop, a man who’d been just as hard on me as this stake president. I quickly learned he was being called as the new executive secretary. I heard the door shut behind me. It was hot in there. Someone beckoned me toward an empty chair. Not far from me, these two men sat together, laughing, joking, and celebrating their priesthood and their callings and their importance together in front of their proud parents, children, and spouses. I felt sick. The room seemed to be getting smaller. I didn’t think I could keep holding back the tears. I just didn’t want those two men – men who had made my life miserable while knowing my children and I were being abused – to see me suffering again.

It had taken a lot of courage and desperation for me to approach the bishop about the abuse going on in my home. I wanted his spiritual guidance and to know what Heavenly Father wanted me to do. I don’t know what I wanted aside from safety for my kids and myself. He said he’d pray about my situation. Then later, he told me he had had a revelation that I was lying about the abuse. He told my kids he knew they were lying as well. 

He told me he would take away my temple recommend if I told anyone inside or outside of the ward, including the police. It felt like he was holding my salvation hostage. After all, faithful Latter-day Saints have temple recommends, they follow their leaders’ counsel, they never murmur… I felt confused.

Eventually, one of my children began dating the child of one of his counselors. My child’s friend convinced her father of the abuse. He eventually convinced the bishop, but it took two years. Even after this bishop told me he understood I wasn’t lying, he still promised he’d take away my recommend if I told anyone about the abuse because me doing that would be a burden on the ward as a whole. He didn’t want any of them to carry that weight. 

After the stake president quieted the room, he started the meeting. He referred to my former bishop several times, praising him for his service and assuring the incoming bishopric that his experience would be a great help to them as the new bishop’s executive secretary. 

How different this all felt from the meeting I had had with this stake president as soon as I realized my bishop wouldn’t believe or help me. I naively expected he would. That meeting was different because he said he believed that my children and I were being hit and terrorized, but he also told me he would support the bishop in spite of him not believing me. He said he would never intervene when he knew a bishop was making a mistake. He let them deal with their own consequences. (Make that make sense.) 

Before the setting apart began, the stake president asked my former bishop to share advice for the new bishop. The voice of my former bishop was being elevated, his former service celebrated right in front of me. Both of these men were facilitators of my abuse and the abuse of my children, and I had been so conditioned to accept their will as the will of the Lord that I had obeyed them. I had no support. I couldn’t even turn to my best, most trusted girlfriends because they were ward members. I was isolated, alone, abused, and confused. My conditioning as a Latter-day Saint was solid. I endured. 

As I sat in that meeting, I felt as if I were being made a part of a coverup. By my presence, I was colluding with them, making it seem like this man was to be honored, his advice seen as meaningful, and his priesthood discernment intact. 

For my husband, I made it through the meeting but was only a few steps out of the room before I started crying. I was bawling by the time we got to the car. I was swearing and screaming by the time we pulled out of the parking lot. I was shaking and sick. My poor husband had never seen me like this. I had grown children and I had never seen myself like this! This was new. I was embarrassed, but I couldn’t stop any of the complex emotions cutting through me. It was a terrifying trauma response. 

I’ll tell you exactly why I had such an intense and terrifying trauma response that day. It’s because no one will ever tell either of these men what they did wrong or hold them accountable for how it damaged my children and me. They will be celebrated as God-loving men while I work every day to recover from their actions. They will never apologize and there will never be an apology on their behalf. 

But I can talk about it now. And I will. Not because they believe me or because I have new leaders or a new husband. I have a new life, one I own. I can talk about it because I’ve learned the hard way to let no one stand between me and God.

~Lacey~

Lacey is a mother of young adults and enjoys hiking, pickleball and traveling. She works in education.

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