Dozens protest against the handling of sexual abuse allegations at Greater Grace Church

They stood silently in front of the large black gates of the church and held up signs: Not in our city. No more silence. Do you see us now?

About 70 protesters – sexual abuse survivors, their relatives, friends and supporters – held a vigil outside Greater Grace World Outreach on Friday night as parishioners from around the world flocked to the church’s East Baltimore headquarters for an annual meeting.

“We are fighting for change,” says Sue Heidenreich, who spent years battling with church leaders to hold them accountable after her daughter testified that she had been sexually abused by a pastor at Greater Grace in Ghana, where the family served as missionaries.

“We all know these people,” she added, pointing to the hundreds of vehicles parked in the church’s vast complex. “These people were our friends.”

The protesters said they were mobilized by an investigation by the Baltimore Banner into child sexual abuse in the church, which has hundreds of affiliates around the world.

The Banner published a series of articles this month detailing claims by former church members that they were sexually abused by prominent church members. The abuse victims – and in many cases their parents – said that senior pastors at Greater Grace did not take the allegations seriously, downplayed them or pressured the victims to forgive them and move on.

The articles focused on the work of the Millstones, a group of former church members who began investigating child sexual abuse cases at Greater Grace more than four years ago. The Millstones say they have spoken to 32 people who claimed to have been sexually abused by a man at the church and three others who said they were manipulated or manipulated by an abuser. Trusted sources also told the Millstones about 18 other victims of abuse at the church.

Greater Grace officials issued a statement saying the church “fully cooperates with any investigations conducted by law enforcement or child care agencies.” Officials said they follow laws requiring adults to report “suspected or actual child abuse.”

“We welcome and support their intervention, expertise and authority in bringing perpetrators to justice for the protection of society,” church representatives said.

Pastor John Love, who has been criticized by some for his handling of abuse allegations, broke his silence on Friday and issued a written statement saying he had encouraged people with abuse allegations to “bring them into the light.”

He pointed out that he was not speaking on behalf of the church. “I am not trying, and have not tried, to discourage anyone from reporting abuse,” he wrote. “On the contrary, I make a sincere effort to fulfill my moral and legal obligation to report and address allegations of abuse.”

The pastor’s words rang hollow to protesters, some holding signs with photos of Love, Senior Pastor Thomas Schaller and Pastor Steven Scibelli, accusing them of knowing about the abuse.

Many protesters wore black T-shirts that read “Not another one.” Most of them were attending church for the first time in years.

“It’s like the worst high school reunion ever,” said Tiffany G, who flew from her home in Los Angeles to attend the protest.

But G, who grew up in Massachusetts and Baltimore as her parents followed church founder Carl Stevens, said she found strength in the presence of others who said they had been abused by church leaders.

“We all thought we were alone, we thought we were the only ones, but we’re not,” said G, who says she was abused by a pastor when she was a student at a church-affiliated school in Baltimore.

As congregants filed past the protesters, some waved, but many looked straight ahead, as if to avoid the gaze of former congregants. Some congregants – including Pastor Brian Lange of Baltimore, a pastor from New York and the wives of two prominent pastors – hugged some of the survivors and advocates.

A woman from the church lugged a crate of water bottles over. “Cold water from the Lord?” she asked. The protesters shook their heads; they had their own water. She left the crate on the median.

Erika Slater, who drove six hours from her home in upstate New York to attend the protest, said she felt like she was seeing “the next generation of survivors” driving into the complex in the backseats of her parents’ cars.

Slater, who said she was abused by a prominent pastor while a student at a Greater Grace-affiliated church in the early 1980s, said she believes the church’s teachings and practices are manipulative and harmful.

“There is no one here who is not a victim of psychological abuse,” she said.

Standing holding a poster with a photograph of her ex-husband, Jed Tanguay, who was sexually abused by a church youth leader in the 1990s, Sara Palmieri Tanguay said she could not stand the way she was treated by current members of the church, which she left about a decade ago when her husband filed charges against his abuser.

However, she hoped that her presence – and that of others – would send a powerful message to churchgoers.

“I want them to start doubting this seemingly unshakable trust in their leaders,” she said.

Inside the church, parishioners marched with flags of the countries in which they lived or served as missionaries. An electronic display board read: “From Baltimore to the End of the World!”

Nikki Heidenreich, the sister of a survivor and an organizer of the protest, said she imagined the outdoor gathering to be like a survivors’ parade – a somber contrast to the joyful procession inside the church.

Johanna Veader says she was bullied by a suburban branch pastor during her high school years, and she found it helpful to protest against the church where she had experienced so much suffering.

“I feel strong,” said Veader, who carried a sign that read, “My tormentor is still preaching in your name.”

Nearby, Ben Tanguay stood with his daughter Camden, a college sophomore. Ben Tanguay, like his brother Jed, was abused by youth leader Ray Fernandez. Fernandez was investigated by police, charged, convicted, and sentenced to prison.

Ben Tanguay held up a sign that simply said: “They knew.”

Ben Tanguay, a former pastor, and his four children stopped attending church about a decade ago, around the time he and his brother filed charges against their abuser.

“I don’t know what Greater Grace will do to protect their children,” he said. “But I know what I will do to protect mine.”