If the MasterChef situation tells us anything, it’s this: charisma does not cancel out harm. Talent doesn’t negate toxicity. And public platform, no matter how inspirational it may seem, should never be a shield for abusive power. And yet, that shield has been wielded for decades within the charismatic evangelical movement and perhaps nowhere more prominently than in the case of Mike Pilavachi and Soul Survivor.

What I got was not what was advertised and I want my money back plus interest, because the emotional and spiritual cost of what Soul Survivor did and what it covered up has compounded with every year of silence, evasion, and gaslighting. This isn’t just about money. (Though frankly, it would help with the counselling bills.) This is about making them look me in the eye and admit: you broke the contract. You broke me. And you’re still pretending I wasn’t even there.

There’s a tactic as old as the institution itself.

Say as little as possible. Let the outrage pass. Wait until the press moves on. And it always does. When the headlines cool and there’s no money left to chase, silence becomes a strategy. One that the Church of England, along with countless evangelical leaders and networks has seemingly perfected.

When someone is convicted of a crime in a court of law, there comes a moment that is often more powerful than the sentencing itself. It is the moment when the victim or their loved one, stand up and read a victim impact statement.

These statements are not about justice in the legal sense. They are about truth. They are about confronting power with pain. They are about saying: this is what you did to me, and this is what I now have to live with.

A disturbing pattern has unfolded: a slow drip of non-answers, carefully controlled statements, a reshuffling of internal players, and a clear reluctance to reckon with the depth of the damage.

If you thought this would be a season of repentance, radical transparency, and true reformation, you would have been gravely mistaken.

It is imperative that both Mike Pilavachi and Soul Survivor take unequivocal steps to address the harm caused. Pilavachi must come out of hiding, confront the allegations, and engage directly with those he has wronged. Soul Survivor must move beyond perfunctory apologies and implement robust support systems for survivors, ensuring they are not left to “fend for themselves” in the aftermath.

The organisation must acknowledge its role in enabling his behaviour and take concrete steps to support survivors and implement robust safeguarding measures. Ignoring the past only perpetuates the cycle of abuse and erodes the credibility of Christian institutions.

The worship at Soul Survivor Watford that I have witnessed online seems to me to have become nothing more than a well-meaning but ultimately ineffective distraction. The worship sets are rehearsed, polished, and emotionally charged, but it feels like the church is trying to mask its guilt through repetition and theatrics rather than addressing the decades of hurt and trauma caused by the scandal.

There’s a sense that, rather than focusing on the needs of those affected, the worship songs are a way to mask the deafening silence that should be filled with apologies, accountability, and genuine lament. When the church should be facing the consequences of its actions, it instead offers catchy choruses and a veneer of spiritual activity.

They need to investigate, openly and honestly, why so many people failed to act. How did Pilavachi get away with this for so long? Who knew what, and when? And what structures are in place now to ensure nothing like this ever happens again?

Because if they don’t, history will repeat itself. Silence is complicity. And right now, far too many people are still staying silent.

Perhaps the most glaring issue in all of this is the failure to centre the voices of the victims. The report detailed stories of young men who were coerced into massage sessions under the guise of spiritual mentorship. Others were belittled, manipulated, and shamed. The pain these individuals have carried for years cannot be overstated.

Where is the outcry from the leaders who claim to care for the vulnerable? Where is the public acknowledgment of the church’s failure to protect its own? Every moment of silence adds to the burden these victims carry.

The revelations about Pilavachi have left a deep scar on the Soul Survivor movement and the thousands who once looked up to him. For many, the betrayal feels personal, a trusted figure who turned out to be anything but trustworthy.

Yet, amidst the anger and hurt, there is also an opportunity for reflection. How do we prevent this from happening again? How can religious institutions better protect the vulnerable? And how do we reconcile the good that Pilavachi may have done with the harm he caused?

What if, instead of viewing sexuality as a threat, the church saw it as a gift? What if it recognised that love, in all its forms, reflects the divine? The God I believe in is not limited by our narrow prejudices. God is vast, inclusive, and capable of holding the complexities of human identity.

Relying solely on internal mechanisms or reports commissioned by the very institutions under scrutiny is fraught with conflicts of interest. An investigation funded and controlled by the accused party lacks the objectivity required to uncover uncomfortable truths.

In the wake of the scandals surrounding Soul Survivor and its founder Mike Pilavachi, a question has lingered in the air: was it a cult? It’s a loaded question, one that might make some recoil and others nod grimly. But to really grapple with it, we need to unpack what makes something a cult and examine how Soul Survivor measures up.

Matt and Beth Redman’s courage in sharing their story is a vital step, but the work is far from over. The church, and all who seek truth and justice, must keep asking hard questions.

In the end, silence doesn’t absolve guilt, it amplifies it. Let’s ensure those who wield “No comment” as a weapon of evasion face a world that refuses to let them disappear into the quiet.

Mike Pilavachi, once a towering figure in global Christian youth ministry, has allegedly disappeared into the sun-dappled landscapes of Greece after decades of calculated, abusive behaviour were revealed. The founder of Soul Survivor, a UK-based Christian charity, Pilavachi presided over an empire that shaped the spiritual lives of thousands. But behind the worship music and charismatic leadership lay years of manipulation, coercion, and abuse.

What truths were buried by shutting this down? Was the podcast poised to expose systemic failures, unchecked abuse, or complicity at the highest levels? The lack of transparency only fuels suspicion that what lies hidden is far more damaging than anything already revealed.

If cancel culture - or something like it - is what it takes to expose these injustices and demand change, then perhaps the Church should embrace it. Not as a tool of vengeance, but as a means of ensuring justice and safeguarding the vulnerable.