Part II of the blog post, “Faith Betrayed”

During those days, the neighborhood kids would gather in front of the grocery store for games like kickball, hopscotch, and tag. It was where some of my best childhood memories were made—playing freely in the streets with friends. Whenever hunger or thirst struck, we’d dash into the store for a snack or a drink, making sure Nelson’s wife was around. But sometimes, despite her presence, Nelson would find sneaky ways to expose himself to us or try to lure us into using his restroom.

I remember feeling both scared of him and torn because I just wanted to have fun with my friends. But Iris, always the bravest, had had enough. She pulled me aside to talk about telling her mom everything—the unwanted touching, Nelson’s indecent exposure. She was tired of being afraid and wanted my support when she spoke up.

That moment in Iris’ kitchen is etched in my memory. She blurted out the truth to her mother while she cooked. She didn’t hold back, laying out every detail—the groping, the exposure, Nelson’s inappropriate behavior. She was brave and honest, while I felt a mix of admiration and fear, knowing I’d have to tell my own mom soon. I was scared of her reaction and worried about what God might think. Nelson had made us believe that speaking out would lead to disbelief or punishment.

Unfortunately, Iris’ mother reacted just as Nelson predicted. She dismissed our words, calling us liars and scolding us for tarnishing the reputation of a “man of God.” She warned us not to speak of it again, leaving us feeling defeated and confused, silenced for fear of God’s judgment.

The abuse continued until Nelson was promoted and moved away. Time has blurred the details, but the feeling of spiritual unease remains—a fear that speaking up might distance me from God. It’s another reminder of feeling like an outsider in a world that sometimes feels disconnected from me.