Still Crying in Silence: When the Church Goes Quiet, Survivors Pay the Price

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.

This is exactly what we’re seeing now in the fallout of the Soul Survivor scandal. The abuse, the grooming, the manipulation, the spiritual coercion at the hands of Mike Pilavachi, it’s all been exposed. And yet, in the months since, we’re met not with courage or confession, but with evasion and eerie quiet.

When the proverbial altar call ended, when the last worship concert faded, when the mainstage collapsed, where did everyone go?

Where are the voices of Andy Croft, Tim Hughes, Pete Hughes, men who rose to prominence within the Soul Survivor machine, who shared the stage, the influence, the brand power? Many have admitted they “knew something wasn’t right,” but that admission, without full ownership and disclosure, is not enough. Vague awareness is not a shield from accountability.

They flourished in a system that now stands accused of systemic abuse, and they remain, for the most part, silent. This isn’t a call for humiliation. This is a call for integrity. For truth. For vulnerability. Because you cannot share in the fruit and deny the rot in the roots.

What About Matt Redman?

Matt Redman is, undeniably, a victim too. One of the few who has publicly spoken about his own experiences of abuse under Mike Pilavachi’s leadership. Together with his wife, Beth Redman, he released a documentary that was raw and moving, and for that, he deserves credit. It takes courage to speak out.

But it also must be said: it’s difficult to challenge someone who has been both hurt by and part of the very system that caused so much damage. That’s the complicated, painful tension Matt Redman finds himself in. And yet, from many survivors’ perspectives, the version of events presented in the documentary felt carefully curated, edited in a way that offered some truth, but not all of it.

And a half-truth, no matter how heartfelt, still leaves gaps. Still leaves questions. Still leaves others behind.

We cannot ignore the fact that Matt remains a hugely influential Christian figure. His platform still holds enormous reach. And when you’ve had that kind of power and cultural capital within the church, there’s an ethical responsibility to use it, not just to tell your part, but to help tell the whole story. To elevate others. To shine a light into all the shadows. That is how true healing begins.

This isn’t about demanding perfection or expecting the wounded to become whistleblowers. But it is about recognising that when only parts of the story are told, the system wins. Silence - intentional or not - benefits abusers, not survivors.

Mike Pilavachi: The Vanishing Act

And of course, we cannot forget the man at the centre of it all. Where is Mike Pilavachi now?

From what we’ve heard, he’s left the country. Retired quietly. No open apology. No restorative dialogue. No reckoning with those who gave him their hearts, their teenage years, their trust. The man who once demanded vulnerability from his followers, who stood as a father figure to thousands, now hides. He encouraged confession, yet he offers none. He demanded openness, yet lives in retreat, in hiding.

This is the pattern. And it’s devastating.

Meanwhile, Soul Survivor Watford still meets. The building still stands. The name still echoes. But what does that say to those who were abused, manipulated, discarded? That business continues as usual? That it’s possible to carry on, to worship, to serve, to rebuild - as though the whole thing wasn’t built on a foundation of fear and coercion?

This Is Not Okay.

We are still crying in silence. And what makes it worse is not just what happened but how few people with power are willing to sit in the aftermath with us.

To those who led, who witnessed, who benefited: this is not about revenge. It’s about responsibility. You were there when the stages were full, why are you gone now that the truth is out and the crowds of wounded people would like to see you?

And to the Church of England: Your silence has consequences. It’s not neutral. It’s not pastoral. It’s not safe. It is a tactic, and it’s working, for you. But it is destroying others in the process.

This is your moment to break that cycle. To stop hiding behind committees and safeguarding reviews and start speaking up. Because if you wait long enough and say little enough and protect the right people - yes, the press will move on.

But we won’t.

There Is Still Hope

There is always hope. But hope requires truth. Not spin. Not half-statements. Not Instagram carousels and PR-crafted confessions.

Hope means real, gut-wrenching vulnerability. It means risk. It means telling the whole story, even if it costs you something. Especially if it costs you something.

To every survivor: You are not alone. You never were. Your pain matters. Your story matters. We will not be silenced.

To those still watching from the sidelines, wondering if it’s time to speak:

NOW WOULD BE GOOD!

If you’ve been affected by the Soul Survivor scandal or have something to share, Soul Survived is a space for you. We tell the truth, even when others won’t. Join us. Let’s bring it all into the light.