Gay Exorcism Survivor Receives Landmark Five-Figure Settlement from U.K. Church

A church in Sheffield has paid a five-figure settlement to a gay man who survived a chilling exorcism disguised as spiritual healing—making legal history in the U.K.'s reckoning with conversion therapy.

Matthew Drapper, now 37, was a devoted volunteer at St. Thomas Philadelphia (STP), a joint Anglican-Baptist church, when he says he was pulled into a deeply traumatizing experience in 2014. Encouraged to attend an “Encounter God Weekend,” Drapper found himself the target of what church leaders framed as a battle with demonic forces—forces they claimed were linked to his sexuality.

During the retreat, church-appointed “prayer leaders” told Drapper that “sexual impurity” had allowed demons to enter his body. A married couple, acting as spiritual guides, proceeded to perform what they called an exorcism to drive out the so-called spiritual roots of his homosexuality. They instructed him to “break agreements with Hollywood and the media,” which they blamed for influencing him toward an “ungodly lifestyle.”

“Looking back, it seems like something out of a horror movie — for someone to be standing over you saying they can see the demons leaving your body is quite terrifying,” Drapper told The Times. “But when you are deeply tied into the church, as I was at that time, it is easy to believe anything they tell you.”

The psychological fallout was devastating. Drapper says he was left with depression, suicidal thoughts, and deep emotional scars. He left the church in 2016 after being pressured to step down from a leadership position simply for thinking about dating as a gay man.

The settlement—reached out of court—is believed to be the first of its kind in the U.K. for a survivor of conversion therapy. And while it doesn’t erase the trauma, it marks a powerful moment of accountability.

Drapper’s case lands in the midst of growing pressure on the Church of England, which recently announced a £150 million redress fund for survivors of institutional abuse. While the scheme doesn’t explicitly address conversion therapy, it signals a broader institutional reckoning with the harm faith communities have caused. It also includes steps toward formal apologies, acknowledgment, and therapeutic support.

Still, activists are frustrated by government inertia. Despite years of pledges—starting back in 2018—the U.K. government has yet to pass a comprehensive ban on conversion therapy. Groups like the Ban Conversion Therapy Coalition continue to demand action and legal protection for LGBTQ+ people.

Drapper, meanwhile, is turning his pain into purpose. He’s now working with other survivors to launch a website dedicated to sharing personal stories and offering support to those affected by conversion practices. “You imagine this kind of practice to be outdated, but it has been revived in recent decades and is often referred to as ‘power healing,’” he said. “I know around 20 people who have been through it, but I suspect there are many, many more.”

LGBTQ+ advocates have welcomed the settlement as a groundbreaking precedent—proof that faith-based abuse can and should be challenged. The hope now is that it fuels not only legal reform but deeper cultural change within religious communities.

Drapper’s story is a stark reminder: conversion therapy isn’t a relic of the past. It’s still happening—often behind the mask of healing or spiritual care—and its impact is real. As the U.K. inches toward long-promised protections, his voice joins a growing chorus demanding that every LGBTQ+ person be free to live without fear, shame, or manipulation in the name of faith.