What Does Equality in the Church Look Like?

When I married my husband in 1982 and moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, my denomination had no local churches. God had called me to plant one, so I set about my work. To do so I had to convince the annual conference to approve me. This met with interesting responses. On the one hand, no one else was lining up to start a church there, so they had little to lose. They offered me about $50 a month to help…and a mimeograph machine.

On the other hand, they had previously had single women in an earlier era start churches and pastor, and currently had a pastoral couple, but were confused about a married woman whose husband wasn’t ordained. My husband worked in youth para-church ministry, so they tried to ordain him, that would have fit their categories, to make us a clergy couple. But when he discovered the process required a church appointment, my husband left the system and remained a lay person.

Church planting avoided several pitfalls for women in ministry. As I knocked on doors recruiting people to attend our new congregation, many were surprised to hear of a woman pastor. The non-churched folks found it refreshing, they would say things like, “Well women do everything else now.” Or, “I have a woman doctor, why not?” Or more importantly they would have had a negative or even abusive experience with a male pastor, and I didn’t trigger those associations.

The only people with issues were those who had been taught this was unbiblical, and since these were folks of faith with their own church already, I wasn’t trying to recruit them anyway. So I didn’t have to deal with the expectations of a congregation changing from a male to a female pastor.

Not long after starting the church I became pregnant with our first child. So our family grew along with the church. This gave me the option of caring for my children while pastoring, especially because the laypeople had no prior expectation of hours I would spend at the church building or other such conflicts. In fact, I had to beg them to tell me things like they had gone in the hospital. One dear old saint would not tell me this, and I told her to let me know, because I could work it out to visit, and could certainly pray.

One of the most challenging experiences I had came from an already Christian couple who became leaders in the early years. We worked together for ten years but the wife never fully accepted my leadership as she had grown up in a church that taught women could not be pastors. Her husband supported me fully and was one of my key leaders. She had many talents and used them well in the church but could never fully see me as her pastor. After ten years they chose to attend a different church, leaving quite a gap.

For the most part, I have found my role in my local church without much controversy since I started my own congregation. I did fight some battles in the conference, one was an extra year added to the ordination process. As our leadership of the conference changed to a superintendent whose wife pastors (that original clergy couple from when I started) I noticed such a change in attitude in my conference and a corresponding increase in female pastors and leaders.

Not all my women friends experienced a smooth path so I often found myself advocating for women in other conferences and settings. A male pastor friend started the ordination process with me while we were in seminary together. He married a woman from another denomination who worked full-time as an ordained chaplain. When she sought ordination now in her husband’s conference, the leadership feared ordaining her would lead to all the pastors’ wives seeking ordination. Not all of them would want it, but if they could satisfy the requirements, why not? And how did that possibility negate the reality of her being well suited for ministry?  

Meanwhile my own four children grew up with a female pastor as their only experience. One of my favorite stories involves the daughter of a pastor from our conference who lived with us one semester while attending school. My own daughter protested when I explained her father was a pastor. “But daddies can’t be pastors!” Although I knew I had to burst her bubble, for one delicious moment women had the priority in her world.

When those same four grew up and left for college, they had to make their own decisions about faith and issues like drinking or homosexuality. But I realized that the one non-negotiable for me remained women in ministry. To deny that possibility equaled denying my very purpose. I need not fear however. My daughter Junia spent her first weekend at college defending her own name and her namesake’s significance as a woman apostle.

As my children have moved to different cities and searched for churches, I’ve been amazed at the new and relevant church plants, often with racial diversity and the most hip features, that nevertheless deny the possibility of women in leadership. I am grateful for our denomination’s founder who wrote a treatise defending the ordination of women two centuries ago. If only we could all live up to his insights. I look for the day when little girls and little boys and those of all races see people like them represented in all the roles God gives.

Mutual Submission? How Does that Work?

When my husband and I first married almost 35 years ago, we received as a wedding present a book that basically explained to wives how to get husbands to do what you wanted. That’s the tactic many Christian women have taken, loving manipulation. 

We wondered how to address the unavoidable problem: if we both submit, who has the tie breaking vote? In a traditional marriage, the husband always does, even if he chooses the wife’s choice out of love and kindness. But a truly equal marriage requires the possibility of another method, because otherwise the decision making won’t truly be equal, which leads to manipulation and bitterness from the wife.

I proposed the tie-breaking vote when required should come from the person most affected. For example, in our marriage I provided the primary child care, keeping our children and pastoring a church. I had primary responsibility for Nora, Junia, Luke and Wesley, so any decisions regarding their care would fall mostly on me. Roger would be consulted, but the burden of driving Junia to eye therapy would be chiefly mine, so I needed to decide if I was willing. He coached Luke at baseball and Wesley at swimming, so decisions around those sports could favor his choices.

A particularly prime example occurred when a young man from our church needed someplace to live while his mother entered treatment for addiction. He had reached out to my husband, who felt a strong sense of compassion and concern and automatically wanted to take him in. I cared too, but I also saw the implications of taking an older male into my home at the risk of my daughters, and knew that careful supervision would be required. Although my husband would be home in the evenings and able to help and mentor the young man, the majority of the burden of the added responsibility would fall on me. So my approval mattered the most. We did take him in, and at times that definitely caused extra effort on my part. 

When it comes to financial decisions, Roger often gets the last word since he is the primary breadwinner and carries the responsibility for supporting the rest of us. A funny example happened regarding our fourth child. I had always wanted an even number of children, so once we had three, four needed to follow. But Roger changed to a full-time ministry job that included a drastic cut in pay, so taking on another child felt overwhelming. He grudgingly relented. All our other pregnancies required many months to conceive. During that first month, Roger already regretted agreeing, and I told him we would not try again, as I wanted him fully on board. However we were already pregnant, which we both took as God’s clear will that we had a fourth!

Although our marriage often looks traditional since Roger has been the primary bread winner and I did the full-time child rearing, we nonetheless made decisions out of egalitarian principles. Despite keeping my children I also pastored a church throughout their years at home, having planted a church before our first child. 

For couples with a different configuration, the basic principle remains, the person who is most affected should have a greater say, which still never assumes the other person has no input. Ultimately the less selfish both people are the smoother this moves along. If we are keeping score and worried about who is winning, we are unlikely to come to mutually agreeable conclusions. If instead we have the best interests of our spouse at heart, we will be more likely to conclude a happy result.

As a pastor I have definitely seen this in couples I’ve observed. Decisions happen more smoothly with mature, selfless individuals. Those who are out to win and get their way typically lose instead, as their attempts to manipulate the situation either backfire or cause resentment. Certainly being honest and forthright matters too, if we don’t say what we want, it’s hard for the other person to consider our desires. If we hide the truth in the interest of reverse psychology or some other tactic, we often sabotage trust. If we hide the truth out of a mistaken understanding of selflessness, we rob the other person of the privilege of letting us have what we really want. Marriage should be a joyful giving to one another, instead of a battle to negotiate.

Now as the parent of grown children, I’m watching my offspring navigate these waters. They are doing it better than I did, for which I rejoice.

Come or Free

My last blog mentioned part of my dog's obedience training included learning the command Wait. She is released from that with the command Come or Free.

One scenario for this command happens when I open the back door. My dog Roo is told wait to be sure the coast is clear. She is protective of our property, and if an unsuspecting stranger wanders by she is likely to head out with a vengeance. To protect others and herself she is verbally restrained until I ascertain the space is safe. If I'm not going outside, she is then told Free. Free means she is free to go where she pleases, because the fenced in backyard is a safe place for her and away from others.

If we are going together, the gate might be open but I am accompanying her and I say Come. In this case she is coming with me, and I am the gate, the monitor of safety either with a leash or verbal command.

As I spend the year with the word Wait, these other commands also come to mind. When God tells me to wait, I am eager to be released. I want to run free, and at times God releases me, into a safe space, and I am allowed my freedom to explore.

But more often when Wait ends, the alternative is Come. Jesus calls me forward. The privilege of following cannot be overstated. This week I drove to my daughter's house, a familiar trip. Having just driven there two weeks prior, relying on a navigation system seemed unnecessary. While cheerfully talking to a friend, I reached a major change of highways and thought I navigated it correctly. An hour later when I hung up, I realized my mistake.

That particular interchange has caused us problems before, it's counterintuitive and requires attention, which I did not give it. Following the guidance of the Spirit looms even larger than the voice of Siri explaining the correct turn and like in that case can save me wasted time and gas and energy pursuing the wrong route. Come means Jesus and I are traveling together, and although the road may be long and circuitous, I can trust my Guide and the end result.

I love the freedom given to wander on my own in a safe space. But I'd rather hear Come, and know I'm accompanied on the way. One of the most significant uses of that word in Scripture happens when Jesus says in Matthew 11:28-30 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

In my waiting the best call forward springs from the call to Come to Jesus. Come and rest. Come and learn. As a write this on the Lord's Day, I hear those words calling me to center on Christ.

Wait. Come. Free. These words frame my days. Lord give me ears to hear and a heart to obey.

Wait

When I took my dog Roo to obedience training, one of the skills she learned involved not charging out an open door, a useful lesson to prevent many possible negative scenarios including her getting hurt or terrifiying someone else. The command for this is "wait." Roo stands still when she hears wait until I release her with "come" or "free."

This New Year my word for the year is wait. Obeying this command can prevent negative scenarios for me as well. I need to listen to my Master's voice releasing me before heading out.

An old song by Stuart Hamblen runs through my head, a version of the familiar Isaiah 40:31 verse:

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.

They shall mount up with wings as eagles.

They shall run and not be weary,

They shall walk and not faint.

Teach me, Lord, Teach me, Lord, to wait!

 

And this verse to it:

Teach me, Lord, to wait - down on my knees.

Till in your own good time you'll answer my pleas.

Teach me not to rely on what others do.

But to wait in prayer for an answer from you.

Wait needs to be what I do in prayer, wait on God's timing. Trusting God's timing is best. 

Another kind of wait will fit 2017, as I wait on others by serving them, since my family faces many occasions this year where I will need to serve, a birth, two graduations and a wedding. I will be waiting on others bringing them what they need. 

This month we wait as our first grandchild will appear but we cannot be sure when, so we wait to hear of that coming. 

Most of all I want to wait to speak. On New Year's Day at church we examined Ecclesiastes 3, which includes a time to be silent and a time to speak. I need to wait in silence until it is time to speak. And most of the time, silence should win. This year, I need to speak less, and wait more. 

Wait. Full of meaning. I can't wait to see what I learn from it. 

A Safe Space

Yesterday was spent creating two safe spaces, one in person and one virtually. We need places that are safe to speak, to be heard, to be understood, to be ourselves.

Since last week's election I have been amazed at how dangerous it can be to be honest, transparent, real. Especially on social media.

One of the most instructive verses I know is Romans 12:15 "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." Over the last week, some are rejoicing. Some are mourning.

For those elated, allow them their safe space to feel that joy of victory. Hold them accountable to high levels of compassion and kindness, but refrain from ruining their joy by arguing down their candidate.

The election is over. We are done arguing the merits of each choice.

For those crushed, allow them their safe space to lament, rage, share their fears and concerns. Point them to hope, reassure them of your support, but refrain from stepping on their pain by continuing to argue the superiority of your position.

I have been amazed at so called "friends" especially "Christian" ones who are berating people's concerns instead of listening with grace.

We can create safe spaces, meetings, gatherings, private chats...but we can also BE a safe space, a literal epicenter of grace that draws to ourselves those in need of a listening ear, a warm heart, a hug virtual or in person. By the Spirit we can.

Let's be kind. We are all we have, each other, and that grace God gives us to share ourselves freely. 

Do I Know Any Better How to Speak?

After reading my Bible this morning, a reflection:

Jeremiah 1:4-8

⁴ The word of the Lord came to me, saying,

⁵ “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
    before you were born I set you apart;
    I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”

⁶ “Alas, Sovereign Lord,” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am too young.”

⁷ But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. ⁸ Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the Lord.

God called me to ministry in my early 20s. I was too young.

I did not know how to speak. But the Lord sent me anyway.

After three decades I am not too young anymore.

Do I know any better how to speak?

I have birthed my own four babies and baptized other peoples.

I have buried my parents, grandparents, good friends and parishioners.

I have sat by sick beds, death beds and birth beds.

Do I know any better how to speak?

I have watched my church people experience racism first hand and painful.

I have watched my city wrestle with racism and the fall out.

I have now seen my grown daughter’s city do the same.

Do I know any better how to speak?

I have preached at least 1500 different sermons to the same church.

I have led worship as many times, designed services to lead people to God.

I have prayed with children, youth and adults to accept Christ.

Do I know any better how to speak?

I have guided my own children through the education system fighting for their disabilities to be accommodated.

I have guided other youth through the system helping them fight for their rights.

I have supported teachers and administrators and students in hearing each other.

Do I know any better how to speak?

I have gone in the name of Christ to places in the city that others fear.

I have gone in the name of Christ to tiny Togo where they serve a big God.

I have served my denomination on committees and commissions and at conferences.

Do I know any better how to speak?

What have I gained in three decades that helps me speak for God?

I hope I have learned to listen.

I hope the pain of others has lodged in my heart.

I hope the hope of others has secured a place beside the pain.

Perhaps I am no less young in knowing how to speak.

But from the beginning like Jeremiah God has sent me anyway.

Obedience stays my hand and my mouth.

And the promise of God, “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you.”

So be it Lord.

Ugly is as Ugly Does

Lately I've been ruminating on beauty as society judges it, and in particular how it affects women, although men are not immune to the attraction of being thought of as attractive. Many studies have shown the advantages of being seen as physically appealing as opposed to not so much.

Women in particular want to be seen as beautiful, mostly because since before anyone can remember that quality has been valued for them. If the chief job of a woman centers on wifedom and motherhood, then beauty helps achieve that precious position of acquiring a husband. So traditionally, women need to be pretty.

I love this poem my friend DJ posted recently:




Somehow we have valued beauty over other things we should find more important. My concern heightened recently due to public shaming based on appearance. Blue Ivy, the daughter of Beyonce, has been called ugly because she more closely resembles her father Jay Z than her mother. Rumer Willis, daughter of Bruce Willis and Demi Moore has suffered the same taunts. In a recent roast Peyton Manning joked that Ann Coulter won the Kentucky Derby. When I read that I had to look up what on earth he meant, as his tasteless humor did not register. Although I wouldn't claim her political views, I cannot sanction comparing someone to a horse as funny or appropriate.

As this poet so aptly notes, what we should really value centers on accomplishment and ability not on outward appearance. We have little control over what we are born with, for good or ill. And who gets to decide what beauty is? Different standards dominate different cultures. When a dominant culture determines the standard, certain ethnic looks suffer more than others.

Along my walk through life I always find that the people who I grow to respect and love seem beautiful to me. Arrogance cannot hide behind a face that standards find attractive. I learned a great lesson when my great aunt Maggie required nursing home care. Maggie's hoped for suitor died in a long ago war and she never married. She would not have met the typical standard of beauty as promoted in magazines. Yet I listened with admiration at the nurse feeding her cooing, "She's so pretty." That nurse looked beyond cultural standards, straight to not just her heart, but her need to be loved and cared for. That's true beauty.

I feel confident saying that God's standard of beauty differs from our cultural choices. After all, I believe God made us all quite purposefully, and likes the variety of His own creations. Since I also believe God loves us all equally, surely he did not try to favor some with more beauty, but instead finds all of us beautiful.

I hope you can look in the mirror and believe that. And as you become convinced, I hope you can treat the others around you with the same positive regard. Beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder, so let's have the eyes of God and see it in everyone.