Slowly but inevitably, modern high-profile Christian ministries seem to collapse in upon themselves. Secular society has watched it happen so often over the decades of the twentieth century that the public degeneration of religious entities is almost grimly anticipated these days. I watched Hillsong’s recent fall with horror and, unfortunately, a degree of cynicism. I never expected, however, I’d watch scandal arrive at Soul Survivor’s door.

I started calling myself a Christian in the mid-1990s. Soul Survivor was by then a couple of years into its journey. I had no idea about Christian music as a genre (which it should never have become, in my opinion), but I was introduced to the songs of Matt Redman sometime in late 1996. I learned quickly about Matt, Mike Pilavachi, Kevin Prosch and Delirious, and felt a burgeoning excitement: something was happening in the world, something young, exciting and urgent, all to do with this Jesus guy.

As a musician and songwriter, it was Matt Redman’s songs that spoke to me most of all. To this day, no songwriter has impacted my faith more deeply than Matt. He was and is the most honest ‘Christian’ musician I ever met. How he managed to retain his integrity within a system so profoundly overcome by showbiz is a testament to his character. I was very pleased and more than a little amazed to be invited over time into Matt’s world: we became friends, and my relatively short journey inside Soul Survivor began.

I didn’t care for all the movement’s ways, and in those zealous first few years of my faith I couldn’t quite work out why. It’s taken me two decades to learn some of the deeper truths about religious faith, including one that Christian leaders seem to think is anathema: “if many people agree with you, you’re probably doing something wrong”. You can argue the merits of that one for a long time. For me, Jesus’s persistent refusal of anything other than servant-leadership is one of the many reasons why I choose to follow him. My instinct as I get older is that spiritual faith is a gentle, near-invisible way through the world, and that if you need a microphone, something’s gone awry. At Soul Survivor’s big nightly preaches, I mostly felt lost, unmoved and in the wrong tent.

Soul Survivor took on the world. It all got impressively massive. Matt’s quiet songs of devotion ended up defining a generation. It all felt grand, and I was excited to be a small part of it, playing guitar in Matt’s band and even on a few recordings. Matt, and consequently Mike Pilavachi, embraced the fledgling band I led called Tree, and exposed us to the whole Soul Survivor audience. Tree’s international journey started there, in Shepton Mallet, summer 1998. Tree’s odyssey to America and back is the subject of another story, but needless to say, it’s one of heartbreak, steadily diminishing returns, naivety, betrayal and, ultimately, crushing disappointment. All of which make for a healthy lesson in the realities of trying to be a person of faith.

All that, and a few instances of healthy good fortune, lay before me in the summer of ‘98. Mike Pilavachi in particular made sure I was included, encouraged and welcome on Matt’s team. As a believer very young in my faith, I took this all personally and was very flattered. I also began to believe, thanks to Mike, that I was somehow ‘chosen’. Not necessarily by God (although that’s the implication when an influential Christian leader taps you on the shoulder), but by Mike himself, by Soul Survivor, by Matt, by the Church, by the movement, by the Spirit. I felt seen, appreciated, noticed. I felt special.

That, it turns out, is not the way of Christ. Sure, when we come to faith we learn that God actually sees us, that we matter to God, that our intuition that we might be somehow ‘beloved’ and even ‘necessary’ is correct. When that affirmation comes from another human being, however (especially an ‘important’ one), the temptation is to take it very personally. In the summer of ‘98, I was a young, anxious, bewildered man, desperately searching for meaning and belonging. I got that all at Soul Survivor. Not just from Mike Pilavachi, but certainly enough from him to encourage my conviction that Mike was an influence for the good.

Recent revelations have shown that that was Mike Pilavachi’s modus operandi: singling out people (mostly young men) to hang around with and ‘do ministry with’. I certainly wasn’t “one of Pilly’s boys”, but I remember distinctly feeling very included. It was exhilarating being a part of such an influential movement. I went on big trips around South Africa with Mike and Matt. I was very privileged. As it turns out, those were the very last days of it all being quite magic: Matt split away from Mike within a year or so, something I couldn’t get my head around. They were a double-act: why the divorce?

Matt’s decision to speak up recently in light of the ongoing investigation into Mike Pilavachi (and in response to Mike’s recent woefully-inadequate statement) is brave and considered. And more than a little distressing. But not, I’m sorry to say, particularly revelatory. My friend was a young, traumatized man in need of a father-figure. Mike was, it seems, an ambitious bully. Of course there was going to be a level of toxicity in their relationship. The fact that Mike’s dealings with Matt set the template for another two decades’ worth of abuse makes it all the more dismal.

I didn’t see this coming. When a friend told me of the revelations about Mike earlier this year, I was genuinely shocked. Not for long: the more I read, the more I heard about the people damaged by Mike Pilavachi, the more sense it all started to make. I’m not a victim by any means, but I feel deeply for those who are. As Matt has admitted, it takes years to heal from abuse, and there is a long painful journey ahead for many, many people. There is one area, however, in which Mike’s toxicity extends its tendrils to me, and that is in the area of faith.

I’m still wrestling with this. No doubt I will for some time. Does Mike Pilavachi’s fall from grace have implications for my vision of God? How woven into the fabric of my faith is Soul Survivor’s image of Jesus? Have I built my life on proverbial sinking sand? Mike’s disgrace rocks many millions of peoples’ spiritual foundations. Those who were physically abused of course are the most traumatized. But Mike also made victims out of those he made feel special, seen, included, necessary, chosen, significant. He made us all feel like God saw us. He made us feel that God sought us out personally, like a shepherd in search of a lost lamb. Was it all an awful misjudgment? Now that we know what Mike was up to, what do we make of God?

Did God lie to us? That seems to be one of the major fall-outs of spiritual abuse: was it all a big hoax? You’ll be able to answer that question for yourself based on how far into your journey you are. If you become a believer as the result of the influence of a great and powerful human being, God help you. It’s terrible to say, but it’s much harder to stay the course of faith when you’ve been converted into it by a person that goes on to belie those convictions with their lifestyle. Human beings simply do not belong in positions of elevated glory. Isn’t that why even Jesus himself rejected crowns, time after time?

Many have already written about how they fell away from faith as a result of their experiences at Soul Survivor. Staff members, interns, coordinators, volunteers: so many made contact with Mike Pilavachi’s ministry and rejected Jesus as a result. That’s enough of an indictment right there. As for me? There was a time later on during the Tree saga where I began to feel spat out. I walked away from Tree and Christian music. I needed to, if I wanted to find God. It was Matt Redman himself who encouraged me to walk. He could see how miserable I’d become. I owe him a lot. Eventually, I found a path through the debris toward God that sustains me to this day. There’s no organization that informs it, it has no theme songs, it’s just a quiet, solitary walk along a narrow, overgrown track. It suits me fine. I’m not a victim. My faith is not Mike Pilavachi’s to spoil.

That’s just me, however. There are many thousands who are disgusted with ‘God’ as a result of Soul Survivor. Or of Hillsong. Or of Jim and Tammy Bakker. Make a list, there’s plenty of all-too-human naked emperors out there. There are preachers and youth leaders at it right now, as you read this. We’ll read about them soon enough, unfortunately. The temptation for power and glory is too strong. How do people of faith recover some shred of God from the machinations of human beings who claim to represent him? Indeed, how do our souls survive? Christians need to do better. Leaders need to do better. Being a person of influence almost precludes you from being a person of deep faith. That’s a major generalization, I know, but I’ve lived it. It’s not a sustainable journey. Still, none of this should be a surprise: God’s warnings are as old as the Bible.

I’m heartbroken about Soul Survivor. I’m heartbroken that my old friend Matt Redman’s fragile heart is still broken. I’m desperately sad that my old friend Mike Pilavachi lied to himself, to others, to me for so long and still can’t acknowledge it. Hope is a delicate thing. Even in the best of times, life is not a straightforward enterprise. We need all the help, all the hope we can muster. Those who give their lives to the mustering need to gently resist being celebrated for it.