KANSAS CITY (MO)
The Roys Report [Chicago IL]
February 15, 2024
By Julie Roys
Last week, a Michigan woman came forward with a bombshell story, accusing International House of Prayer Founder Mike Bickle of sexually abusing her, beginning when she was 14. Now, that woman, identified by her maiden name Tammy Woods, has released the following letter, addressed to Mike (and Diane) Bickle.
Woods said she wrote the letter on Jan. 30, after realizing she could no longer keep the alleged abuse secret. Woods told The Roys Report (TRR) that she never sent the letter. But the process of writing it was cathartic, and eventually helped her come forward to her pastors, lawyer Boz Tchividjian, police, and the Kansas City Star. Woods’ sister contacted TRR this morning, asking if we would publish the letter, showing her sister’s “heart and her appeal to make things right.” After confirming with Woods that that was her wish, we agreed.
January 30, 2024
Dear Mike (and Diane) Bickle,
With the conclusion of our church’s 21-day fast and season of earnestly seeking the heart of God, it is with a heavy heart and sober mind that I now enter the arena. Please know, it’s been a long time and long struggle coming.
I send this letter not as a threat, power play or in a spirit of vindictiveness as a woman scorned; rather as an appeal to you to meet me in the arena and responsibly own bygone chapters of the story. I understand that you asked my forgiveness decades ago and even as recently as this past fall, and I indeed forgave you with all of my heart; even helping you in the present crisis in the spirit of Proverbs 17:17. I made a vow in my young heart to cover you all the days of my life, because I believed you when you took initiative to right the ship and cut things off for the sake of righteousness and those we love. Though I felt utterly abandoned by you at 16 years old, I believed you and I resolved to take those chapters of the story to the grave. For 43 years I have done just that and I have covered you in love.
In 1996, as a young mom, you gave me an anguishing final goodbye endeavoring to never speak with me again. For the sake of all that is right and true, I agreed with you and I dove headlong into the Word of God, where Jesus began the tedious and tender process of piecing my shattered heart and identity back together and grounding me in His love. For five years I did not speak with you, as the Lord held my heart and drove my roots deep into His. It was only when you returned to St. Louis in 2001 that our lines of communication opened again; this time surrounding the House of Prayer. Seeing you again reopened old wounds, but my roots were deep by then and I was anchored firmly in the Lord’s love and strength. From that time on, we were able to engage as distant friends and co-laborers in the prayer movement. I had great respect for and admiration of who you emerged to be and all that the Lord was accomplishing in and through you. I was deeply grateful for your tangible help in my own personal storms of life and ministry, as well as the Lord’s overarching redemptive work and protective covering. I loved that my children affectionately called you “Uncle Mike”. We made it! . . . or so I thought.
This past fall, however, everything changed, though not immediately. Initially I refused to believe anything that was said against you because I had an altogether different frame that no one but Jesus could see or understand. I knew personally your moral failure and wrestle and repentance when I was just 14 years old. I knew your gratitude to the Lord first and foremost and to me for a clean slate and second chance. This is where I thought we left off. And in the personal pursuit of Jesus’ healing, sans professional counseling or the confidence of another human being, I vehemently covered you in love. Therefore, no human being was more defiant in the face of the accusations against you than I. I knew the gift you had been given and I was confident you would never squander that before the Lord.
In all these years, no one has inquired into my past with you (save for my sister’s insinuations and open confrontations against IHOPKC.). The more wholeness I gained in heart and the more notoriety you gained in being a godly and generous man, the further we journeyed from those dark chapters. It would have remained so to the grave just as I vowed, had I not read (REDACTED)’s detailed victim statement. The parallels took my breath away as I realized I had the screen play to her feature film. I told this to you. Even still, at your own confession of misconduct, I resolved to cover you though no longer as much for your own heart as for my own family and personal heart. I ardently wished to stay off of the radar and out of the drama.
As this 21-day fast progressed, the Lord began to tenderize my otherwise armored-up heart. He led me to re-read a book called Daring Greatly by Brene Brown that encourages the owning of our stories and the embracing of vulnerability for the sake of authenticity. I felt His gentle but firm nudges. In the last number of weeks, I have outright lied to three loved ones when I was asked a direct question about my past with you. Others have baited me with concerned texts to which I “<3ed” away with a “thank you, all is well” reply. But all is not well with my soul nor should it be. I cannot live my life as a liar. It chafes my soul. When I vowed to take your inappropriate relationship with under-age me to the grave, I did so to cover you in love. Whether that was an example of trauma bonding by a victim of clergy sexual/emotional abuse, I cannot say, but my heart was postured to forgive and cover because I believed everyone deserves a second chance. And for all intents and purposes, it seemed as if you took yours to thriving and God-glorifying measures. But unfortunately, as I, along with the world, have discovered, this was far from the perceived reality.
You continued grooming and exploiting and cover-up(ing) with slight variations and apparently more honed maneuvering. This is not a falsity but a well-worn and recognizable rut in your life that only the eyes of a 43-year long friend, sadly turned victim, can recognize. I can no longer cover you in love because it was never covering, was it. Please filter this properly . . . I am not betraying you in this letter because the covering I once offered to you was given to a man who in actuality never existed. Your sons didn’t grow up with an incarcerated father, and for this I am grateful, as you should be too. But I cannot and will not live as a liar before the ones I love because what was once covering is now complicity in an anguishing, pride and denial driven cover-up regardless of what investigative reports imply.
Please do not conclude this to be defamation of character, attention seeking, gold digging or vindictive revenge. We have too much history for such impositions. You have said over and over throughout the years and in this crisis that you trust my judgment. Please trust me now. This letter is the culmination of a 21-day fast and a resolve to live in light and truth instead of shadows and lies. I step into the arena not with a smoking gun of bravado hoping to take down the great man of God and his legacy, but with a bleeding heart as one masterfully duped, and an appeal to my mentor, friend and abuser — please own these chapters in vulnerability, humility and repentance. Please free the others from their life sentence of shadows and lies. Please allow us to faithfully wound as former friends instead of scripting our cover-up as pawns to be manipulated. Please let us exhale together in closure.
My name is not Jane Doe; it was Tammy Woods when it all began. This is not meant for law craft fodder or social media fuel. It’s a wounded heart offered in honest confession to my spiritual leaders and family and extended across the miles, decades, plot twists and contexts in earnest appeal to you, the son of a boxer — this is a technical knockout; please throw in the towel; please do what is true and honorable before the Lord.
With hope,
Tammy Woods