A Call for Truth and Dialogue

Honest Observations & Questions

I’ve wrestled with whether to share my perspective on the recent women’s conference regarding the council’s process, but my desire for truth and open dialogue compels me to speak.

I’m frustrated by rumors and misinformation that have hurt people I care about, and I believe we can do better as a covenant community.

What follows is my experience, based on careful study and conversations, offered with humility and an open heart. I invite anyone with additional information or a different view to join me in seeking truth together, as I’m committed to listening and learning.

I debated whether to use names, but ultimately, my desire is reconciliation, and I don’t want to cause more offense than my observations and experience may already provoke.

For full disclosure, my drive to stand up for the underdog may have roots that go way back. In sixth grade, there was a girl in my class who was bullied by the other children. She wore old, dirty clothes, her hair was never brushed, and she had a mental disability. Having just moved to that school and experienced bullying myself for how I dressed, I desperately wanted to avoid being a target. So, I joined in.

I came home excited to tell my mom how I had “fit in.” I started with, “There’s this girl named Jessica that everybody makes fun of. We called her names.” My mom—normally calm, cool, and collected—lost her ever loving mind. She had been mercilessly bullied growing up and refused to let her daughter become a bully. She lectured me for what felt like forever. I’ll never forget her saying, “I would rather my kids be bullied than ever become the bullies.” That moment marked me.

It set my internal compass. Since then, my experiences with all kinds of bullies—not just the loud or obvious ones, but also the subtle, manipulative, or underhanded—have made me especially attuned to those dynamics, particularly when they come from influential or well-liked individuals. That sensitivity sometimes leads me to notice things others might not see or to interpret situations differently. I share this so you can understand the lens I’m seeing through and weigh what I offer accordingly.

When I first learned of the conflict in March, I approached it with an open heart and mind, determined to seek the truth. I didn’t know a conflict existed until then. When I became aware of it, I made a conscious decision to be persuaded by the truth, wherever it led. 

I studied carefully and thoroughly, reading everything I could find: materials from the women’s council, blog posts, emails from the conference organizers, Jennifer’s writings—anything that could help me piece together a fuller picture. I even called Jennifer directly. With the volume of accusations against her, I felt it was important to hear her perspective firsthand. I hadn’t seen direct accusations against specific council members, so I wasn’t sure whom to reach out to on that side. I also spoke with someone who knows Jennifer well and respects her. She shared how important integrity and honesty are to Jennifer, providing a personal example that gave me insight into her character. 

I sat with this for a while—mostly quietly. I didn’t want to speak too soon or from incomplete understanding, so I waited.

My study of the council’s process raised serious concerns about its fairness and transparency. 

One woman (I’ll call her Council Chair) appeared to have a personal agenda against Louis. I could speculate on her reasons, but I won’t. But from my perspective, she made a concerted effort to harm him by organizing a council to revoke his certificate. The first council included women close to Louis who didn’t support removal, so a second council was formed—this time with more control over who could participate. It seemed like she kept searching for charges because her first attempt failed. According to Louis’s daughter, she even called his ex-wife to dig up dirt on him. That’s only one account among many that raises questions about process and intent. There’s also a climate among some believers that seems unusually comfortable with expressing strong dislike for Louis. Whatever the reasons behind that, it appeared easy to gather a group of women who were emotionally or socially aligned in their views. 

The council chair appeared to be the primary force behind the effort to revoke Louis’s certificate, based on the evidence presented. While I can’t prove it, I suspect at least one man—possibly more—was involved behind the scenes, if not the original instigator. That’s speculative, of course, but it’s informed by patterns I observed and the surrounding context. 

What is clearer to me is that the process seemed carefully structured to leave Louis no opportunity to explain or defend himself. It’s as if there was a concern that, if he were allowed to speak, some of the women might begin to question the charges. 

At least one of the charges, based on what I’ve seen, can be verifiably disproven. And if even one is false, it casts reasonable doubt on the reliability of the others. 

It also appears that steps were taken to ensure Louis couldn’t be present or fully prepared. He wasn’t given the necessary information ahead of time, and the logistics made it difficult—if not impossible—for him to attend. From where I sit, the process seemed intentionally structured to prevent his voice from being heard. 

His former partner’s role also seemed to shift depending on what best served the council’s case. And if she truly was his "wife" at the time, then all of this could have been resolved with a simple refusal to sustain him. Instead, it appears that someone—or perhaps several people—wanted Louis to be publicly harmed.

The council’s insistence on keeping everything “private” raised a red flag for me.

I get that discretion matters in sensitive situations, but insisting that everything remain private feels more like secrecy than protection.

If the goal is to keep the community safe, hiding the process while letting rumors about Louis’s supposed wrongs spread doesn’t add up.

It’s inconsistent—either everything stays confidential, or it doesn’t.

I’ve heard from people, who know details about witnesses, statements, and what Louis allegedly did.

If it’s so private, who’s leaking this information?

And why is it okay to share just enough to harm Louis but not enough to let him respond?

Attending the conference and Zooms revealed a troubling lack of open dialogue and fairness. 

I watched the first Zoom and attended the next two. I participated fully in the women’s conference, including the prayer and the 15-minute reflection afterward. Then I voted. 

Kalisa and Jennifer were open, respectful, and clear. They invited dialogue and presented evidence, but that openness wasn’t reciprocated. Some council members stirred intense emotion, made false accusations, and misrepresented motives. It became clear during the Zooms who had already made up their minds. Emotion had hijacked reason. It seemed as if their "feelings didn’t care about facts."

Maybe it was peer pressure. Maybe some didn’t want to be in the minority. Maybe others sincerely studied and reached different conclusions. But none of that justifies how Kalisa and Jennifer were treated during the Zoom calls. It was awful. I was heartbroken watching it unfold. I prayed for Kalisa during one of the calls because what she endured was painful to witness.

The hostility at the Conference didn’t come from Jennifer or Kalisa—it came from others. Some attendees, not just council members, made comments about Jennifer and Kalisa that I personally overheard, and those words were deeply unfair and untrue. 

Council members, meanwhile, acted defensive, as if questioning them was unacceptable, often relying on emotional appeals rather than facts. 

Where was the humility? 

If someone is confident in their actions, you’d expect them to remain calm—a natural sign of innocence. I envisioned a process where both sides, secure in their positions, would calmly and patiently present their case. Instead, we saw angry defensiveness. 

One woman was particularly disruptive, constantly talking, interrupting, mocking, and laughing. Sitting behind me, she made it difficult to focus and seemed to believe her voice mattered more than others’. Additionally, some women were on their phones or watching movies, which felt disrespectful, as if they were saying, “I’m only here to vote as planned, not to listen.” 

When the council chair presented her defense, her emotional intensity overwhelmed me, necessitating my attempt to regulate my own nervous system.. Beneath her words, I sensed fear—perhaps of being misunderstood or discredited. Rage often masks fear. Her evidence didn’t feel objective or balanced. 

During the Q&A, women lined up not to ask questions but to attack Jennifer. I saw no compassion or attempt to understand her perspective. She was labeled the villain, despite her sincere belief—which I share—that she was following the Lord’s guidance. It puzzled me that a group of respected, seasoned women seemed to feel threatened by one relatively unknown voice. 

The only time Jennifer seemed visibly angry was when a council member read a text, implying it came directly from Louis. She believed it was misleading. When I asked Louis, he said he had never texted the reader and didn’t recall ever speaking with her. He thought the quote might have come from a past conversation with another couple, acknowledging he said something similar but emphasizing that context was critical. The text was presented as if it came directly from Louis, when it was actually hearsay from a past conversation, misrepresented as fact. It’s understandable that this could upset someone.

Beyond the process, I’m troubled by the spread of rumors that have unfairly harmed Louis and others. Regarding Louis and his former partner (A), I believe they both experienced personal and relational struggles. Both seemed to carry unhealed trauma, and the dynamic between them appeared volatile at times. From what I’ve observed and heard, neither necessarily fits the caricature of villain or victim. It seems to me that they each brought intensity into their relationship, and that sometimes created harmful outcomes. 

When I first met A, she shared a disturbing story about a couple she claimed had opened dark portals and were evil. I told her I knew the couple and offered a different perspective, but she insisted her view was divinely inspired. We ultimately had to “agree to disagree.” Later, when that same woman organized a conference, A warned others not to attend, claiming evil was present. Some believed her. I encouraged a mutual friend to advise concerned women to speak directly with the organizer (I heard at least one did)—but A still doubled down. To me, this reflects a pattern: causing harm while believing she’s offering protection. 

I’m sharing this not to shame her, but because we’ve heard the worst about Louis, and I think honesty requires balance. Louis’s experience will eventually be made public if I have a say, because I’m a firm believer in exposing wounds to the light to keep them from festering. 

Some may think I just don’t know all the horrible things Louis is accused of. I may not know everything—Louis himself doesn’t know all the accusations—but I’ve heard plenty of rumors. I know some of the formal charges against him. I’ve asked Louis about other rumors, and his explanations have satisfied me, seeming more believable than what those spreading the rumors have claimed. Even recently, new stories have surfaced. Each time I hear one, my husband or I reach out to Louis, and when he can trace it to an incident, he explains what he thinks it stems from. One recent accusation came from someone considered “trustworthy,” claiming Louis was “openly bragging about sleeping around with women.” That’s not just false—it’s absurd. Anyone who knows Louis knows he’s more likely to avoid even casual physical contact with a woman he isn’t committed to. If this is true, it should be easy to verify. So where are the women? Even one would be enough. And if no evidence can be produced, no one should be repeating it, no matter how “trustworthy” the source is said to be. 

Another claim came from a man who wrote an affidavit asserting that Denver supported the women’s council against Louis and urged him to move forward with it.

According to Louis, this individual wasn’t even present for the entire conversation.

New information suggests that this private conversation was misrepresented to sway public opinion, and I wonder how the other participants feel about their words being used this way.

It feels like a betrayal of trust to take a private talk and twist it into public evidence.

I thought Jennifer’s response to that claim was exactly right: even if Denver had advised Louis one way, it doesn’t strip her of her own free will to counsel Louis differently.

Good grief, people! What are we thinking? 

One rumor stood out because it was the exact opposite of what Louis has consistently shared with our family. After discussing it, we concluded that his passion on the topic may have led someone to misunderstand—mistaking his intensity for support of something he’s fundamentally opposed to. In my opinion, the adversary has stirred people against him, and those who allow themselves to be stirred up are entertaining a mischievous and accusing spirit. Once it takes hold, it can distort perception—causing you to see wrongdoing where there may be none.

Even if Louis were guilty, fairness in process still matters. If we allow bias and control to shape these proceedings, we set a dangerous precedent—one where anyone, regardless of guilt or innocence, could be silenced or condemned without a chance to speak. 

I know Louis’s personality can come across as blunt or unpolished. He’s not shy about using strong language, and he sometimes drops curse words like they’re punctuation. One rumor I heard was how offended some men were that he spoke that way in front of their wives. Honestly, that made me chuckle—because if your wives need to be shielded from Louis’s colorful vocabulary, you definitely wouldn’t want them around me. I’ve got the humor of a 12-year-old boy and consider a well-placed f-bomb one of my favorite rhetorical tools. So yes, I might be more inclined to look past the rough exterior—because I recognize it, and I understand it. But that doesn’t make me an immoral person, and it doesn’t make Louis one either. If you judge people by their most unrefined moments, you might miss the deeper truth. A little off-color language isn’t going to keep someone out of heaven. 

A sharp tongue can be softened with time. A deceitful heart is far more dangerous. 

As for the couple Louis resided with for nine weeks in England, it seems to me that they may have been swayed by those with social clout. I highly doubt their home was a sanctified space free of swearing or conflict until Louis arrived. According to Louis, he doesn’t know what changed—one day they were friends, the next they weren’t. While he was staying with them, the council chair was allegedly conspiring with them against him behind the scenes. That troubled me. If a friend acted out of line in my home, I’d address them directly—not gossip to others. I told Louis this. He defended the couple, but I still hold my opinion. This highlights one of my core concerns with the council’s process: instead of engaging Louis directly and openly about their concerns, they appeared to be compiling accusations behind the scenes to use against him in a disciplinary setting. 

When the husbands of the women’s council wrote their letter in support of their wives, it felt like an appeal to male authority—as if their endorsement validated the process. It didn’t sit right with me. It reminded me of our polygamist community past, where husbands would sit in on women’s meetings to keep an eye on everything. That dynamic is obnoxious.

My husband was on a council at Rockland Ranch, where every decision required a unanimous vote, so we’re very familiar with all the nuances behind how unanimity can be reached. That’s why using it as proof of divine approval doesn’t quite land for me. 

I recently learned of an incident I wish I’d known about a year ago, as I would have spoken out then. Multiple people chastised Jennifer for outing Aaron on her blog. But I was told by a woman in the Boise fellowship that Aaron was the author of the blog in 2016. I assumed it was common knowledge, as it was discussed openly among all groups I interacted with. I even found old email threads, including one from 2020, confirming Aaron as the author. It seems disingenuous for people to act like this wasn’t widely and publicly known and that Jennifer did something terrible. It almost feels like some were actively looking for reasons to be offended. 

~~~~~~~~ 

During Denver’s talk the day after the conference, I couldn’t help but think the “majority” was getting a wake-up call—hilarious, really, because I bet everyone in the room was smirking, thinking, 

“Yup, that’s definitely aimed at the other guy.” 

But I was repeatedly reminded to stop pointing fingers and apply the tough lessons to myself. Still, the truth holds: a majority vote isn’t always right. The Covenant of Christ says, 

“It’s not common for the majority to want what’s wrong, but it’s common for the minority to.” 

Not common doesn’t mean never. The majority can be wrong, especially when fear, pressure, or loyalty cloud discernment. 

Denver said: 

“Many of us have approached the task of deciding a controversy with fear, and not with cheerful confidence. I am confident that the voice of the people will almost always choose the right outcome. I approach our disagreements with the confidence that, in the end, we will achieve the right outcome. Be encouraged to lay aside your fears, trust the body of believers, and do not lose faith because we have a matter to resolve.” 

How well did we follow Denver’s counsel? Did we approach this disagreement with “cheerful confidence” or lay aside our fears to trust one another? I don’t think we did. If the process matters more than the outcome—and I believe it does—why are we so quick to assume we reached the right conclusion? A flawed process, clouded by fear, pressure, or defensiveness, undermines any confidence in the result. 

The April 13th talk, God’s Covenant People, struck me deeply. One section still echoes in my soul: 

“We are failing again. We are so fixated on achieving a result that we fail to realize the results do not matter; only the process matters… Peer pressure, refusing to engage, and shaming someone who wants to stay in the process cannot and will not bring people of peace together.” 

“We must, but have not, learned to disagree respectfully… This is the work. And many still refuse to see that God cares about how we treat one another as much—or more—than our outward projects.”

In sharing this, my hope is to spark honest dialogue and reconciliation grounded in truth. I understand what it’s like to feel angry when someone reaches a different conclusion. I’ve had to process that myself. I don’t expect everyone—or anyone—to agree with me. I only hope what I share won’t provoke so much anger that people walk away instead of staying at the table to seek resolution and truth. 

I’ve continued watching and listening, hoping for further discussion—something that might shift or refine my understanding. Open, honest dialogue has been rare. Some refuse to engage. Others avoid directness. In the time since the conference, I’ve also learned new information that added clarity and deepened my concerns—so I’ve included those insights here. I’m speaking now not to provoke, but to be transparent. 

After the conference, some women said Jennifer should “just let it go.” The irony is—some of them haven’t let it go. Bitterness continues to leak out in conversation. Meanwhile, the conference organizers appear genuinely open to reconciliation—grounded in truth. They’ve made their intentions clear. Why are opposing voices unwilling to believe them? 

I’d like to compile a list of the rumors so they can be addressed directly. For example, someone claimed Jennifer planned to harvest ballots before the vote—completely false. She never said anything of the sort. There were rumors about lawsuits and stalking ...too many to include here. Why are some willing to spread falsehoods about a fellow covenant holder? She’s also been all but accused of adultery, simply for having a close friendship with someone she and her husband have both considered a friend for years. That accusation is not only false—it’s cruel. To anyone who has repeated or quietly agreed with such a charge, I hope you’ll take a moment to reflect and repent. We’re supposed to be people of truth, and that starts with refusing to bear false witness—especially against the innocent. 

Jennifer’s directness and intensity may rub some people the wrong way, but that’s not a sin. I prefer honesty over flattery myself. I don’t trust charm; I trust hard truth spoken in love. Some in this movement seem confused about what makes someone “an asshole.” The people labeled that way are often consistently blunt, treating everyone equally. But the ones people follow? They only offend those who don’t praise them. Maybe that’s worth pondering. 

During one of the Zoom calls, someone questioned why the conference organizers’ voices should even be considered. The sentiment was essentially, “Who are these women? We don’t know them. They’re not in our fellowship. They just showed up and stirred things up. The women on the council—we do know them, so of course we’ll take their side.” But none of the council women are in my fellowship either. Writing books, giving talks, or having a public profile doesn’t make someone’s voice more important—or mean they’re right. Visibility isn’t the same as validity. The conference organizers are covenant holders with active fellowships. If we’re dismissing them just because they aren’t well known, we need to pause and consider why. 

And maybe we should ask ourselves what that kind of thinking leads to. If we treat visibility and popularity as prerequisites for being heard, we quietly create a hierarchy—one that undermines the equality we are striving for. 

After the conference, my husband and I spent five or six hours with Louis. I asked him dozens of questions—and honestly, I was stunned. So many of the things being said about him turned out to be false or wildly distorted. What struck me most was how few women reached out to him directly throughout this process. 

I understand the conference was meant to examine the process, not put Louis on trial—but he’s still a human being. He wasn’t given a chance to speak. He’s not a monster or a narcissist—just a flawed man with a strong personality. That alone shouldn’t be grounds for exclusion or condemnation. 

Unless we’re willing to keep the conversation going—with sincerity and openness—there will continue to be a quiet minority who see things differently, based on firsthand experience. Dialogue doesn’t guarantee agreement, but it does offer the chance for greater understanding and, hopefully, greater unity. 

I know sharing this comes with risk. Some seem to operate with a kind of “cancel culture” mindset—shutting down uncomfortable conversations or removing dissenting voices from email groups and private forums. But freedom of speech includes the freedom to say things others may not want to hear. If we only protect speech that feels safe or agreeable, it isn’t truly free. Even in private settings, censoring uncomfortable truths can stifle growth and understanding. If we allow hard conversations to happen with honesty and respect, some may find common ground. And those unwilling to reconcile will often choose to walk away on their own. 

I’m not trying to redo the conference—the vote was cast, and the outcome stands. I simply want to share my perspective, since I’m in the minority. This is why I voted the way I did and why I still believe the conversation is worth continuing. If you feel I’m in the wrong, and you have information to correct me—please bring it. Not more accusations or speculation. Bring verifiable, grounded truth. If you do, I’ll receive it with gratitude. 

I’m still listening.

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I know this isn’t a typical blog post, and maybe I shouldn’t..... but I always include a song with my posts. So please forgive the OCD and let me leave this here. 🎶

For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creation shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 1:37