The Narcissist’s Creed
That didn’t happen.
And if it did, it wasn’t that bad.
And if it was, that’s not a big deal.
And if it is, that’s not my fault.
And if it was, I didn’t mean it.
And if I did, you deserved it.
–Danya Craig
*You can find the previous post in this series here.
Blame-shifting is just one of many self-protective moves that false shepherds utilize to preserve their image and position. When helping wounded sheep make sense of their experiences, I guide them in identifying the tactics used to oppress, confuse, and keep them serving within these unhealthy families and churches. Exposing these tactics helps wounded sheep place blame where it belongs—in the hearts of the shepherds who harmed them.
Silencing Questions
False shepherds consistently silence questions to maintain control and power over the sheep. Time and again, sheep who approach these shepherds with questions or concerns (from theology, to methodology, to church practice) find themselves targeted as divisive, un-submissive, or disrespectful of leadership or even arrogant for daring to challenge them. Insecure shepherds, rather than receive questions as opportunities for growth, feel threatened because questions inevitably expose weaknesses and sins. A shepherd’s fear of being seen as inferior or weak distorts genuine questions into threats to his position. Genuine shepherds, however, welcome questions as opportunities of grace to keep their own hearts in check or help the sheep grow in maturity and understanding.
In my experience under shepherds like Robert and Karen Cheong—who invited and engaged questions—I gained confidence in my ability to discern life and reality according to Jesus and his word. As I grew in discernment, I slowly began to question the beliefs and interpretations of life and reality that were handed to me by the first shepherds I knew—my parents. The freedom to question those in positions of authority over me was not something I’d experienced in my family of origin. Even respectful questions, especially if they highlighted a potential weakness or wrongdoing on my parents’ end, were not tolerated. To question my parents was to incur their wrath; so, to stay safe, I kept most of my questions and opinions to myself. Sheep in narcissistic churches have similar experiences—questioning authority is either expressly forbidden or subtly discouraged. Sometimes a shepherd’s resistance to question-asking is masked by manipulative power-plays like: “Can’t you just trust me as your spiritual leader?” or “I hope you believe that I care about this church.” In other words, the shepherd doesn’t have to explain himself to the sheep because the sheep’s job is to blindly trust, not question.
Under the care of loving shepherds who weren’t threatened by the exposure of their own weaknesses and sins, I began to feel safe enough to respectfully question those in positions of authority. Two questioning moments stand out starkly in my memory because they highlighted the cracks in my faulty belief that my pastor’s family was “a notch above the rest.” In the first, I’m standing in Sunday School listening to Robert Cheong teach on 1 Corinthians 13—the love chapter—and the thought, “If my family was so perfectly loving, why is this so radically new?” popped into my head. It hung there like a fat spider caught in his web. My brain sifted through the cobwebs of my experience for a category to place this contradiction—if my family said they were so loving, why didn’t we live the principles of 1 Corinthians 13? Finding no category, I filed my question away. In the second moment, I’m standing in a friend’s kitchen after small group, and she asks me, “If you could do one thing differently than your parents, what would it be?” My mind blanked, went dark. It was the strangest feeling, that blank numbness in the face of such a simple question. I remember reflecting, “Something isn’t normal about this. There must be something I’d do differently. No family is perfect.” But with no categories with which to interpret my blank mind, I told my friend, “I can’t think of anything I would do differently,” and filed the moment away.
Controlling the Narrative
In those two moments and more to come, my mind was working to meld two contradictory narratives of my pastor’s family. On the one hand, I was told repeatedly in various ways that we were superior to other Christians in how we lived and loved. Yet, in my supposedly loving family, my personhood and voice were either silenced or used to reinforce the family narrative. In contrast, the Cheongs sought to strengthen my voice and encourage my relational gifts just because God gave them to me to be used for His sake, according to His good plan. The difference between the two experiences caused me to question my family’s narrative of “We are more loving than anyone else.”
When my mind went blank in the face of being asked to offer a constructive criticism of my parents, I was being invited into the experience of what psychologists call cognitive dissonance. At its basic level cognitive dissonance is a mental conflict where your beliefs don’t match your actions and experiences. For example, my family believed themselves to be “perfectly loving” yet behaved cruelly towards me and others. Rather than admit their imperfect love, my family controlled their image to appear perfectly loving. How could my family be both loving and cruel at the same time? Perfect yet imperfect? My mind could not reconcile the contradictory narratives. So, when asked to point out my parent’s imperfections, I eliminated my confusion and discomfort by holding onto my long-held belief that my family was “perfectly loving.”
When individuals wounded by false shepherds share their stories with me, their confusion and disorientation is evidence of living under leadership that claims to be loving and Christ-centered yet behaves in cruel and self-centered ways. Sheep trapped inside the fold are whiplashed back and forth between what the leader says and how he behaves in relationship. In other words, these sheep live stuck between two competing narratives: the narrative the shepherd claims to live—loving and Christ-oriented—and the narrative he actually lives—harsh and self-oriented. False shepherds often intensify the confusion by sanctioning their narratives with some version of humble brag: “I’m so thankful for God’s grace through the power of the gospel, that allows me to preach, teach, and disciple biblically.” In these contexts, biblically often implies superior to the inferior church (or pastor) down the road. The false shepherd’s narrative of “biblical superiority” subtly communicates that his church is the only true church. This false message keeps the sheep from looking outside their pastor or denomination for differing opinions or ministry approaches. Some sheep buy into this superiority message so completely that they believe they are somehow special, set a part, or better than other Christians because of where they choose to worship. This delusion blinds them to such a degree that they dismiss or suppress any evidence to the contrary. Even when sheep are clearly mistreated by leadership, they often respond by desperately clinging to the false narrative because they don’t have categories to make sense of their experience.
If a brave sheep chooses to press through her confusion and question the false shepherd’s superiority narrative—“Are you saying you are better than Pastor Bill at the church down the road?” The false shepherd often covers up his assertions of superiority with rationalizations like “Oh no, you misunderstand me! That’s not what I meant at all!” or claims of ignorance “I don’t recall saying that!” These verbal cover-ups only add to the confusion.
Scripture identifies individuals who propagate mixed messages like these (I am superior. No, I’m not saying I’m superior) “double-minded.” These shepherds publicly proclaim service to Christ while privately serving themselves. Double-minded shepherds are unstable in all their ways because they cannot serve two masters—God and self. Sadly, the more entrenched the shepherd’s superiority narrative, the more deceptive his tactics in suppressing those who question him.
Reflection
- Can you identify specific situations or moments when your voice was silenced? How did you respond to being silenced—emotionally, physically, intellectually?
- Can you identify the competing narratives present in your story of church trauma?
You can find the rest of the posts in this series here.
[1] The tactics utilized by false shepherds aren’t limited to the six described in this series of posts. However, I’ve found these six to be consistently applied over time and helpful in bringing clarity to wounded sheep suffering under the oppression of narcissistic shepherds and churches.
Pursued 