When Spiritual Authority Becomes Manipulative
Imagine… You’re in a bustling restaurant kitchen on grand opening night.
Orders are coming in. The chefs are calling out instructions. Waitstaff are weaving through tight aisles. In the midst of the chaos, the head chef calmly places a live frog into a pot of tepid water and sets it on low heat. The rush of urgency rises and falls with each swing of the kitchen door. The head chef increases the heat, ever so slightly. Cooks are swiftly chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, as the boils begins to rise. The frog remains still inside the pot, beneath the steam, fully cooked. Time is up!
You are the frog. So, why didn’t you jump out to safety?
This isn’t a biology lesson. It’s a metaphor.
While this series isn’t going to be about a fancy, new restaurant for us to explore, or a poor old frog, but this popular idiom does apply. The legend goes that a frog placed in boiling water will leap to safety, but if its placed in cool water that heats up gradually, it will not perceive the danger until it is overcome. The metaphor is often used to illustrate how people fail to recognize threats that arise slowly, rather than suddenly. Sadly, these are the kinds of threats that occur within the church.
In the church, the heat is rarely turned up all at once.
Boundaries are crossed gradually.
“Godly” advice becomes coercion.
Trust is eroded inch by inch.
By the time we realize the danger or feel its impact, the damage may already be done.
You’re My Best Friend.
The erosion of my boundaries at my last church didn’t happen overnight.
Like the frog metaphor, it unfolded slowly, under the guise of pastoral counseling and what my Pastor later referred to as “our long talks.”
The potential catalyst? My crush on his reserved, younger brother — a confession that I first shared with my Pastor’s wife, then sought their advice on it jointly.
These long conversations were often in isolation and gradually unprompted. It went from an appointment-like discussion about the brother, to impromptu deep conversations around the church. I could be tucked away with my journal and Bible, or organizing membership info cards in the upstairs library during volunteer hours. I could be heading out the door with fellow church friends, or carrying heavy items to my car. At times, these ‘talks’ were initiated by his follow-ups via text message if I appeared distressed during Sunday service or at Women’s Fellowship, led by both his wife and his mother-in-law. Eventually, he sent a funny meme via Instagram direct message to me.
Initially, his behavior presented itself as harmless. After all, I was disheartened about a wishful crush, trying to shake off the embarrassment and take my Pastor’s advice: “he’s not the right guy for you.” In that context, my Pastor’s outreach aligned with what I had been taught ”good pastors” do as an extension of pastoral care and check-ins with the flock. I viewed this church as a spiritual family, enjoying annual church picnics, game nights, birthday parties or BBQs hosted by him and his wife. It felt like a community that I could be a part of and contribute to for a lifetime, like his grandmother-in-law. I imagined growing older, serving in the church, and stewarding the life that I prayed for so heavily while living alone during the pandemic.
But, while in an emotional state, these “long talks” left me feeling more vulnerable, increasingly reliant on his biblical guidance, and dismissive of my own instincts. While I was trusting his counsel, I didn’t realize that my boundaries were being chipped away, or that his one-on-one’s with me already violated church protocol.
Can You Keep A Secret?
The moment of no-return came one morning, when he walked into the church office that my dog and I were settled in. Looking disheveled and ruffling his hair in apparent stress, he burst out, “I’ve been having these thoughts” then confessed to having developed romantic feelings for me. His confession was a burden he placed in my hands to keep in confidence. Otherwise, if I told anyone, he warned it would jeopardize his pastoral job, his marriage, and my friendship with his wife.
Did I have any attraction or romantic feelings for my Pastor?
Short answer: no.
But being positioned to absorb his wrongdoing wasn’t about my willingness. It was the result of a church culture that conditioned congregants to prioritize a leader’s reputation over their own well-being. More on that in a future post.
His confession—as abrupt as it may have seemed in the moment to me—was apparently calculated.
Over the course of a week, he dropped Easter eggs about an internal struggle. Then that afternoon, his Instagram message.
Three days later, after volunteering on the Floral Committee with the Deaconess Chair that morning, we had another “long talk”. He pushed, gradually disclosing more detail about his struggle again.
Sympathizing with his pastoral role and need of appropriate help, I asked, “Could you talk to [Senior Pastor]? Or [your wife]?”
He refused my suggestion. He asked to keep it a secret, claiming “you’re my best friend,” and reassured that he’s staying in prayer and reading Scripture.
The following day, he confessed.
When did the water start boiling?
I didn’t yet have the clarity or language to recognize what was happening, but what I experienced wasn’t random.
It was a pattern.
We often tense up when the word “abuse” is introduced into a conversation, but oddly, in my own experience, the word was introduced by my then-Pastor.
“I pursued [her]. I initiated. I abused my role,” he confessed to our Senior Pastor and Deaconess Chair (who’s also the wife of the Senior Pastor… yes, so many layers that deeply complicated proper accountability, which could be another future post for edification).
I sat there bewildered, still carrying the burden of responsibility that had been placed on me.
Abusive spiritual leaders often use a constellation of tactics to target and isolate a person, erode their boundaries, and confuse their perception. Let’s examine some of the most common mechanisms seen in my experience, along with examples and warnings.
(For deeper context, see ClergySexualMisconduct.com’s guide on identifying signs of clergy sexual misconduct.)
How Authority Is Misused: Common Manipulation Tactics
1. Grooming
Grooming is a gradual process of building emotional connection and trust for the purpose of exploitation. It often begins as extra care, private counsel, or special attention.
In my experience, it included frequent check-ins, emotional disclosures, and conversations outside normal pastoral boundaries… all framed as concern.
When pastoral care exceeds transparency and accountability, it becomes a red flag.
2. Gaslighting & Reality Distortion
Once secrecy is established, the abuser will often undermine your perception of reality. They may say things like, “You’re overthinking this,” or “You’re making things worse by talking.” This creates doubt and self-blame in you.
After leadership involvement, his confession to a close-members meeting downplayed the destruction that he created. Rather than identifying the abuse of authority, the narrative of “moral failure” or “inappropriate relationship” circulated. After my victim impact statement, he claimed to leaders that I had “changed [my] story.”
That’s gaslighting. It shifts the blame from the perpetrator to the victim.
3. Secrecy & Confidential Bonds
Secrecy is not pastoral care. It is a control mechanism and it plays a central role in abuse.
ClergySexualMisconduct.com points out that perpetrators often “entrust sensitive information,” ask you to keep things hidden, or escalate private meetings without oversight.
I was repeatedly asked to not tell his wife, church leadership, or anyone else. This sealed me off from support and placed the entire burden on me. If I told anyone, I wondered whether anyone would believe me.
4. Coercion & Threats
As the secret deepens, the fear also follows.
The abuser may begin to wield threats (implicit or explicit). It might be “If you tell, I’ll lose my job,” or “Your friendship with my wife will be destroyed.”
These are not true options. These are pressure and fear tactics disguised as moral obligation. That’s coercion: creating a false choice where speaking up is framed as sinful or disloyal.
5. Isolation
Finally, isolation is one of the most powerful means of control.
When you’re separated from others, such as mentors, friends, family, or other church leaders, you become more dependent on the abuser. In predatory behavior, their target is more easily accessible and vulnerable when alone. Similarly, when a congregant is isolated, they lose the protection of community.
In my experience, he sought moments when no one was around. It became more frequent, more personal, and laced with obligations of secrecy.
Freedom is the Goal
This experience rippled far beyond me. Other congregants later shared with me the patterns they were recognizing, that they could no longer ignore, excuse, or bury.
If you’re reading this with a knot in your stomach, wondering whether what you carried counts, please know that it does. Confusion, hesitation, or delayed recognition are not signs of spiritual failure. They are common outcomes of coercive environments.
Scripture never asks believers to surrender their discernment in order to show submission. “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” (Galatians 5:1)
If spiritual authority harms the sheep, the Good Shepherd stands on the side of truth, protection, and healing.
Later in this series, we’ll continue to explore how Jesus models authority without manipulation, why churches protect leaders who misuse spiritual authority, and navigate healing, discernment, and reclaiming trust.
