Skeletons in the Closet

There are moments when we have to ask whether silence is still wisdom—or whether it has begun to prevent necessary conversations from happening.

That's a difficult tension, especially within the Church.

Speaking up can carry a cost. Relationships can become strained. Motives can be misunderstood. And sometimes we remain quiet because we genuinely believe we are protecting the Church, preserving unity, or avoiding unnecessary division.

Those aren't always bad motivations.

But what happens when silence means legitimate concerns never get addressed? What happens when people have been harmed but those who see problems are afraid to ask questions? And how do we distinguish between creating unnecessary division and raising concerns that may actually help make the Church healthier?

These are questions I have found myself wrestling with.

It's also why I believe conversations about accountability matter—not because I want to tear down the Church or assume the worst about its leaders, but because I care deeply about seeing the Church remain healthy, honest, and accountable.

Scripture seems to leave room for this tension. Ephesians 5:11 calls believers to expose works of darkness, while James 4:17 reminds us that knowing what is right carries responsibility. Jesus Himself was willing to confront religious leadership when necessary, particularly when justice, mercy, and the treatment of people were at stake.

At the same time, none of that gives us permission to make reckless accusations or assume guilt without evidence. Truth matters. Grace matters. Humility matters. Due process matters.

But accountability matters too.

So perhaps the question isn't whether we should protect the Church. Of course we should care about the Church and her witness.

The more difficult question may be: What does protecting the Church actually look like?

Could there be times when protecting the Church means being willing to acknowledge what is broken rather than hiding it? Could bringing problems into the light ultimately strengthen the Church rather than weaken it?

Those questions become especially relevant when considering what has happened within Chi Alpha.

For many of us, the church has long represented a place of safety—a community where truth is valued, people are cared for, and leaders are expected to model integrity and accountability. Campus ministries carry an especially significant responsibility because they often walk alongside young adults during some of the most formative years of their lives.

That is part of what makes the controversy surrounding Chi Alpha so difficult to process.

What began with allegations surrounding Daniel Savala has developed into a much broader conversation about spiritual authority, institutional accountability, leadership culture, and how Christian organizations respond when serious concerns arise. The situation has increasingly raised questions that extend beyond the actions of one individual or even one ministry.

Perhaps, then, the most important question isn't simply, “What happened?”

We also need to ask, “How did we get here—and what can we learn from it?”

I don't believe most church leaders begin with the intention of protecting an institution at the expense of people. These situations are rarely that simple. More often, unhealthy cultures seem to develop gradually.

We love our churches. We trust our leaders. We become deeply connected to ministries that have shaped our faith and changed our lives. Because of that, when something threatens a ministry or leader we care about, our instinct may naturally be to defend them.

That response is understandable, but it is also worth examining.

What happens when loyalty to a leader becomes difficult to distinguish from loyalty to Christ? What happens when questioning a decision begins to feel like questioning the ministry itself? And what happens when legitimate concerns are interpreted as disloyalty, bitterness, or an attempt to cause division?

Those are important questions because environments where people become hesitant to raise concerns can unintentionally allow unhealthy patterns to continue.

Perhaps unhealthy systems don't always begin with bad intentions. Sometimes relationships become too close, accountability remains too internal, and people who genuinely care about an organization become reluctant to ask difficult questions. Over time, protecting the ministry can gradually become confused with protecting the system.

Churches and ministries also face many of the pressures other organizations face—financial concerns, legal responsibilities, relationships, reputation, and public trust. When a crisis occurs, there can be an understandable instinct to minimize damage and preserve what has been built.

But that raises another question: What exactly are we trying to protect?

Protecting the health of a ministry and protecting its reputation are not necessarily the same thing. In fact, there may be moments when preserving the long-term health and credibility of a ministry requires acknowledging where something went wrong.

Transparency can be uncomfortable. Accountability can be painful. Neither necessarily means an organization is unhealthy. Sometimes the willingness to be examined may actually demonstrate the opposite.

The Assemblies of God has publicly acknowledged failures connected to Chi Alpha and discussed reforms and stronger safeguards. Those steps matter and should be recognized.

At the same time, this situation gives the broader Church an opportunity to consider what meaningful accountability should look like before another crisis occurs.

Are our accountability structures sufficiently independent? Do people feel safe raising concerns? Can leaders be questioned without those asking questions being viewed as disloyal? When serious allegations arise, do our systems naturally prioritize understanding what happened and caring for the people involved?

These questions are not unique to Chi Alpha or the Assemblies of God. Similar challenges can develop in churches, denominations, ministries, and other organizations whenever authority, relationships, loyalty, and institutional reputation become closely connected.

That is why the conversation cannot end with identifying what went wrong. We should also be willing to ask what healthier structures might look like moving forward.

One possible step is recognizing that accountability is often strongest when the organization being examined is not solely responsible for examining itself.

For serious allegations involving abuse, misconduct, or significant leadership failures, churches and denominations could establish genuinely independent accountability processes. Qualified professionals outside the immediate leadership structure could help receive concerns, conduct investigations, and make recommendations without facing the same relational or institutional pressures as those within the organization.

But policy alone cannot create a healthy culture.

We also need church environments where honest questions are not automatically interpreted as rebellion, where leaders understand accountability as part of healthy leadership, and where people can raise legitimate concerns without fearing the loss of their community.

That could include clearer reporting procedures, independent investigations when appropriate, stronger safeguards for vulnerable people, greater transparency regarding how serious concerns are handled, and meaningful accountability when leadership failures occur.

None of this requires assuming the worst about every pastor, ministry, or denomination. Many faithful leaders serve with integrity and genuinely want healthy churches. It simply recognizes something Christianity has taught from the beginning: none of us should be beyond accountability.

No organizational structure will eliminate human failure. That isn't a realistic goal.

A healthier goal is to build systems where wrongdoing is more difficult to hide, concerns are easier to raise, problems are addressed sooner, and restoration begins with truth rather than reputation management.

Maybe that is one of the most important lessons we can take from what has happened.

Instead of reducing the conversation to those who defend the Church versus those who criticize it, perhaps we can create space for something more constructive: people who love the Church enough to ask how we can make our churches and ministries healthier.

What have we learned? Where have our structures worked, and where have they failed? What needs to change? How can we build cultures where truth, transparency, questions, and accountability are not viewed as threats to ministry but as necessary parts of keeping ministry healthy?

The Chi Alpha situation is painful, and serious questions remain surrounding what happened and how different individuals and institutions responded. But perhaps something constructive can come from being willing to wrestle with those questions rather than avoiding them.

Maybe the question moving forward shouldn't be, “How do we prevent another scandal?”

Perhaps the better question is:

“How do we build church cultures where problems are recognized and addressed long before they ever become one?”

Let’s chat. Leave me a comment below—I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts.