It’s been a week since the ‘Man Up’ Destiny Church incident at Te Atatū Library, yet something about it keeps nagging at me. Then it hit me—this echoes ancient stories of tribal intimidation.
Two biblical stories, Genesis 19 and Judges 19, recount groups of men from a community engaging in aggressive, dehumanising behaviour. In Genesis 19, Lot offers hospitality to two travelling outsiders, providing them shelter and protection. In Judges 19, an old man returning from his field does the same for a Levite and his concubine. In these ancient cultures, hospitality wasn’t a casual gesture; it w
as a sacred duty. A host was responsible for their guest's safety, and failing in this duty brought dishonour upon their family name.
In both stories all the men of the village arrive, banging on the host's door, demanding that the guest be handed over. Their intent? To "know" or “Yada” the guest— in this context ‘know’ was not merely to meet them but to ‘know’ another in an intimate way – yes, a sexual way. But these stories are not about sexual desire but power, control, and degradation. Such behaviour echoes patterns found in gang culture, prisons, and any group that thrives on fear and intimidation.
While I’m not suggesting that the Destiny Church's Man Up group intended such actions, the parallels are striking. Turning up aggressively in branded t-shirts, misappropriating the haka, banging on doors, shouting, and demanding entry—all tactics of intimidation. What was their ultimate goal? What might they have done if they couldn’t be held back? What was their intended message? How might they deliver it?
Returning to the biblical accounts, both Lot and the old man refuse to hand over their guests, bound by the honour code of hospitality. However, in an attempt to placate the mob, Lot offers his virgin daughters, and the old man his daughter and the Levite’s concubine – both set of women are rejected by the mob. These horrific details are often skipped over, but they reinforce the theme: this was never about sex but power, intimidation, and dehumanisation. The innocent, the vulnerable, were caught in the middle.
Sadly, the Levite throws his concubine out to an angry crowd. She 'belonged’ to the Levite, so, by proxy, she takes his place as a suitable alternative to dishonour and degrade. The Levite ultimately throws his concubine to the mob, where she suffers a horrific fate. In our Man Up library incident, it is the parents, grandparents, children, and young people who are caught in the middle – inside and outside the locked room. They, by proxy, find themselves on the receiving end, being trapped and threatened. It is traumatic. Innocents were harmed. This will stay with them forever.
Another striking parallel: the tribe in Gibeah (also referred to as Gomorrah) were Benjamites—one of the twelve tribes of Israel. They should have known better; they understood the Hospitality Code. Yet their unchecked egos, self-righteousness, and lust for dominance led them to commit heinous acts. Their behaviour was marked by idolatry (following something or someone other than Yahweh), slander, excess, and cruelty. Today, we recognise some of these same traits under the banner of xenophobia/homophobia/transphobia—a fear of what we don’t yet understand or can’t control. It’s a lack of curiosity, grace, humility, compassion, and love.
The stories state that "all" the men of the village demanded to "know" the guests. This does not mean they all had same-sex desires, as some have been misled to believe. Statistically and contextually, that interpretation is impossible. In the language we know today, these were straight, cisgender men using sexual violence as a tool for power, control, and humiliation. They intended to strip the guests of dignity, to treat them as property—someone with no rights.
These stories were never intended to be warnings about sexuality; they were warnings against extreme inhospitality, against breaking a sacred trust. The tribes were warned, three times prior, to change their ways—to abandon their idolatry, their thirst for control, their acts of intimidation, cruelty; and inhospitality. They ignored these warnings, and as a result, their cities were destroyed. The intended shame and judgement fell not on the guest but on the perpetrators. Warnings too have been sent across the Destiny bow – and I’m being very clear here – I am not suggesting Destiny gets destroyed – that is not for us and there are other ways we can respond.
So, personally I am curious and challenged. Here are some points we might ponder:
How do we respond?
As onlookers to the Te Atatū incident, we might sense a holy or human stirring—a deep discomfort that signals injustice. So, how do we respond? How do we step into active hospitality? Some call it allyship; I don’t care what we call it—I care that we act. That we stand our ground. What might grace, compassion, invitation, and love look like, versus what we witnessed last week?
What does “action” look like?
So, what might action look like? Is it signing the petition to revoke Destiny Church’s charitable status? Emailing the officials responsible for such decisions?
Is it showing up at rainbow events to stand in peaceful, hospitable protection? Or creating safe hospitable spaces in our homes, community, or places of worship?
Does it invite educating ourselves on the verses misused to harm the Rainbow community?
Does it encourage us to have brave conversations, research, being curious, and leading with love?
What does a safe place really look like?
It is hard to see that Destiny Church’s intimidation tactics and their perversion of hospitality is reflective of God, the biblical stories or the teachings of Jesus. Personally, I cannot accept it - This is not my God. This is not God.
I would challenge that there’s an invitation to work together to create safe places of full hospitality, and full participation—not places of fear and exclusion. When we say “You are Welcome” we genuinely mean “You are safe here”!
It’s ok to be curious
Read, learn, embrace and love are great places to start, Visit alreadyenough.co.nz.
This is gold. Thank you for your tact and grace here Amanda, I love your suggestions for action and I hope that churches and most importantly followers of Jesus deeply consider what he might have to say about intimidation and threats towards the safety of our queer and lgbtqia+ selves, friends, and whanau.