TAMPA, FL / ACCESS Newswire / October 30, 2025 / Every Thursday evening in Tampa, Florida, the sanctuary of a local church transforms into something rare - a talk show, a confessional, a classroom, and a place of reckoning. Survivors take the stage, and in the audience, some wipe tears while others type anonymous questions to a number projected on the screen. At the center of it all stands Pastor Michael Neely, a man who has made it his life's mission to confront one of faith's most uncomfortable truths: the Church has too often been silent about domestic violence.

For more than twenty years, Neely has worked at the intersection of faith and advocacy. As a pastor, survivor, and founder of Black Eyes Sweet Talk, he has guided countless people through the dual wounds of abuse and spiritual guilt. His message is radical in its compassion and clarity: faith should never be a prison. Through his workshops, sermons, and training programs, he challenges harmful theology that has long urged victims to "pray and stay," insisting instead that safety and dignity are holy pursuits.

Yet perhaps his most innovative ministry unfolds not on Sunday mornings but during his Thursday Night Lives - a series of community conversations that blend the structure of a talk show with the intimacy of group therapy. "I've always loved the format," Neely says. "Talk shows reach people. They keep attention. But more than that, they make space for stories, and stories are how we heal."

Each session centers on a different aspect of domestic violence, inviting survivors, advocates, and sometimes even skeptics to join him on stage. Attendees can ask questions from the floor or, for those still in dangerous situations, text their questions privately to Neely's phone. "Not everyone is ready to be seen," he explains. "Some are still afraid. Some are being watched online by their abuser. But that shouldn't stop them from having access to help."

This combination of discretion and dialogue has made Thursday Night Lives a lifeline for people navigating trauma within faith communities. Survivors who once felt ostracized by the Church find an atmosphere where scripture becomes a source of liberation rather than shame. "We read passages about submission and suffering without context," Neely says. "But God never intended those words to justify abuse. When faith is used as a weapon, it's no longer faith; it's control."

Neely's approach grew from his own experience as a survivor. Years ago, he endured abuse that left him questioning not only his worth but also the very foundation of his faith. "I didn't hear sermons about men being abused," he recalls. "And when I tried to talk about it, the response was disbelief or dismissal." That silence, he realized, wasn't unique; it was systemic. In many churches, gender stereotypes and theological misconceptions have created a culture where women are blamed, men are shamed, and abusers are protected under the guise of forgiveness.

That realization led him to found Black Eyes Sweet Talk, an organization that provides faith-based counseling, survivor education, and church training. The name itself is a reclamation. "It comes from the kind of language people use to soften the truth," he says. "‘Oh, she just fell.' ‘It was just sweet talk.' I wanted to flip that to say, let's call it what it is and start healing from there."

Through his work, Neely has trained pastors, partnered with shelters, and advised policymakers on the role of faith in domestic violence prevention. His programs have reached congregations across the U.S., bridging the gap between religious and secular advocacy communities. "A lot of survivors won't go to a shelter or counselor," he explains. "They'll go to their pastor first. That means pastors need to be equipped, not just spiritually but practically."

That focus on practical solutions is what makes Thursday Night Lives different from traditional church programs. Neely doesn't preach from the pulpit - he converses. He invites survivors to share how theology shaped their experience, good or bad. He brings in advocates from local shelters to discuss warning signs and safety planning. And he encourages men to step forward, too. "We don't talk enough about male survivors," he says. "When men do speak up, they're told to man up, not open up. That silence kills."

The initiative is already drawing attention beyond the church walls. Local reporters have attended the sessions. Advocacy groups have sent representatives. And survivors who once sat quietly in the pews are now volunteering to speak, mentor, or simply sit beside someone new. One woman who attended a session described it as "the first time I heard God's name mentioned without fear attached."

Still, Neely is clear that the work is not about spectacle. "I'm not interested in putting people's pain on display," he says. "Thursday Night Live isn't a show - it's a bridge. It connects survivors to resources, churches to training, and communities to truth."

That bridge-building ethos has roots in his earlier work with anti-human trafficking ministries, where he saw firsthand how exploitation thrives in silence. Back then, his talk-show-style gatherings led to the creation of Men of Valor: a group that protected volunteers ministering in Tampa's red-light districts. A decade later, that group still operates, proof that when faith confronts rather than conceals social issues, transformation follows.

Today, Neely envisions Thursday Night Lives expanding into a national model: a curriculum any church can adopt, equipped with trauma-informed theology and live discussion guides. He's also exploring ways to bring the format online for survivors unable to attend in person. "We can't end abuse by pretending it doesn't happen," he says. "We end it by talking and by bringing light into dark spaces."

In an era where religion is often accused of hypocrisy or irrelevance, Pastor Michael Neely represents something both ancient and revolutionary: a faith that listens before it lectures. His message to the Church is simple, though not easy: if your gospel cannot protect the vulnerable, it isn't the gospel.

And so, every Thursday night, amid the questions, testimonies, and tears, Neely's sanctuary becomes what church was always meant to be: a refuge.

If your faith community is ready to move from silence to action, connect with Pastor Michael Neely. To learn more about faith-based domestic violence training and bringing the Thursday Night Live model to your congregation, visit https://blackeyessweettalk.com/

Reverend Michael Neely
University Baptist Church
Preacher5673@outlook.com

SOURCE: Reverend Michael Neely