The Power of Your Voice

By Abigail Degnan

In May 2021, I packed my bags and left the place I had called home for almost a year—a biblical counseling crisis center where I was serving as an intern. I had arrived eager to serve, to grow in my faith, and to help others find healing. 

But after months of being immersed in their culture and ministry, I left deeply broken. I was suicidal, struggling with a binge-and-restrict eating disorder, and I walked away from Christianity. That was never what I expected when I began the internship the previous July. 

A year earlier, my heart had been in the right place. I wanted to help hurting women who were battling depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, eating disorders, unplanned pregnancies, addiction, and more. I thought I was joining a ministry that brought hope and healing. I never imagined I would walk away traumatized myself.

It took me years to find the courage to talk about what happened. And I’ve found that I wasn’t alone in that fear of speaking out. 

So why is it so hard to speak up against abuse? And why did it take me so long?

According to a 2025 report by World Metrics, around 60 percent of religious abuse survivors don’t report their abuse because of fear of retaliation or disbelief. With 60 percent of survivors not reporting their abuse, this means the problem is far more widespread than most people realize or want to admit. As someone who has returned to the Christian faith, that reality breaks my heart.

For many survivors, putting the experience into words feels impossible. There’s confusion, fear, and often deep shame.

The first time my fellow interns and I brought our concerns to leadership, we were accused of being in “dirty, rotten sin” and told to repent for gossiping against the ministry. The second time, when I confided that I felt so oppressed I was thinking about suicide, I was told to meditate on a Bible verse. The third time, I wrote a seven-page letter to the executive director of the ministry and the senior pastor of the church that oversaw it. The director’s response was, “I’m sorry the internship did not meet your expectations.” The blame shifted to me, as if my expectations were the problem, not their actions.

Later, when I finally spoke publicly about what had happened, I was called a slanderer and a gossiper and told I was in sin.

This is why survivors fear speaking out. Because retaliation is real. Gossip should be taken seriously, but abuse is far more serious. Holding religious leaders accountable for harm is not gossip; it’s a matter of courage.

Jesus Himself set that example.

Throughout Scripture, we see Jesus rebuke religious leaders for hypocrisy and for twisting God’s Word (see Luke 11:37-54 and Matthew 23:1–36). He showed that while God’s Word is divine and perfect, people are not. Even those who teach it can misuse it. None of us should assume that church leaders are above error or beyond accountability.

The best leaders I’ve ever met are humble enough to admit when they’re wrong and to seek reconciliation. Sadly, not all are like that. Some churches and ministries silence victims, ignore accusations, and even turn communities against those who dare to speak up. At the crisis center where I worked, one intern was dismissed for disagreeing with the executive director’s COVID-19 policies. We were told not to speak to her after she left.

For many people, their church or religious community is their entire social world. The idea of losing that can be terrifying. It often leaves victims feeling stuck. They either leave and start over completely or stay and endure the pain in silence.

Leaving is the better choice, but it’s also incredibly hard and lonely. That’s why I believe there has to be a third way: being heard and supported the first time you raise concerns.

Instead of burying accusations or pushing people out, leaders should listen, investigate, and take action. Healthy communities grow stronger through honesty, not secrecy. If Jesus dared to confront religious leaders for their hypocrisy and misuse of God’s Word, we should honor and support those who do the same today.

Walking away from a faith community that refuses to believe you can feel like stepping into the unknown. But it can also be the beginning of healing. When you finally walk out those doors, you start to reclaim the parts of yourself that were taken. Each step forward is another piece of you being restored. When you tell your story, you reclaim what they tried to take: your worth, your truth, your freedom. 

You reclaim the power of your voice—and you realize that you never lost the power to begin with. 

Hope Restored’s peer-led support communities offer a safe and inclusive space to share your story and voice without fear of retaliation. You will receive support and encouragement as you take the first step in reclaiming your voice. Connect with us to learn more.