Thank You for Reaching Out
A response to one LCMS pastor’s message—and a quiet thank you to everyone who’s reading with honesty and care.
Over the past few days, many of you have written to share your support, your stories, and your encouragement. I’ve read every message. Some brought me to tears. Some left me quiet. And some made me feel a fierce sense of shared indignation.
One message came from a current pastor in the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. With his permission, I’m sharing part of what he wrote anonymously. His words are deeply humbling, and they mean more to me than I can say.
The message below is shared with permission. Only minor formatting edits have been made for readability; the wording remains exactly as it was written.
Ma'am, thank you for sharing this very painful piece of your story. Someone friend requested me on Facebook this morning and their page was links to your Substack. I'm sorry that's what it took for me to find your story. I shouldn't be surprised, but I am disappointed that a story like yours has a hard time reaching people.
As a victim of childhood clergy abuse, you've given me some new language.
As a pastor doing his damndest for my flock, you've given me a lot to ponder—along with shown me everything I pray not to be as a pastor.
As a part of the Missouri Synod, you've made me aware of something intolerable; namely, the use of resignation to delay or avoid confronting the just consequences of disgracing the office. Institutionally, you've shone light on a blemish of the Bride.
If one of us failed you, we've all failed you. I'm sorry the 8th commandment was used as a club against you and as salt in your wounds.
I worry that we've pulled the teeth out of the gospel and wonder why pastors fail to protect those we've been called to protect.
We owe it to our Lord and to our congregation to do better by our flock.
I've prayed for your continued healing and pursuit of beauty. For my own part, I mean to share your story in my own (albeit, limited) circles, share your story with those I know it will benefit, and seek the right words to call for a right response and transparency.
Jill, you're a terrific writer and I wish more of us had half your spine. You're a gift and a blessing.
I don’t take lightly what it means for a survivor—and an active LCMS pastor—to send a message like this. His words, especially “you've given me some new language,” are among the most meaningful I’ve received.
What stood out most wasn’t just his compassion—it was his courage to reflect honestly, to wrestle with what the story revealed, and to integrate it with his own experience. That kind of humility and clarity isn’t common, especially among leaders. And it deserves to be named.
Thank you to those who’ve reached out, whether publicly or quietly behind the scenes. Thank you to those who are still sitting with what they’ve read, still sorting through what it brings up. Thank you to those finding their own words for the very first time.
This story is personal. But it’s not just mine. The more we speak, the more the silence loses its grip.
With gratitude,
Jill