Impacts of Forced Forgiveness by Faith Leaders

Amanda vividly recalls the moment during lunchtime when her biblical counselor provided her father with scripted words to apologize for the sexual abuse he inflicted on her, starting from the time she was just nine years old. This distressing encounter took place within a church that was affiliated

Amanda vividly recalls the moment during lunchtime when her biblical counselor provided her father with scripted words to apologize for the sexual abuse he inflicted on her, starting from the time she was just nine years old. This distressing encounter took place within a church that was affiliated with her childhood congregation through its distinctive counseling methodology.

By the age of 17, Amanda found herself seated alongside her family, her personal counselor Lisa, and her parents' marital counselor David, all in the presence of a group of trainees attending a 2002 class at a spacious counseling facility operated by an Indiana-based church. The church's counseling initiative adheres to a specific Christian counseling framework, which is particularly prevalent in conservative Reformed denominations. This framework positions the Bible as the supreme guide for addressing personal issues, prioritizing theological principles over psychological methodologies.

As the counseling trainees dined, they simultaneously observed the family's session, turning it into an unintended spectacle. Amanda describes the atmosphere as "dinner and a show," emphasizing the coercive nature of the entire interaction.

At that juncture, Amanda's mother had been aware of the abuse for a couple of years, yet her father had evaded criminal prosecution by engaging legal representation and relocating from the family home. Amanda was deeply troubled by the fear that her father might victimize others, making it impossible for her to extend forgiveness under such circumstances.

Earlier on that same day, Lisa had conducted separate meetings with Amanda and her mother, aiming to ready them for incorporating her father into the proceedings of her grandmother's funeral. The broader family remained unaware of her parents' separation. Once those discussions concluded, Amanda remained in the car while her parents attended their marriage counseling. Her mother emerged and informed her of an additional session involving David and her father, insisting that Amanda participate. Lisa then escorted them through a side entrance into a large room for this impromptu gathering. The adults orchestrated this extra session specifically to extract an expression of forgiveness from Amanda, which unexpectedly doubled as a teaching demonstration for the trainees.

Amanda remembers her father hesitating and stumbling over his words when David prompted him to initiate the apology. David intervened by suggesting, "Don’t you mean…" and guided her father to echo precise phrases seeking forgiveness. Subsequently, it became Amanda's turn to respond. Overwhelmed, she was unable to voice forgiveness, prompting David to interject into the awkward pause by directly inquiring if she forgave her father. She managed a nod but remained silent.

The counselors then articulated their definition of forgiveness as a commitment to never mention the abuse again. To conclude the session, David offered a prayer imploring the restoration of trust to such an extent that Amanda would eventually feel comfortable placing her own future daughters on her father's lap.

Shortly thereafter, while Amanda was pursuing her college studies, Lisa abruptly ended the counseling relationship. Amanda explains, "I fundamentally disagreed with their interpretation of forgiveness. In my view, we should not employ Christian terminology like that without first clarifying its true meaning."

Is it possible for forgiveness to be truly authentic when it is imposed under duress? From children compelled by parents to utter "I'm sorry" to survivors urged to reconcile with their abusers, coercive pressures to forgive permeate various environments. However, both empirical research and personal testimonies indicate that individuals can still achieve and embody genuine forgiveness following harm from such coercive tactics, provided the situation is managed with sensitivity and deliberation. This demands a thorough comprehension of the settings where forgiveness pressure arises, coupled with the patience to navigate the process gradually.

Defining Authentic Forgiveness

Loren Toussaint, a psychologist and professor at Luther College, explains that imbalances in power dynamics often compel individuals to absolve others to preserve social cohesion. Beyond severe instances like Amanda's, he identifies parent-child relationships and employee-employer interactions as primary arenas where this occurs. Toussaint notes, "There’s a certain sense of uneasiness... If I don’t forgive, there’s going to be ramifications because I’m subordinate to this person. In that case, especially, it’s really hard to guarantee and know that someone is engaging in authentic forgiveness."

Genuine forgiveness cannot be accelerated or superficially declared. It often commences with a deliberate choice to refrain from retaliation. Alternatively, it might manifest as an initial commitment to forgive or, at the very least, to avoid harboring unforgiveness. Nevertheless, this journey frequently spans years, involving repeated cycles of processing the injury—re-experiencing anger, pursuing justice or accountability, and grappling with the viability and safety of any reconciliation. In the end, one may reach a profound recognition of the offender's complete humanity, contemplating their strengths, limitations, and potential for positive transformation, while sincerely desiring their personal development and well-being. Forgiveness unfolds as a multifaceted process.

Toussaint shares a personal anecdote about being overlooked for a promotion years back, an affront from his dean that initially stung deeply. Remarkably, the first time he encountered the dean afterward, Toussaint approached with an outstretched hand. He cautions, however, "The problem is that if you’ve been hurt by someone who is still in power over you, it’s really hard to know that you’re not forgiving out of perceived obligation to protect yourself."

As a Catholic, Toussaint also grappled with faith-based imperatives to forgive. He observes that this pressure extends beyond formal religious adherents: "That’s probably true for a lot of people even if they might not claim a faith. They have a spiritual view on life or a philosophical view on life where they feel this is important: Somewhere we should find the will to forgive." In reality, although he resolved early on to forgive his dean, Toussaint only recognized the full release of his resentment after several years had passed.

Amanda's experience similarly involves stark power imbalances, with religious environments exerting an extra layer of authority that can precipitate profound damage.

The Damaging Effects of Coerced Forgiveness

Attorneys Renato Vera Osuna and Anahi Martinez Zuniga argue in their 2025 paper for the International Journal for Research and Innovation in Social Science that the spiritual and moral sway of religious organizations can devolve into coercive patterns that sustain various forms of violence, encompassing psychological, sexual, and economic harms. Drawing on sociological frameworks of structural and symbolic violence, they illustrate how spiritual damage often evades legal scrutiny because it lacks criminal classification. They advocate for acknowledging spiritual abuse legally, establishing independent oversight mechanisms, and implementing institutional changes rooted in transparency, egalitarian structures, and human rights standards.

In their analysis, Osuna and Zuniga examined documented incidents of coercion or concealment across Catholic, evangelical, and independent churches in North America, Latin America, and Europe. They also consulted victims, legal experts, psychologists, and clergy involved in those cases. Frequently, attempts to report abuse or question authority resulted in silencing or further victimization. The researchers pinpointed control tactics like shielding perpetrators through reassignments, community exclusion threats, branding challengers as adversaries of the church, and manipulative theological interpretations.

Psychologists have similarly delineated the specific harms emerging in religious contexts. Since 1994, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Illnesses has recognized "religious or spiritual problem" to aid precise diagnoses. In fall 2025, it incorporated "moral problem" into this category. Individuals facing religious issues might develop post-traumatic stress symptoms or not, but they invariably gain from therapists trained in these specialized scenarios.

Tyler VanderWeele, director of Harvard's Human Flourishing Project, emphasized at a 2024 conference, "Sometimes clinical work has neglected the moral dimension... many world religions point to the moral dimension, and we cannot bring about full healing without addressing the moral dimension."

Religions furnish robust social identities and serve as interpretive frameworks for understanding existence. Consequently, religious leaders and institutions possess a distinctive spiritual and moral influence.

VanderWeele and fellow researchers are advancing definitions and metrics for moral injury, a concept not exclusive to religion but integral to many religious encounters. Moral injury occurs when actions contravene one's core ethical beliefs, regardless of the context.

Initially linked to veterans and later healthcare professionals—often tied to committing or observing ethical breaches—moral injury now encompasses victims' ordeals. Doubting one's virtue, divine benevolence, or the integrity of faith leaders or doctrines can destabilize psychological well-being.

VanderWeele outlines a moral trauma continuum varying in intensity and duration, which can hinder forgiveness and trigger symptoms like guilt, shame, and helplessness, manifesting in diverse degrees of impairment.

Harvard psychologist Heidi Ellis and collaborators are pioneering assessments for religious abuse, though tools remain nascent. Prevalence differs by demographics, with elevated incidences among LGBTQ+ members of Latter Day Saints and Native Americans from foster care backgrounds. Their literature synthesis identifies recurring elements: power misuse, psychological damage, and spiritual wounding.

In Amanda's conservative evangelical setting, "forgiveness" carried a theological connotation that shielded her abuser from accountability rather than demanding it. Her counselors urged her to presume the best of him to facilitate relational restoration.

Amanda reflects, "I’ve heard many, many stories that abuse survivors were counseled in similar ways." She maintains connections with fellow survivors and champions victims' causes within church circles as new accounts emerge. She affirms forgiveness's viability but warns that mishandled reconciliation efforts can inflict additional injury.

The Pitfalls of Positivity and Spiritual Bypassing

A frequent misstep in Christian environments involves hastening toward forgiveness without first tackling tangible concerns or validating survivors' needs. Episcopal Church bishop Justin Holcomb stated in a 2019 conference presentation, "I have never had to tell a survivor who is a Christian, ‘Hey, it’s about time you have to talk about forgiveness.’ I usually have to hold them back a little bit."

He attributes this to the constant emphasis on forgiveness in such circles and cautions supporters, including clergy: "When they come to you with their story, the first word out of your mouth better not be to heap burden on them with the command to forgive."

This perspective validates Amanda's ordeal, as she cites his words affirmingly. Survivors require space to process their trauma fully, she asserts. "We can’t forgive until we understand what’s happened... Thinking about forgiveness can’t be the first thing that we do because it minimizes the sin."

Amanda illustrates with an analogy: We wouldn't merely apply a Band-Aid to a severe nine-inch laceration on a child's leg. "We have to be able to understand that weight."

Spiritual bypassing—prioritizing ethereal resolutions over practical remedies—obstructs candid evaluations of offense responses.

Ellen Sinclair observes that forgiveness interventions, religious or otherwise, may promote optimistic reframing but overlook relational fractures. Forced positivity can obscure perilous realities in abusive dynamics. Her analysis reveals that overly optimistic domestic abuse victims underestimated dangers, and forgiving unrepentant spouses correlated with recurrent victimization. Improperly applied positivity risks victim-blaming for struggling amid injustice.

Toussaint highlights faith communities' prescriptive forgiveness doctrines as problematic, rooted in sacred texts deeming it mandatory. Yet, he adds, "Most people believe they are being asked to, number one, forgo any simultaneous requirement of justice and that they are to reconcile and even... to immediately reconcile." This misunderstanding compounds the challenge.

Resilience and Meaning-Making Post-Coercion

Remarkably, Amanda remained affiliated with her church and cultivated personal growth through a deeper grasp of Jesus's significance in her life. She exemplifies those who derive fortitude from their faith amid adversity. Psychologist Paula Swindle's dissertation on religious abuse responses reveals polarized outcomes: some intensify faith commitment like Amanda, while others disengage entirely or switch affiliations.

Amanda's retention stemmed from a new pastor assuming leadership at her childhood church, aware of the prevalent cultural harms. He proactively connected with her, built rapport, and patiently awaited her narrative. At 23, her youngest sister disclosed paternal abuse and relocated to Amanda's home, exposing the family's concealed history comprehensively.

The pastor engaged Amanda in discussions on forgiveness's authentic essence. She notes, "One of the things we talked about: that David’s view of forgiveness actually makes the offended party have to be the savior. When you forgive someone, you take the relational weight upon yourself rather than putting it on the offender. I was expected to carry the uncomfortableness and not make my dad carry it."

Amanda has refined her scriptural comprehension of forgiveness, which entails refraining from usurping the burden Christ bears. Her father requires divine absolution, she maintains, unadulterated. While Jesus extends pardon, "he doesn’t take away the consequences for sin here in this world. Relational consequences stay." She draws from the biblical account of King David's murder of Uriah to conceal his affair with Bathsheba, incurring the loss of his child and national discord.

When her father expressed repentance, counselors pressed Amanda to idealize him. She counters: "I say we should believe the truth about others. I need to believe that my dad has abused multiple children, and there’s no reason to believe that he will stop if given access to children. It’s having a realistic view of what is best for him. I think that does mean making sure he doesn’t have access to children again. I don’t think that’s in his best interest."

For nearly seven years since publicly sharing her story, Amanda fields church invitations to advise on victim support. As a survivor, she says, "you don’t even know what you need. But you need someone else to be able to say it for you."

She first alerts churches to religion's inherent power asymmetries, as explored by legal and psychological scholars.

Additionally, she highlights abusers' community manipulations. Churches often embrace repentant sinners warmly; in conservative Christianity, repentance implies sincere remorse and reform intent, tempting exploiters to feign it cynically.

Finally, Amanda stresses precise forgiveness delineations. True forgiveness resembles a seed, planted long ago in her heart, steadily maturing over decades into profound insight.