You have probably done the math more than once. How old you were when it started. How old you are now. How many years sit between those two numbers, and how many of those years you spent saying nothing to anyone.
I want to tell you what that gap actually means, because I think you have been reading it wrong. The silence is not evidence that you made too much of something small. It is not proof that you would have spoken up sooner if it had really been that bad. Researchers who study childhood sexual abuse have measured this gap across thousands of survivors, and the pattern they found is so consistent that delay is now understood as part of how this kind of harm works. If you have been quietly wondering whether anyone would take you seriously after all this time, it may help to see what evidence supports an Assemblies of God abuse claim and how little of it depends on speaking up early.
CHILD USA, a research institute that tracks child protection data, reports that more than 70 percent of victims do not tell anyone within five years of the abuse. Roughly one in five never tell anyone at all. Their analysis puts the average age of disclosure at 52, with a median of 48.
Read that again if you need to. The typical person who finally speaks about childhood sexual abuse is closer to retirement than to the classroom.
The pattern holds among younger survivors too, which is the part almost nobody talks about. A nationally representative study by Gewirtz-Meydan and Finkelhor examined youth between the ages of 10 and 17 who had experienced sexual abuse or assault. About two thirds of them had told no parent and no other adult. Not years later. At the time.
So if you are twenty-three and have never said a word, you are not an outlier who failed some test the other survivors passed. You are in the majority.
Research on male survivors published by Easton found an average of more than 21 years between the abuse and the first disclosure, with individual timelines running anywhere from zero to 63 years. Fewer than one in twelve told anyone within the first year. That range matters. It means there is no correct schedule. There are people who spoke at nineteen and people who spoke at seventy, and the research does not treat either one as more credible than the other.
Once you understand what a child is actually up against, the timelines stop looking strange.
A child does not have the vocabulary. Before a certain age, most children have no language that fits what happened to them. They know something felt wrong. They do not have a word that makes it reportable. Some survivors describe reaching adulthood before they could name the experience at all, and researchers consistently find that many victims can only acknowledge and describe the abuse once they are grown.
A child weighs consequences differently. Adults imagine that a child in danger will run toward the nearest adult. What children actually calculate is closer to this: who will be angry, who will cry, who will leave, and what happens to me afterward. When the person who caused the harm holds a position the child has been taught to respect, that calculation gets heavier, not lighter.
Grooming works by reordering the relationship first. The attention, the special treatment, the sense of being chosen. By the time anything else happens, the child has already been placed in a bond that makes speaking feel like betrayal. Studies consistently find that children are more likely to take back an attempt to tell than to invent one.
Shame lands on the wrong person. Survivors carry a sense of responsibility that belongs entirely to the adult who caused the harm. That misplacement is one of the most reliable findings in the literature, and it does not dissolve on its own with time.
Investigative reporting and civil court filings have given a considerable number of church abuse survivors a place to describe the barriers they faced, in their own words. Read across enough of those published accounts and the same obstacles keep appearing.
Survivors have described being told that raising the matter would harm the ministry. They have described being warned about gossip, about division, about the damage a story like this could do to people who had done nothing wrong. Several have said, in filings and in interviews, that they understood the message clearly: your silence protects everyone, and your voice destroys them.
Others have described being counseled toward forgiveness before anyone had established what needed forgiving. Forgiveness framed as the mature response, the spiritual response, the response a person of real faith would choose. Court records in church abuse cases across denominations reflect allegations that survivors were steered toward reconciliation rather than reporting.
A number of survivors have described the loneliest version of this, which is telling one adult and watching nothing happen. No call to police. No follow-up. Life going on exactly as before.
None of these accounts establish what occurred in any particular case. Civil allegations remain allegations until proven. What they do establish is that the barriers survivors describe are not imagined and not unique to any one person.
Pentecostal church communities have their own version of these pressures, and the structure above the local congregation is part of it.
The General Council of the Assemblies of God and its regional District Councils exercise supervisory control over local churches. Ministers hold credentials that come from that structure, not from the congregation alone. For a child, that arrangement is not an abstraction. It means the adult in question is not simply a man who works at the church. He is a man whose standing was granted and recognized by an organization far larger than anything the child can imagine confronting.
Then there is the weight placed on the office itself. A congregation that treats spiritual authority as something conferred by God, expressed through anointing and calling, teaches its children a lesson that has nothing to do with abuse and everything to do with silence. The lesson is that this person speaks with an authority you do not question.
The social structure closes the loop. For many families, the church is not one activity among several. It is the school community, the friend group, the emergency contact list, the place where a parent found work and where a grandmother is buried. A child who considers telling is not weighing one conversation. He is weighing whether his family keeps everything it has.
That combination, spiritual authority above and total social overlap around, is why disclosure inside these congregations tends to run even later than the general research would predict. Survivors who eventually look into their options are often surprised by how Arkansas time limits actually work, because they had assumed the answer decades ago and never checked.
There is a particular kind of delay that deserves its own name, and it starts with a child who did speak.
Maybe it came out sideways. A comment at dinner. A refusal to be alone with someone. A sentence half said and then abandoned when the adult’s face changed.
Researchers describe disclosure as a process rather than an event, which means the first attempt is often a test. The child releases a fragment and watches what the adult does with it. A reaction of shock, anger, disbelief, or discomfort teaches the child that the full version is unsurvivable. The fragment gets withdrawn. The subject closes.
What follows can be decades of silence that began with an act of courage nobody recognized as one. If that describes your first attempt, the delay that followed was not weakness. It was the accurate conclusion of a child who ran the experiment once and read the result.
If your child or teenager recently disclosed something, a few things from the research are worth knowing tonight.
Expect the account to come out in pieces. Partial, shifting, and out of order is the normal shape of a child’s disclosure, not a sign of dishonesty. Details often arrive over weeks. Some children minimize at first and expand later once they see how you responded.
Your reaction is the variable that matters most. Studies repeatedly find that a supportive response from a caregiver is among the strongest predictors of whether a child keeps talking. Calm belief does more than any question you could ask.
Report to law enforcement and the Arkansas Child Abuse Hotline first. That step exists to protect your child and any other child in the same setting, and it should not wait on an internal conversation with anyone at a church.
Resist the urge to interview your child yourself. Trained forensic interviewers know how to gather an account without shaping it, and preserving that process protects your child later.
Here is the part that surprises people most.
Because delay is so thoroughly documented, it does not function as a mark against a claim. Arkansas law has mechanisms built around the reality that survivors come forward late.
Arkansas has no statute of limitations on civil child sexual abuse claims for survivors who were under 21 on July 28, 2021, meaning anyone born on or after July 28, 2000. For that group, the passage of time is simply not the obstacle they assumed it was.
Arkansas also recognizes delayed discovery, which allows a survivor to file within three years of discovering the psychological effects of the abuse. Many survivors reach that point in their forties or fifties, often during therapy, often after a news story, often when their own child reaches the age they were.
Your claim could still be timely, no matter how long ago the abuse occurred. An attorney can tell you where you stand.
I am not going to tell you what to do next, because the research is clear that pressure is one of the things that keeps survivors quiet in the first place.
What I will tell you is that the years you spent not talking are the most ordinary thing about your story. More than 70 percent of survivors did the same. The average person waits until 52. Male survivors wait an average of 21 years. You were not uniquely broken. You were a child in a situation built to produce exactly the outcome it produced.
Whenever you want to understand more, you can read about what it takes to hold a denomination accountable rather than only the individual who caused the harm. There is no deadline on reading. There is no deadline on thinking about it.
You get to decide when, and whether. That decision was taken from you once. It belongs to you now.