Performative Peace: Grace is Not the Absence of Consequences

Picture this: You were told to trust the people around you, respect authority, and protect the family. You thought you were doing the godly thing, so you kept your head down and convinced yourself that the conviction you felt must be your own paranoia. Then one day you realize you were a puppet in someone else’s crafted story. The truth got too ugly, so a polished narrative was created, and you were expected to simply go along with what you were told.

​The story I am sharing today involves a family who only up until recently discovered how deep the manipulation had grown. They weren’t allowed to set boundaries or ask questions. When they did push back, they were met with an ideology that teaches that family image means sacrificing personal relationships and your own intuition. Deidra Kleintop Heisler is determined to break the cycle of secrecy and create a generational blessing for her family. A family that is not burdened by a dark secret but free to bring awareness into the light.  

Deidra and Justin's Story:

When I was in college, my parents’ pastor and his wife dropped the biggest bombshell of my 18-year-old life: My boyfriend’s dad—someone I had grown up with my entire life—had been arrested.

Not for a petty crime, but for attempting to lure a high school girl into his truck at a school bus stop. He admitted to the police that his goal was to have sex with her, even though he knew she was waiting to get on the bus to go to high school.

I looked at them and asked, “Does Justin know?”

They said no. He was told later that day by the Dean of the Chapel and a close family friend at Indiana Wesleyan University. Justin was devastated when he found out. He wasn't just dealing with the shock of learning that his dad had been arrested; he was a criminal justice major who hoped to become a career-long law enforcement officer. Suddenly, one of the people closest to him was a danger not only to others, but to his future. Over and over, Justin told me, “It’s okay if you want to break up with me.”

It broke my heart.

I told him, “Your dad’s crime doesn’t reflect on you. I’m dating you, not your dad. Whatever this next chapter brings, we’re going to handle it together.” At the time, I thought the hardest part would be helping Justin deal with what his father had done. I had no idea how much more was about to come out.

I was talking with Justin’s aunt and mentioned that I was surprised my best friend hadn’t asked me about the arrest. She looked at me and said, “Well, I don’t think she’s going to ask you about it because of what happened to her.” Then she told me that my future father-in-law had approached my best friend months earlier and tried to initiate a sexual encounter with her.

The second bombshell of the week had just gone off.

This had been my best friend for fifteen years. She had grown up with Justin and knew his family well. And now I knew that he had targeted her, too. But I was told not to tell her that I knew. I wasn't supposed to bring it up unless she approached me first. I remember thinking: How am I supposed to go through this without talking to my best friend? The family was already trying to control the fallout, and I would spend years learning what that kind of protection would cost.

In the months between his arrest and his court date, more information came out. He had a severe pornography addiction and had been pursuing and stalking women for years. The women he targeted were getting younger and younger. From the outside, my in-laws had appeared to have a nearly perfect Christian marriage. No one suspected what was happening behind closed doors. Then came his court date.

The day before, our family gathered for a special prayer time. The pastor prayed that God would find favor with him because he had repented and that he would not receive jail time.

The victim, a 15-year-old girl, stood before the judge and read her statement. She explained that she used to feel safe walking to her bus stop and being alone at home. Now she constantly has to look around to see if someone is watching or following her. Even walking to the bus stop frightened her.

Then my mother-in-law read her statement. She talked about their family, their retirement savings, and their children being in college. She emphasized that their other son was getting married and her husband couldn't miss the wedding. My father-in-law apologized and said counseling had helped him. I don't remember him directly apologizing to the victim.

He was sentenced to a year in jail and required to register under Megan’s Law. He was granted furlough for Justin’s brother’s wedding. When the verdict was read, the bailiff handcuffed him and led him away. He looked shocked. He hadn't expected to go to jail. He admitted he was wrong, so why should he be punished? After all, he hadn't actually touched the girl.

That moment has stayed with me because it revealed something I didn't understand at the time: He seemed to believe that being sorry should be enough to eliminate the consequences.

But consequences don’t simply disappear because of grace. They are often the result of our choices. And that distinction would become one of the most important lessons of my life. Sadly, many people have not learned this, and victim-shaming is a result of the lack of accountability.

I still remember some of the random comments from the Christian relatives in attendance in the courtroom:

“Did you see the low-cut shirt the victim was wearing? She looked slutty in that outfit. She didn’t even look like a high schooler. You can’t blame him for thinking she was over 18. Why didn’t that mother make her dress more appropriate? She should have been wearing a dress, not tight dress pants. I don’t understand why she’s afraid to walk to the bus stop. It’s not like he threw her in the truck and raped her. Her statement was completely overly dramatic to make the judge feel bad for her.”  

This way of thinking creates an unsafe environment for everyone.

One night, while he was in jail, he called to apologize to each of us. He asked for our forgiveness. I was 19 years old. Everyone was staring at me, and I had been raised as a Christian who was supposed to forgive. So I said, “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Justin and I visited his dad in jail. It was awkward talking through the glass, and we weren't there because we enjoyed it. We were expected to make him feel better. Justin’s brother chose not to visit their dad while he was in jail. It seemed like there were two different sets of rules. One son was allowed to deal with the trauma however he wanted, while Justin and I were expected to put on a happy face and help everyone else feel okay.

A few weeks before Justin’s brother’s wedding, the entire family met with church leaders and counselors to prepare for my future father-in-law's return. The goal was to help him transition back into life and ensure the family could function as though everything were normal.

During that meeting, I asked the question that mattered most to me: “What do we do when we have kids? Since he is serving time on Megan’s Law and isn’t legally allowed to be around children. How do we navigate this when we get married and start a family?”

The counselor told us that he was safe around family because he had never gone after his sons, a niece, or a nephew. He had asked God for forgiveness, so he was considered safe. That answer never sat right with me, so Justin and I made our own rule: our children would never be left alone with his father. Forgiveness doesn’t mean blind trust, and repentance doesn’t mean unrestricted access. But the family and church continued to struggle with the consequences of his actions. People wanted to believe that because he had repented and served his time, everything should eventually return to normal.

But what about everyone else?

What about the girl who was afraid to walk to the bus stop?

What about my best friend?

What about my children who might someday be around him?

I was beginning to realize that those consequences were not the problem. The problem was that everyone wanted the consequences to disappear. Then my wedding became another casualty of his crime.

My best friend was already in counseling because of what my future father-in-law had done to her. She was extremely uncomfortable being around him. I was told I should give her the option to step down as my matron of honor. What I didn’t know at the time was that people were working behind the scenes with her counselor to persuade her to withdraw so it would look like the decision was entirely hers.

Eventually, she came to my house and told me she wasn’t comfortable being around him and had decided to step down as matron of honor. She still wanted to attend the wedding. She still wanted to be part of the bridal party. But she couldn’t stand beside me at the altar with him present.

Once again, we were protecting the sex offender.

This was our wedding, and I lost the chance to have my closest friend of fifteen years standing beside me because of what he had done and because the people around us were more concerned with managing his discomfort than protecting the person he had harmed. Looking back, that was one of the clearest examples of how the priorities had become backward. The person who had caused the harm was accommodated. The person who had been harmed was the one who had to leave.

The church’s response became increasingly difficult for me to understand. Some people at church didn’t want him around children. Others believed he should be removed from the church altogether. Instead, the leadership tried to find a way to adjust for him. Eventually, he was back singing in the choir and serving on the worship team.

Justin and I were teaching a second-grade Sunday school class when he showed up outside our classroom. I knew he wasn’t supposed to be in that hallway, and I felt responsible for protecting the children in our class. I told him he needed to leave, but nothing meaningful happened as a result. The message seemed to be that everyone else should pivot to his presence. We were still expected to forgive him, welcome him, and eventually treat him as though everything was normal.

Later, Justin and I were referred to another pastor for marriage counseling because we had questions about raising children around a registered sex offender. Thankfully, he gave us very different advice. He told us that we were doing the right thing by refusing to leave our children alone with him. That gave us permission to trust the instinct we had been fighting all along.

Still, the pressure continued. The family believed he had changed, and the church wanted restoration. Everyone wanted the story to have a happy ending, but restoration is not the same thing as unlimited access.

You can forgive someone without giving them the same level of trust they had before.

You can believe someone has genuinely repented and still maintain healthy limits.

We didn't understand all of that then; we just knew we were parents who wanted to protect our future children. Eventually, we would have to defend those boundaries over and over again.

While all of this was happening, Justin was pursuing his dream of becoming a law enforcement officer. The application process took almost two years, and one of the most important parts was the background investigation. Because of his father’s criminal history, Justin’s background investigator had serious concerns about whether he should be hired. The investigator called me and conducted a phone interview that lasted more than two hours.

At first, the questions were ordinary: how Justin and I met, how long we had known each other, our engagement, and our plans for the future. Then there was a serious shift in the conversation.

Did Justin believe what his father had done was wrong?

Did Justin show any characteristics similar to his father?

Then came the question that still makes me uncomfortable:

“Does Justin show a sexual interest in young girls like his father?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

The investigator was trying to determine whether Justin’s father’s behavior revealed anything about Justin. He even went as far as to ask us about our sex life. We were waiting until marriage, but I simply said things were normal. It was humiliating, but after I read the Morning Call article about what his father had done, I understood why he had to ask.

Justin ultimately passed the background investigation and went on to achieve his dream job of being a law enforcement officer. We never told his parents how close his father had come to affecting Justin’s career.

Why?

Because we couldn't make him feel bad. After all, he had suffered enough by serving a six-month sentence.

He had committed the crime.

He had gone to jail.

And somehow, we were still worried about hurting his feelings by telling him that his choices had almost cost his son his dream career. That was when I began to understand how distorted our thinking had become.

We weren't just protecting him from consequences.

We were protecting him from knowing about the consequences.

Years passed, and Justin and I continued to hold the same boundary: His father was never to be alone with our children. We allowed our children to spend time with their grandparents when we were confident that another trusted adult was present. The family often treated that boundary as though we were punishing him.

Then one day, my mother-in-law asked if she could have our four-year-old daughter at her house for the day. I said yes. She was used to spending time with Grandma. When they brought her home later, she told me about their day. She had gone to the hardware store. Grandma and she often ran errands together, so I didn't think anything of it. Several weeks later, while I was driving her home from preschool, she pointed out a gas station.

“Mom, do you see that gas station? I went there with Papa.”

I asked her what she meant.

She explained that Grandma had told her to go with Papa to the hardware store and the gas station while Grandma stayed home baking cookies.

My stomach dropped.

He wasn't allowed to be alone with her.

He had not only taken her places by himself, but he had also picked her up by himself. The boundary we had spent years defending had been violated. Suddenly, I saw everything differently.

For years, we had been told that he was safe. That he had repented and God had forgiven him. He had served his time, so we needed to move forward. What had actually happened was that we had slowly been conditioned to stop taking the boundaries seriously.

We asked our daughter age-appropriate questions to make sure she was okay and immediately changed our boundaries. Our children would never be around him again. And Grandma would no longer have unsupervised access to our children either.

Their safety comes first. Without exception.

Then, this summer, I was on a boat at Beltzville Lake with my husband and children when a memory suddenly came back to me. I was 16. Our families had spent the day together on the lake. I was jumping into the water and climbing back onto the boat. As I pulled myself out of the water, I noticed him sitting on the back cushion, staring at my chest. I remember thinking about how I could climb out of the water without exposing myself to him. The next time I climbed out, I tried to cover myself with one arm. He never moved. I eventually stopped jumping into the water. At the time, I had been taught that women could cause men to lust by wearing inappropriate clothing.

But I was a teenager. He was an adult. Looking back now, I realize it was never just one incident. The church taught us to excuse, minimize, forgive, and stay silent. For years, we did exactly that.

Our sons are now 13, 10, and 8. This spring, a truck was driving around our township and stopping near elementary school bus stops. My husband sent me the description and told me to warn the kids. My oldest asked, “What kind of man drives around looking for children at bus stops?”

I told him the truth. “A man who wants to lure them into his truck and hurt them.”

My 13-year-old looked at me and said, “What a perv.”

It was a full-circle moment. My children still don't know about their grandfather, but the time for silence is over. They will eventually learn the truth not because I want to shame their grandfather, but because they deserve to understand why our boundaries exist.

They will learn that forgiveness does not erase consequences and that repentance does not automatically restore trust. Grace does not require us to ignore danger. Protecting vulnerable people sometimes means allowing someone to live with the consequences of their own choices.

For twenty years, we were taught that the consequences of his sin were the problem. I believe now that the consequences were never the problem. They were part of the protection.

We protected the predator's comfort while asking everyone else to carry the weight of his choices. Our family was forced to navigate years of fear, secrecy, and manipulation. Then eventually, our four-year-old daughter was placed in a situation we had explicitly said could

never happen.

That ends with us.

The cycle of silence and protection ends here.

______

After learning the full scope of this story, my heart was heavy. I believe in restoration, but I also believe in transparency. These things can coexist. When fear leads us, we take matters into our own hands; we fabricate, scheme, and control. Faith is living without scheming. Faith gives up control and leaves room for the Holy Spirit to heal and restore.

​If we want to be a church of restoration, then we cannot cut corners on accountability. In 2 Samuel 12, David repents deeply to the Lord but still faces severe consequences for his sin. None of us are above reproach, and repentance does not mean we do not face consequences. When we prevent others from facing the results of their actions, we prevent them from true growth. It begs the question: who are we really protecting?

Psalm 51 was written after David had sinned. Let this psalm be a constant reminder that we need to cling to God in times of weakness. 

“Have mercy on me, O God, because of your unfailing love. Because of your great compassion, blot out the stain of my sins. Wash me clean from my guilt. Purify me from my sin. For I recognize my rebellion, it haunts me day and night. Against you, and you alone, have I sinned; I have done what is evil in your sight. You will be proved right in what you say, and your judgment against me is just.” Psalm 51:1-4

-Rachel Reigard