The youth pastor tore pages right out of the Bible. None of the youth group members could believe what they were witnessing. The pages of Leviticus fluttered to the ground with hardly a sound.

He had asked them what was next after Genesis and Exodus. Unlike the first two books, no one had spoken up. They had waited for someone else to answer. Now only a few remaining pages of Leviticus were stuck to the binding, and the youth pastor had their complete and undivided attention.

“Who can tell me what Numbers is all about?”

No one moved. The students were still in shock. Their eyes were fixed on the torn Bible. They tried as hard as they could to recall what Numbers was about, but they couldn’t. Rip. The Book of Numbers joined Leviticus on the floor.

Now the students were desperate to save as much of the Bible as they could, but they fared poorly for the next 40 minutes. By this time, only one-eighth of the book remained in its binder.

“What I am doing to this Bible is nothing compared to what you are doing to yours,” said the youth pastor. “At least mine is being put to good use.” Then he stormed out of the room.

I am embarrassed to admit that youth pastor was me.

My intentions were good. I wanted the best for my students. I had hoped to instill in them a passion to read their Bibles. Instead, I left them feeling guilty and ashamed, believing they couldn’t measure up to the standard I had placed on them. Welcome to the world of spiritual abuse, which happens whenever leaders use Scripture to gain power or authority over others. For example:

“God won’t bless you unless you give 10 percent.”

“God says to honor your mother and father, so you’d better obey me.”

Some of the worst spiritual abuse is done by well-meaning youth pastors who have good intentions, love God passionately and long for their students to know and love God deeply.

Early in my ministry, I focused on my students’ behaviors and performance rather than on their faith. I thought if they attended church regularly, read their Bibles daily and brought their friends as often as they could, they’d grow in love and knowledge of God.

There’s nothing wrong with desiring these things for our students, but when we teach our students to believe that doing is more important than being, they’ll conclude religious performance is goal number one.

There’s more to faith than behavior. Attending church and reading the Bible can lead to spiritual maturity, but those acts in and of themselves don’t make one spiritually mature. Wouldn’t we be better off demonstrating what it’s like to be a follower of Christ?

To make matters worse, parents (and our employers) expect us to control kids’ behavior. Plus, many of the adults we work with have accepted a performance-oriented approach to faith. Understandably, most youth workers consider the actions of their students to be a definitive measure of success.  As long as our students behave well, we receive praise, increased budgets and raises.

Unfortunately, my emphasis on students’ behavior convinced them they had to do right to be good Christians. If they didn’t meet my expectations for them, they felt tremendous shame and guilt and left feeling as if they never truly could measure up to this thing we call Christianity.

Spirituality in Action
Several years ago, I talked with a student who had attended the Bible-ripping session, as it has come to be known. He told me it took him several years to recover from the experience. His image of God had to be repaired so he could feel that God would love and accept him just as he is.

Fortunately, there’s a happy ending. I asked him for forgiveness, which he readily gave. Our conversation then moved on to our own spiritual journeys—the good, the bad and the not-so-pretty. It was healing for us to discuss our struggles and triumphs.

It was true spirituality in action. I only wish that’s what I had done with my students 15 years ago.

Don Perini is associate professor of Youth Ministry and Creativity at Cornerstone University in Grand Rapids, Michigan. This article is a revised version of the article he wrote for YouthWorker Journal in 2004.