When the System Protects the Predator: Why Good People Stay Silent
I still remember the shock in my voice when I heard about the Hillsong whistleblower's story. A young boy, molested starting at age seven by Brian Houston's father. When he finally found the courage to tell his mother at sixteen, her first response wasn't to comfort her son or seek justice.
Her first response was: "If this comes out, people aren't going to get saved."
The system had trained even a mother to prioritize the institution over her own child's suffering.
This is how systems protect predators. Not through malicious conspiracy, but through well-meaning people who have been conditioned to believe that preserving the organization is more important than protecting individuals within it.
The Anatomy of Institutional Protection
Whether it's a church, school, corporation, or family, human systems have a powerful instinct for self-preservation. When abuse is exposed, the collective response is often to "circle the wagons"—to protect the institution at all costs.
This protection mechanism operates at every level:
Leadership level: "We can't let this destroy everything we've built. Think of all the good we do."
Community level: "Surely there's been some misunderstanding. He's helped so many people."
Victim level: "Maybe I should just keep quiet. Look at all the damage my speaking up has caused."
The system literally programs people to protect it, even when that protection enables continued abuse.
The Greater Good Deception
The most insidious part of this dynamic is how it masquerades as noble thinking. "Think of the greater good." "Don't let one bad situation destroy all the good work we're doing." "Consider how many people will be hurt if this comes out."
But here's the truth that systems don't want you to see: if you really had the system at heart, if it truly was about the greater good, you still would not perpetrate evil to keep it going. Why? Because evil eventually tears systems down anyway.
When we allow abuse to continue for the sake of "the greater good," we're not actually protecting anything. We're enabling a cancer that will ultimately destroy everything we claim to be protecting.
Evil isn't interested in preserving your institution. Evil is there to destroy humans—and through that destruction, it will eventually destroy your system too.
How Systems Fight for Survival
When abuse is exposed, systems deploy predictable defense mechanisms:
Minimizing: "It wasn't that bad." "It was just a misunderstanding." "You're blowing this out of proportion."
Gaslighting: "That's not how I remember it." "You're being too sensitive." "Are you sure you're remembering correctly?"
Character assassination: "She's always been a troublemaker." "He's just bitter about being passed over for promotion." "Consider the source."
Deflection: "We all make mistakes." "Nobody's perfect." "Let's not focus on the past."
Isolation: "Don't talk to media." "Keep this within the family." "You're damaging our witness by speaking publicly."
False forgiveness: "Shouldn't you forgive and move on?" "Holding onto bitterness will only hurt you." "God wants you to let this go."
The Whistleblower's Burden
When someone finally finds the courage to speak up about abuse, the system's response is designed to make them regret it. Even victims who know they've done the right thing often say afterward, "I wish I had just kept my mouth shut."
Why? Because they've been conditioned to believe that speaking up makes them responsible for all the chaos that follows. They see the "rattling and shaking" that occurs when truth comes to light, and they feel guilty for "causing" it.
But here's what systems don't want you to understand: the person speaking up didn't cause the damage. The abuse caused the damage. Speaking up just made the existing damage visible.
When you finally have the courage to say "this is wrong," you're not destroying something beautiful. You're exposing something that was already rotten underneath the pretty exterior.
The False Flag Operations
One of evil's most effective strategies is to send false accusations into the mix whenever real abuse is being exposed. These fabricated claims serve a specific purpose: they give people an excuse to dismiss all accusations as potentially false.
This is why the enemy will allow some false allegations to come forward during movements like #MeToo. When one turns out to be fabricated, suddenly people can say, "Well, I don't know if we can trust any of these accusations."
But here's the statistical reality: studies consistently show that false accusations of abuse represent only about 4-6% of all reports. That means roughly 94-95% of accusations turn out to be accurate.
Yet our predisposition should be toward taking every complaint seriously, regardless of how much we love or revere the accused. We should operate on "trust but verify"—investigate thoroughly while supporting the victim through the process.
The Cognitive Dissonance
Why do good people participate in protecting abusers? Often it's because their brains literally can't process the contradiction:
This is my pastor who dedicated my babies, who was there when we were in the hospital, who has preached sermons that blessed my life for years. How could he also be someone who raped a seven-year-old in his office?
This cognitive dissonance creates what I call "the flicker"—a mental short-circuiting that makes people say things like "Did that really happen? No, that's my pastor. I love this man."
But here's what I've learned: when accusations of abuse come out, pay attention to the people around the accused. Often, even those who initially want to defend will say things like "I knew something was off" or "There were always little things that made me uncomfortable."
The abuse wasn't as hidden as everyone thought. People just didn't have permission to name what they were seeing until someone else spoke up first.
The Price of Silence
When systems prioritize their own survival over protecting victims, the cost is enormous:
More victims are created. Abusers who are protected continue abusing. Every day of delay means more people are harmed.
Trust is systematically destroyed. When people learn that the institution they trusted was protecting predators, they often lose faith not just in that organization but in similar institutions altogether.
The vulnerable lose voice. When victims see what happens to those who speak up, they learn to stay silent about their own experiences.
Evil is normalized. The message becomes: "This is just how things are. Don't rock the boat. Protect the image."
God's heart is misrepresented. When churches protect abusers in the name of "grace" and "forgiveness," they teach people that God's priority is institutional preservation rather than justice and healing.
Breaking the Cycle
How do we break this destructive pattern? It starts with understanding that true love protects the powerless, not the powerful.
Love goes after evil, even when it's inconvenient, even when it's costly, even when it threatens the system we've built.
Love stands with David against Goliath, understanding that even if we lose, even if the whole system comes down, righteousness matters more than self-preservation.
Love creates systems where truth can be spoken without retaliation, where victims are believed and supported, where transparency is valued over image management.
Love recognizes that institutions exist to serve people, not the other way around. When an institution stops serving people and starts consuming them, it has lost its purpose.
The Truth About Consequences
When abuse is finally exposed and institutions begin to crumble, systems blame the whistleblowers for the destruction. But the truth is different:
The Southern Baptist Convention's recent reckoning with decades of abuse wasn't caused by the people who reported it—it was caused by the leaders who covered it up.
Hillsong's downfall wasn't caused by the victims who spoke up—it was caused by the patterns of abuse and coverup that had been operating for years.
The Catholic Church's crisis wasn't caused by investigative journalists—it was caused by predatory priests and the bishops who protected them.
When you refuse to allow evil to continue, you're not destroying something good. You're allowing something truly good to have a chance to emerge.
A Different Way Forward
What would it look like if institutions prioritized protection of the vulnerable over protection of their image?
Immediate response to allegations with proper investigation and victim support
Transparency about findings and corrective actions taken
Accountability for leaders who enabled or covered up abuse
Systematic changes to prevent future abuse rather than just dealing with individual cases
Recognition that protecting victims is protecting the institution's true purpose
This isn't about becoming vindictive or unforgiving. It's about understanding that genuine love requires courage—the courage to stand up to evil even when it's costly, even when it threatens the systems we've built our lives around.
The Call to Courage
If you're in a position where you know about abuse, where you've seen the warning signs, where you have information that could protect others—your silence is not neutrality. Your silence is participation in the system that protects predators.
I understand the fear. Speaking up is costly. You might lose your job, your community, your sense of belonging. The system will fight back, and it will try to make you regret coming forward.
But remember: love should go protect the powerless one. Love should stand up before Goliath. Love should rescue the victims, even at great personal cost.
Hope in the Midst of Exposure
When institutions are shaken and secrets are brought to light, it can feel like everything is falling apart. But what if this shaking is actually God's mercy? What if He's allowing the things that were already broken to be revealed so they can finally be healed?
"He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8, ESV)
Justice, kindness, and humility. These are the foundations of systems that truly serve God's purposes. When our institutions reflect these values, they don't need to fear the truth.
The goal isn't to destroy everything. The goal is to build systems so committed to truth and justice that predators can't operate within them, where the vulnerable are protected, where transparency is normal rather than threatening.
Moving Forward
Change is coming whether we participate in it or resist it. Institutions that refuse to reform themselves will find themselves reformed by outside forces. Secrets that organizations won't reveal voluntarily will be exposed by others.
The question isn't whether change will come. The question is whether we'll have the courage to be part of creating healthy systems rather than waiting for unhealthy ones to collapse under their own weight.
We can be part of building God's Kingdom—systems characterized by justice, mercy, and truth—or we can continue protecting human kingdoms built on power, secrecy, and self-preservation.
The choice is ours. But let's be clear about what we're choosing: we're choosing between systems that protect predators and systems that protect the innocent.
That shouldn't be a difficult decision for people who claim to follow the One who said, "It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were cast into the sea than that he should cause one of these little ones to sin" (Luke 17:2, ESV).
The truth will set us free—but first, it's going to make a lot of systems very uncomfortable. And that's exactly what needs to happen.
Blessings,
Susan 😊