“There have been too many revelations of adults who have averted their eyes from this evil.” Prime Minister Julia Gillard

It was extraordinary how quickly, it seemed, the government moved to establish the upcoming Royal Commission into Child Abuse in November 2012.

Well, perhaps that’s not the right way to think of it. Evidence of the failure to deal properly with allegations of child abuse in church and other organisations have been surfacing for years. State commissions have been set up at various times, but still the sore has not healed. Still the allegations keep surfacing—in appalling numbers. Not only have there been vile acts committed on the most vulnerable. But these acts were overlooked, or minimised, or outright denied by the institutions that employed the perpetrators.

The Roman Catholic Church has borne the brunt of the criticism; and doubtless it has particular systemic and theological issues that have made the problem worse. It is hard to see how the loneliness and isolation brought about by vows of celibacy have not added to the problem. In addition, a high view of the priesthood as the domain of a spiritual elite lends to the perpetrators an air of credibility and purity.

The word ‘priest’ has become a byword for ‘child-abuser’ in the community. It is that bad.

However, Protestant churches should not think themselves somehow untouched by the emergence of this scandal. In the first place, the community at large does not distinguish between denominations in the way that we might. So, we have a vested interest in the Catholic church getting its house in order, since we are all tainted by this.

But—and this is more important—the Protestant denominations and churches have had their own scandals, and their own cover-ups—and that means, sadly, their own trail of victims.

Each of these victims represents a person for whom trust has been broken not simply by an individual, but by the church itself. The trauma of the abuse has been magnified by the refusal of the institutions to accept responsibility.

How could it happen?

There has, in my observation, been a combination of theological errors at the heart of this catastrophe—one that has led to an institutional self-deception on a massive scale. It is at its worst with child abuse, but these mistakes have an impact in other areas as well.

The first of these errors is to underestimate the ongoing impact of sin, even in the life of the believer. Scripture itself should have alerted us to the fact that conversion to Christ does not mean an end to the ongoing presence of sin.

Now, you’ll find that evangelical preachers will say that they are still sinners. But the sheer disbelief with which we have treated the news that one of our number has committed a foul act gives the lie.

I know of instances where the clergy simply closed ranks around the accused because the person involved was a ‘good chap’, active in church politics and had grown a church. He couldn’t possibly do something like that, could he? And isn’t the victim a bit unhinged?

Well no, she wasn’t; and yes, he could. The devastation wrought by these acts persists, decades on.

This is an over-optimistic view of sanctification, and especially the sanctification achieved by someone when they become a pastor.

There is also often a failure to recognise the way that power corrupts the best of us – even ecclesiastical power. The ministry can accrue to itself a kind of aura of incorruptible holiness. That title ‘Rev’ can be an indicator of spiritual pride, alas. Speaking as someone who has served in pastoral ministry, it is dangerously intoxicating to have people trusting you and asking you questions and depending on you. People believe what you say. I can see how it easily gets out of hand.

If we really believed in the doctrine of the fall, Christian organisations would be more zealous, not less, in the kind of checks and balances that they set up for their ministers. If we understood that Christian sanctification does not by any stretch mean a kind of perfectibility, then we wouldn’t be so trusting. And knowing this is the case, most ministers ought to welcome the extra scrutiny in the name of protecting the vulnerable.

But there’s another theological misunderstanding, and that’s to do with the nature of forgiveness. We certainly want to believe that a person who is guilty of even the worst of these acts is forgivable. Anyone can make a mistake – anyone and everyone does sin. And does not the death of Jesus on the cross cover even the sins of a Zacchaeus or a prodigal son? Is it not true that there is no end to the forgiveness of God? And if God has forgiven a person, shouldn’t we also show them mercy?

That’s a half-truth which is as dangerous as any going around. The gospel of Jesus tells us that no-one is beyond the pale as far as forgiveness goes. That’s one of the most powerful things about it. However: declaring that someone is forgiven is not the same as giving them complete trust again. Human forgiveness is not capable of mending the brokenness of people to the degree that the child abuser ought to be trusted around children. In fact, a sign of the repentance of the sinner is their willingness to be mended, and to subject themselves to the discipline required to not sin again. The ministry and the status it brings has become an idol, it seems, such that the apparent rights of a person to remain ‘in ministry’ trump what is right and good and true, and even the protection of the innocent victim.

That’s the danger, too, of a faulty eschatology (the doctrine of the last things). The promises of Scripture are not that the coming of the Holy Spirit marked the final restoration and consummation of all things. It was only the beginning of the end, not the end itself. Recognising that a repentant sinner is forgiven because of the cross of Christ is not the same as giving them complete trust again ahead of the final judgment of God. Insisting that an abuser be brought to the bar of human justice, even when they say they are sorry, is not a denial of their final forgiveness. It is an appropriate demand, even while recognising that human justice is not the final word.

It is shameful that it has taken the secular world to insist that the churches open themselves to scrutiny here. Too often, churches have failed to realise that they have damaged their witness by hiding behind the skirts of lawyers and being instructed by insurance companies. Now, like Cardinal Pell, I would want the truth to come out – including the good work that has been done to counter the problem in various churches since the mid-1990s. That should not be forgotten.

But the church of Jesus Christ is a confessing church. It meets on the basis of a mutual need for the work of Jesus Christ on the cross. Of all human communities, it should be willing to admit its own fallibility, its own mistakes and its own limited moral vision. That’s what it is, by nature, after all.

So I think we ought to welcome this Royal Commission as a chance to bring justice to the victims (as far as possible), to clear the air and start again – this time with systems in place that will minimise the damage that the misbehaviour of individuals will cause. The secular world is watching carefully: will the churches seek justice and truth, or will they seek to hide behind their privileges and exemptions?