Tikkun’s Pastoral Response Was for Abusers, Not Survivors

This Monday, Tikkun Global released their Pastoral Response Team (PRT) Statement to the Firefly report. While it’s purportedly a third-party panel, every part of its formation carries the fingerprints of Tikkun. Dan Juster—founder and director of Tikkun International—hand-selected both the pastors and mental health experts who made up the PRT. He also oversaw the process himself. On every level, the PRT’s recommendations function as an extension of Tikkun’s own values.

I’ve been struggling to put words to the reactions I’m seeing, both from survivors, and from the wider community—many of whom are survivors of sexual and spiritual abuse at the International House of Prayer themselves.

If I were to distill it into one thing, it’s this: nothing about the PRT Statement was pastoral. At least, not for survivors. Not for the community. The only ones being pastored meaningfully were the abusers.

Of course discipline must be addressed—but where is it? The PRT’s overwhelming focus on leader restoration stands in stark contrast to the complete absence of meaningful justice for survivors. Nowhere in this report is there a true reckoning with the harm done, the institutional betrayal, or the lifelong impact of abuse. Instead, it casts doubt on the Firefly investigation—despite overwhelming corroboration—while leaving the door open for Mike Bickle to retain informal influence, ensuring he is never fully removed.

Tikkun didn’t just fail to close that door—it wedged itself into the frame and held it open for him.

It treats repentance as a private healing process for leaders rather than a call to accountability and restitution—as though the real tragedy is what abusers have lost, rather than what survivors have endured.

The recommendations are so minimal—and none outstrip the consequences already borne by victims. Public confession? Survivors had to expose their own pain to be believed. Therapy? Survivors have carried that cost for years. A two-year break from ministry? Most victims lost their entire communities, their faith, and their sense of safety, with no pathway back. And what psychologist in their right mind would provide a pathway back into “informal” ministry for a serial sexual predator—of MINORS?

Perhaps even more shockingly, the PRT treats the current IHOPKC board as a legitimate accountability structure—despite its ongoing failures. The Independent Council of Presbyters (ICP), which they recommend to oversee both leader discipline and survivors’ access to therapy, is not independent at all. It ultimately answers to the same IHOPKC board that has disparaged victims, labeled them “demonic,” and includes leaders who openly teach that wives must submit to abusive husbands—even if it costs them their lives. Even the funds for victim therapy come with strings attached—only available if survivors submit to an ICP process controlled by this very board.

And yet, the very people who bore the cost of speaking out—survivors—are given no voice in this proposed restoration process. Those who chose to come forward did so at great personal risk, and now they are excluded from the very conversations that determine whether the men who harmed them should be restored.

This is not pastoral. It’s not love. It’s not even accountability. It’s a framework for control—one designed not to bring true restoration, but to maintain the same power dynamics that often led to the abuses themselves. And that is profoundly dangerous.

The entire process did not just fail survivors—it betrayed an entire community. This investigation was funded out of deep care; many IHOPKC survivors themselves helped pay for it.

While it’s rumored that Tikkun gave $40,000 toward a $140,000 investigation, they never invested in the people who bore the real cost. They silenced a grieving community. They refused to carry survivors' pain, listen to their grief, or walk beside them. One has to wonder—was their money meant to show solidarity, or just clear a path for leader restoration? Because in the end, it didn’t heal the trust IHOPKC broke. It deepened the institutional betrayal.

People gave financially, emotionally, and personally to see the truth exposed. Tikkun dismissed that sacrifice. They disregarded the courage it took, the pain survivors endured, and the cost the community bore to make this investigation happen.

Worse, Tikkun made explicit commitments to survivors—and broke every single one. They said it wouldn’t be based on Juster’s book, but then used “Due Process” to cast doubt on the Firefly Report. They assured us that Ron Cantor, who had built trust within the community, would be involved. They promised to consult Rachael Denhollander in crafting their recommendations—a safeguard that the community fought for to prevent retraumatization.

Tikkun followed through on none of it.

And yet, despite failing to walk with survivors, despite breaking their word, despite not having sown an ounce of care into this community—Tikkun still had the audacity to declare what their healing should look like.

It is confounding arrogance to believe they could offer pastoral recommendations where they had invested nothing relationally. They refused to carry any of the cost, yet they presume to define restoration? Their words carry no weight because they have carried no burdens.

“They have treated the wounds of my people lightly”

And for that, they cannot be entrusted with healing.

This was not just a failure—it was a betrayal. A slap in the face—not only to survivors, but to the entire community, many of whom are survivors themselves. They stood behind Tikkun’s involvement in good faith, believing they could be part of a path toward justice—only to be dismissed, misled, and silenced.

If the PRT had truly wanted to see what pastoral care looks like, they wouldn’t have needed to look far. The ones who actually carried the burden have already modeled it. Survivors have modeled it. Advocates have modeled it. The wider community has modeled it.

Theirs are the hands marked by grief, stretched out in love to a grieving community—offering validation, corroboration, and truth. They did what true shepherds do: they ran to the wounded, cried out in warning, and opened their own scars so others might be believed. They pursued justice and truth—knowing full well the cost, but choosing love anyway

And they should never have had to.

A true pastoral response would have prioritized the wounded. It would have acknowledged the undeniable weight of the Firefly Investigation. It would have recognized the lifelong cost of abuse, and the danger coverup poses, and permanently disqualified abusers and those who enabled them. It would have given survivors a voice in the proposed accountability process—and in their own healing—instead of repeating the harm of institutional control and affirming the authority of an abusive board. It would have publicly, strongly, unflinchingly rebuked those who caused deep harm.

Instead, the PRT offered a framework where abusive leaders are shepherded back into ministry, and survivors are left to rebuild alone.

Woe to you shepherds of Israel who only take care of yourselves!
Should not shepherds take care of the flock?

This isn’t just a failure of the PRT—it’s a failure that spans institutions. It’s a damning indictment of the larger church’s unwillingness to stand with the wounded. Leaders don’t get to sit this one out. If they won’t reject these recommendations from Tikkun’s PRT outright, if they won’t demand true accountability, then they are complicit.

To survivors: We believe you. We stand with you. We reject—completely, without hesitation—any leader who does not protect you. They are NOT shepherds.

To the community: We grieve with you. We mourn the loss of the sanctuaries we once called home. We affirm your need for safe pastures.

To the wider church: Here lies the body of Christ, wounded—and you cannot look away. Will you tend the wounds? Will you stand with the broken? Or will you protect the ones who broke them?

To Leaders: Get off your platforms and walk beside us—even when it costs you. Justice belongs to those who see it through.