Story 07
Bethel Church of San Jose
I grew up in the Assemblies of God church. It was my world, my home, my community, my foundation. From childhood into my teen years, I served however I could: teaching toddlers and pre-K, helping in student ministries, greeting visitors, joining worship team rotations, setting up spaces before services. I believed deeply in the mission, the faith, and the people.
By junior year of high school, I was a student leader and fully committed to serving. During that time, I met the boy who would become my husband. We started dating senior year and fell in love quickly. In that relationship, we made a mistake. We broke the “purity contract” that student leaders had to sign. We were willing to take responsibility for that choice. But instead of biblical correction and guidance, what followed was humiliation, punishment, and spiritual abandonment.
Even before our mistake became known, I had begun facing bullying from other female student leaders who disapproved of our relationship. They mocked my appearance, sent degrading messages, and compared themselves to me in hurtful, body-focused ways. At the same time, a male student leader repeatedly pressured me for explicit photos; what started as “jokes” quickly escalated into serious, threatening messages. My boyfriend and I confronted him, hoping it would stop, but it did not.
When our situation was eventually reported, I was called in alone to meet with our male youth pastor. Instead of compassion or support, I was met with shame. He told me he knew what we had done and immediately labeled me as the cause of sin. I was told I had “led my boyfriend to fall” and “caused temptation” for someone else. When I tried to report the bullying and sexual harassment I had been enduring, it was dismissed as “a consequence of my behavior.” I wasn’t given pastoral care, I wasn’t protected, and I wasn’t believed. My mistake was used as justification to blame me for the actions and sins of others.
I was removed from student leadership and told to cut contact with my boyfriend. I thought I would be allowed to quietly step back and heal. Instead, the youth pastors publicly announced to the entire student leadership team why we were removed and instructed them not to speak to us. Overnight, I went from being a trusted leader to being isolated and shunned. Friends avoided me. Mentors I loved withdrew their care. I was treated like a spiritual contaminant, like I had become someone dangerous, undeserving of grace, support, or dignity.
What hurt most was not just the consequences for a mistake, but the complete failure of shepherding and the misuse of spiritual authority. I was promised guidance, counseling, and support. I never received a single call. When I followed up, I was brushed aside. Leadership had favorites, and it became painfully clear I was now “unworthy.” My husband, then still my boyfriend, who had dreamed of going into ministry and becoming a pastor, was devastated. The very leaders who once encouraged and affirmed him turned their backs. His spark died, and he stopped attending church the next week.
I continued attending for a while, because my family was deeply connected there, but I stopped going to student services. Even then, many of the former student leaders and adult leaders never spoke to us again. Years later, when those same pastors casually approached us at a satellite campus to congratulate us on our marriage and tell us they were proud of us, they never acknowledged their role in our trauma. They acted as if none of it happened.
It has been ten years since then. Healing has been slow, and spiritual trust doesn’t rebuild easily after it’s been violated. My husband and I have now been together for 10 years and married for 7. We are happy. We have fought to rebuild our faith, our identity, and our relationship with God on healthier ground. I eventually found my way back to Christ, not because the church held me, but because God never let me go. My husband still wrestles with trusting the church, and I don’t fault him for that. Spiritual abuse leaves long shadows.
I forgive everyone involved, truly. But forgiveness doesn’t erase what happened, and silence only protects harmful systems. I share this because spiritual abuse in the AG does happen. Purity culture can be weaponized. Power can be misused in the name of God. And young people can be spiritually abandoned under the guise of discipline. We survived it. We are healing. We still believe in a God who restores, even when His people fail. And we trust that when the time is right, He will lead us to a community that reflects His heart, not the judgment and shame we once experienced.
