I just finished reading Dr. Beth Allison Barr's book The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth. Her book is well researched, arguments are clearly and strongly presented, and I whole heartedly agree that it's time for the Church to embrace a co-leader gender view of leadership in the Church. Barr echoes and historically summarizes much of what I have studied in scripture, heard, researched, discussed, and/or read from theologians including Carolyn Cutis James, Dr. Jackie Roese, Mike Erre, Kat Armstrong, Tim Fall, Matthew Shallenberger, Bonnie Lewis, Scott McKnight, Beth Moore, NT Wright, Skye Jethani, Phil Vischer, Marg Mowczko, Dr. Sandra Glahn, Zach Lambert, Dr. Glenn Kreider...it also echoes and summarizes my own personal experience in evangelical American church culture.
Before I go on into my personal experience and church struggle...
THANK YOU to the strong women theologians mentioned above who have modeled, authored, blogged, posted, taught, preached, and spoken into my life through your publications, personal conversations, classes, and voices. It is your leadership, my sisters, who are obedient to Christ Jesus that spur me onward.
Special thanks to Jackie, for being my true pastor: a shepherd of people who models our Good Shepherd. You lifted my head and spoke scripture into my pain and sorrow. When I cracked my head open on the glass ceiling, you and Steve bandaged my head and gave me glass of wine...you encourage me to "run" wherever God leads me...like Abram who just went in the direction God pointed, so I am fixed.
THANK YOU to the strong men theologians mentioned above who uplift and champion for the oppressed.
Special thanks to Dr. Glenn Kreider, who didn't tolerate a male student berating me in class because I was a woman seeking ministerial equipping... you reflected "the God who sees" when you saw me that day. You always manage to listen to my voice and never silence me...in fact, you have encouraged me to say more...
Jackie and Dr. Kreider have walked alongside me in my church wanderings (or "church wilderness" as Bonnie Lewis calls it in her Vox podcast with Mike Erre). When Erre co-hosted The Holy Post (episode 457) podcast with Phil Vischer and Kaitlyn Schiess, Skye Jethani interviewed Dr. Beth Allison Barr. It was an incredible episode for me personally as it precisely addressed my current liminality (or "in between place" as Kat Armstrong calls it) and the necessity of deconstructing church ideology (i.e. the ordination/role of women as leaders in the Church). Someone had written an email to Erre, asking about deconstruction and when to rebuild because she didn't know how long she could go on "without shelter." It is a heart wrenching reality, indeed: building an ideology, once thriving in that ideology, then suddenly what was constructed no longer holds up. Erre addressed the question, pointing to truth: "Jesus is your shelter."
Jackie and Kreider point me back to Jesus too.
I am a farmer. When I watch my hens sheltering their chicks, it makes sense to me that Jesus is my shelter. Jesus is one with God the Father and indeed "He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart" (Ps. 91:4).
To elaborate on the barnyard lesson: I am currently a chick without a coop, but I am clinging to my Father Hen (Johnny Cash shout out).
I grew up in an Evangelical Free church of America. The church truly was the hands and feet of Jesus to my mother when my father was incarcerated and she was a single mom. It was home...until it wasn't because my mom divorced and remarried...then she was asked to leave.
My older brother and I (then in middle school) didn't understand why we had to leave the church too. It was devastating. But my mom and step dad moved us to another city, so leaving the old church made more sense because of where we lived. My brother and I eventually found another E. Free church and that became my new church home...until it wasn't because then I went to college, played rugby, and joined the Army. No one pursued relationship with me or sought to follow up on my life.
My college years were the last season I was in a true church wilderness. But then, I didn't want anything to do with the church anyway. Now, in this church wilderness, I want everything to do with the church but I feel like the church doesn't want me back!
After college and military service, I married one of the most amazing humans, Eric. We moved to Austin, TX and had our first kid in 2005. Postpartum depression hit me hard...as hard as I wanted a truck to hit me and end my life... My mother recommended I find a MOPs (Mothers of Preschoolers) group and get professional help. I followed my mother's advice because she is a smart lady (she was a part of the first MOPs groups ever in CO when my dad was incarcerated for the first time).
My husband and I eventually became members at the church who hosted MOPs in Austin. We had more kids, got super involved in the church ministry, and it was home...until it wasn't because then I went to seminary...
I had faithfully served that church in Austin for over a decade: MOPs, women's Bible study, children's ministry, and youth ministry...often overlapping ministries. Eric and I were the "20%s" (20% of the people who do 80% of the work). Then suddenly, once I started seminary, I caught a whiff of something…
Growing up in the north, maybe I missed it...maybe because of my childhood trauma I couldn’t see it or because of my “liberal” mother and stepfather I wasn’t exposed to it...maybe because of growing up being taught to have the heart of King David (a man), I just assumed I was on equal footing as men...maybe because I surpassed most males mentally in academia and even physically during my time in the military I thought I was different...maybe because I was literally a “soldier, athlete, and farmer” (2 Tim. 2:4-6) I had insight into pastoring and preaching and ministry…
But alas...patriarchy violently dealt with me.
I will never forget the first warning signs: I didn’t know that’s what they were, I thought I just misunderstood. I had called a pastor at our church, looking for some guidance and advice on seminary courses. My heart was to serve our church and who better to tell me how to serve than a pastor I had been serving alongside in ministry for years. When I told him Eric encouraged me to go to seminary (as women’s Bible study began to feel like I was spiritually starving…) he thought out loud, “I guess it’s okay for you to go to seminary...I mean your kids are going to school during the day…” (I was confused...I didn’t know why my kids had anything to do with my masters degree in theology). He continued, “Well, Jamie, to be honest I just don’t know what you need to go to seminary for...I mean, the church paid for me to go after I got a degree in business...I was interning as youth pastor and they wanted me to be the full time youth pastor…but there isn’t really anything for you to do.”
What? There isn’t really anything for me to do…?!
He meant, there was no need to go to seminary because our church didn’t ordain or hire women as pastors. He assumed I was pursuing an MA in theology for the office in the church. I wanted to go to seminary because, as I mentioned before, I felt like I was spiritually starving. For over a decade, I did what I was supposed to do. I attended the services, all the retreats, all the trainings, all the small groups, did all the ministries...all the things you’re supposed to do when you are a part of the church. But then I started wondering if there was more...more things to ponder about God, different ways of ministry...there seemed to be a limit to what a church (even a mega church) could offer. So my husband researched seminaries for me and suggested I apply to DTS.
I didn’t care about a title. I cared about the church and how I could be equipped to serve others best. And I didn’t feel like I was getting equipped by church for the ministries God was calling me into.
My husband and I ended up buying a small farm outside of Austin. The commute was hard. Our kids got older and involved in our local town’s sports and school activities. It became harder to stay connected to people in Austin but we kept at it. Then the children’s ministry director called me. I had been mentoring her when an executive pastor had accused her of causing dissention and being “unrepentant.” I knew this accusation was completely ungrounded. It is not my story to share details of the events that lead up to her resignation or the resignation of the women’s ministry director that same year, but both “resignations” were the remaining ashes of women who had once burned brightly only to be extinguished by patriarchy and toxic masculinity.
I sat with Jackie, sharing the story and asking for advice on what to do. I had discussed the situation with the children’s ministry director’s boss, a male pastor. He agreed that what had happened, that what was happening was wrong. I pleaded with him to talk to the executive pastor on her behalf. He refused. He simply said, “You talk to him.” Jackie painted the picture for me: the male pastor over the female director would lose his job...all I would lose is my church. She went on to explain that if I confronted the executive pastor and called him out on his treatment of women, all my years of dedicated service to that church would be erased. “It’s like your service for over a decade is like a bank account...you go into that office and all your money will be gone.”
Was my mentee worth the withdrawl? Was the women’s ministry director really my problem too? Were women in “leadership” at my church worth it? Absolutely.
Did I make a difference? I don’t know.
I went toe to toe with that executive pastor. He used scripture to defend his position, I countered with scripture to show the error. Ultimately, he accused me of getting involved in business that wasn’t my business. I insisted that matters of the church were my business and respectfully thanked him for his time and for listening. He told me, “I can see you are learning a lot in seminary…” He picked his words carefully, adding, “I am glad I could make you feel like your voice matters.”
That was all I needed to hear. My voice really didn’t matter. It was his patriarchal duty simply to make me feel like I mattered. He made it clear he was going to do whatever he wanted and I was powerless. Even when I voiced concern to an elder, he said, “in all the years I’ve known him, he has never made a mistake.” (I call bullshit). Mistakes were made, I just wasn’t privy to them.
Actions speak louder than words. Words and action together are deafening. My husband and I, with heavy hearts, left our church. The church we had checked our kids into Sunday school and bible study at least twice a week for over a decade...the church where we forged lifelong friendships...the church we loved and where the people (not the pastors) loved us back. In the months that followed, even more heartache was added. No one, NO ONE in leadership reached out to us. No elders. No pastors. No one. Truly, walking into that office erased us.
It has been years since we left. There seemed to be a mass exodus after we were gone...not because we left but because other stalwarts of the faith caught a whiff of something too…
I hear from these people here and there. We still gather as friends, like refugees still trying to process what happened and how it came to this...Some people found other churches to flourish in. Some wandered longer than others. Some remained. Some still haven’t found a home.
Eric and I still haven’t found a church home. We attended numerous churches, trying to get connected, but it just isn’t “clicking.” It’s getting harder to “fit.” Eric and I view our marriage as co-leaders: he leads in what he's good at (engineering, coaching, cooking) and I lead in what I am good at (farming, academia, preaching/teaching). I founded a nonprofit ministry and am the current CEO. I am also starting a doctorate program in the fall...going back to DTS, which oddly, does feel like “home”...until (I suppose) it won’t at some point…
Because only God can ever really feel like home. Home isn’t the domestic sphere (where I need to consider my children before pursuing higher education), or the church (where we “do life” with other believers), or the school (that equips me for ministry)...home is the shelter/protection/covering given us by God through Jesus Christ.
Maybe this chick will end up in a coop one day. I am looking for a coop that allows all believers to freely exercise their spiritual gifts regardless of gender. I am searching for a coop that equips its congregants for ministry and isn’t offended by hard conversations. But, for today, I live in liminality without a coop, without a home. Nevertheless, Father Hen has me covered while I am in the wilderness.
