To My Fellow Robust Complementarians

Figure One: Some baggage. Not pictured are my copies of "So You're Thinking About Going to Seminary" and "How to Stay Christian in Seminary," because I think I might have burned those.

NOTE: I am really good at angering people on both sides of an issue. So let me get these caveats out there.

Egalitarian friends, this is post is obviously not for you. Feel free to eavesdrop, and possibly judge this post, but there are plenty of good egalitarian responses to Dr. Piper's latest dictum. I have read many of them, and some of them are truly helpful (even to a complementarian such as myself). But this post is not one of those. I am attempting something very different here.

Strict complementarian friends, this post isn't for you, either. While I'm glad that you're reading this, it's also a little weird that you're here. "Inconsistent," I believe your Pastor John would say. So feel free to read along, and maybe even weigh in, but if you agree that women shouldn't be seminary professors, then you and I have actually less in common on this issue than I have in common with our egalitarian siblings. And that should tell you something.

And friends from both camps--don't worry. By the time I'm done, I'll probably have angered plenty of the in-between folks I'm actually writing to, as well. I'm an equal opportunity offender, and I've come to accept that. But I am also an equal opportunity grieve-er, and that is much harder to bear. So pray for us all.



Dear Siblings who Live in the Complicated Grey Area,

I spent the past week in a flu-haze, so I only caught snippets of Dr. John Piper's missive regarding the dangers of women as seminary professors. A few texts and conversations here and there, asking what I thought. Mostly commiserating that once again, Piper gets to set the agenda, call the shots, and further entrench the idea that either you're a (wildly liberal) egalitarian or you're a (staunch, faithful) complementarian, with room for neither nuance nor nonsense.

It seems that there are a lot of us in "conservative" circles who don't agree with Pastor John. But there aren't many of us speaking that truth (that I can find, anyway) online. And pretty much only women writers, at that. Yes, there were a lot of good egalitarian responses, many of which pointed out the ways in which Dr. Piper's words are hurtful, random, and themselves inconsistent.

So I won't be directly rebutting Dr. Piper's post here. Perhaps that will come another day. Today, I want to assume that we're on the same page--that we both thought the podcast was unhelpful, inaccurate, and misrepresentative of where we live and what we believe. Today, I need to believe--despite the lack of representative blog posts and articles--that I am not alone in inhabiting this marginal space of non-Piper complementarianism. Today, I don't want so much to convince anyone to believe differently at either extreme, as to ask like-minded siblings to consider acting on these shared beliefs a little differently.

In my requests below, I've tried to be gracious. I've tried to be honest. And I've tried to be vulnerable. Rather than trying to point fingers, I'm trying to reach out trembling hands and ask for partnership, for help. Because we're in this together, right? I hope none of you feel too targeted or shamed by what I'm saying below. Forgive me (or at least let me know!) if you do. But I can't help but hope that some of these small steps could actually make a big difference.

So if you fit in this centrist, awkward space with me, would you please consider the following three ideas?


One. Given his latest unkindness, please stop quoting John Piper in your sermons, talks, Bible studies, books, social media posts, classes, etc. Yes, his positive contributions to Evangelicalism cannot be understated in the areas of world missions, "Christian Hedonism," and the like. But he wasn't the first to say those good things, and he hasn't been the last. As good as his stuff is, I promise that you can find another quote to use when you want to talk about the glory of God and our happiness.

I've pleaded before for you to no longer allow the Three Female Ghosts that Haunt the Church to preach your sermons. No longer quoting Dr. Piper is a very specific way you can go about this. Not convinced that using Piper quotes is really that damaging? An analogy: Southern Presbyterian friends who care deeply about racial reconciliation, you've learned to stop using Robert Lewis Dabney quotes, right? Dabney had a way with words and some truly beautiful things to say, especially in the areas of ecclesiology and soteriology. But most folks I know who do want to avoid being lumped in with his segregationist ideals (and hateful, dehumanizing rhetoric) have still decided to look elsewhere for sermon anecdotes and inspirational quotes. So yes--I'm drawing a line in the sand--but at least to me, a Piper quote is as hurtful as a Dabney quote. At best, it's tone deaf. At worst, it communicates alignment with someone who thinks I am in direct sin by doing campus ministry. John Piper thinks that women should never have direct, personal "guidance and influence" over a man, in any sphere, ever. He thinks that when I sit down with a male student or faculty member to encourage, challenge, and pray for them, I am "violating their sense of manhood." If that's not a direct indictment of who I am and what I've been called to do, I don't know what is. If you agree with Piper on this, then go in peace, friend (but didn't we already discuss that this post isn't for you?). If you disagree, then please see how much it grieves me when Dr. Piper is quoted on a variety of subject matters.

Don't hear what I'm not saying. I'm not saying don't read, appreciate, or seek a nuanced understanding of Dr. Piper. (I'm not even saying that about Dabney, actually.) I'm not saying burn all his books and reject his teaching entirely. I did--in a fit of pique, I'll admit--shove A Hunger for God and Let the Nations Be Glad to the back of the bookshelf. But I've kept them. By all means, dig into his prolific library when you want to better understand the importance of missions, or read his website if you want encouragement in areas of daily faith and practice. Just please, please, don't quote him. If you want to show support for myself and women like me, find somebody else to quote who hasn't so very clearly articulated such a toxic (and I believe, false!) view of complementarianism.


Two. Please stop letting John Piper define the entirety of complementarianism. I am begging you, be vocal about your positive views on women leading in appropriate and healthy ways, and be very clear that you disagree with Dr. Piper's stances on the matter. It is not enough to try to define our own "robust," "moderate," or "soft" complementarianism, where we articulate what we believe is a Biblical view of gender. We must also articulate what it isn't. Really, we need a new term, so as to distance ourselves completely from what John Piper says about gender roles. So if anybody's got that, I would be incredibly grateful.

I've pleaded before, more obliquely, for leaders to be willing to graciously and publicly disagree with Piper's brand of strict complementarianism. After his podcast indicting the very idea of a female seminary professor, I'm willing to be more direct. I've heard some of you respectfully disagree with Dr. Piper on his views regarding mode and recipient of baptism. If you can lovingly say that you disagree with him about a sacrament, then I don't understand why you can't add his views on women to the list. If you're already saying, "I think my brother John is way off when he says that sprinkling infants is sinful," please, please, add "I think my brother John is way off when he says that women seminary professors are by nature sinful" to your repertoire. If you are already saying that women can be CEOs, can be seminary professors, can do campus ministry--and some of you have, and publicly--then please, please, also articulate that you respectfully disagree with Dr. Piper when he says that they can't. If you won't put two and two together to get four, then I start to wonder if you ever really did affirm me in my calling. I start to wonder if you meant it, or if you've changed your mind since then. And if you won't put two and two together to get four, please believe me when I tell you that too many of the men (and women) who are listening to you will put two and two together to make five. And that twisted math is devastating to me, women like me, and the church in general.  It's the very reason why we need--and again, if you are a "robust" complementarian, you have already admitted that you agree with this--women seminary professors in the first place. We need the complementary nature of men and women, partnering together, to help the church thrive. We who are women need to know that men (under whose leadership we willingly submit ourselves) are listening, learning, and lamenting the ways that we sin against each other. You who are men need to know that women (whom you have been entrusted to lead as servant-leaders in the sacrificial legacy of Christ) are actually wounded when Dr. Piper's words go unchecked. We all need to be reminded that the embodied King Jesus came to earth as a man (and that's beautiful and it matters) to love and save men and women alike.

Again, don't hear what I'm not saying. I'm not saying you have to be hateful, or pedantic, or even very splashy about how Dr. Piper's brand of complementarianism is not your own. Just be honest, clear, and consistent about it. If I understand correctly, you and I believe that the complementarianism we see in the Bible is neither toxic nor harmful. We believe that certain boundaries aren't limiting, but rather freeing. We believe the opposite of what society tells us about gender roles, but we also believe the opposite of what Pastor John tells us. There is a third way, and I am so weary of it getting lost in the middle of false unity. I, myself, siblings, am so weary of being lost in the middle of this false unity.


Three. Finally, please support, bankroll, pray, advocate, and fight for the women in seminary that you know. Whether they are students or professors, it is not an easy thing to be a woman in a traditionally male-dominated field. I can ultimately only speak for myself, but it is a daily death to be the only woman in your program, in class, on a faculty, at a conference, or on a panel, or in any number of situations.

I've pleaded before for folks to understand what it's like to be the only woman in a theological setting. It's exhausting. And now, as I prepare to begin my seventh. year. in. seminary. (!) still the only woman in my MDiv program (and usually the only woman in my classes), John Piper's words are especially hard to bear. For the Lord's own mysterious reasons (no doubt part of which is my own sanctification and being humbled), I am at a seminary with only one female professor (and she not in the MDiv program). We've had women teaching MDiv classes in the past (and the Homiletics course, no less!), and the majority of my professors are supportive of my endeavors. But if Dr. Piper's rhetoric is allowed to continue to grow and influence others, then myself and women like me will still have to deal with a lot of vitriol and disdain. Whether my seminary hires female professors or not, or whether other women will join me in the MDiv program or not (please, oh, please! COME!) is secondary to (though of course ultimately part of) what the climate will be like. When Dr. Piper is allowed to blithely say that oh, sure--women can be in seminary or whatever, but he is not held accountable to what women in seminary need in the way of support, it's still harmful. And when Dr. Piper is allowed to offer hollow, nominal support for women in seminary without being held accountable to the hurt that his words cause, the damage is compounded.

So don't hear what I'm not saying. I'm not trying to change the minds of egalitarians to a complementarian position. I'm not even trying to change the minds of Pastor John supporters to reject what he's preaching. Yes, I'd love for egalitarians to be less alienated by and suspicious of the true complementarian position. Indeed, I'd be grateful if more folks stopped agreeing with toxic complementarianism and chose instead that arduous middle path to which I feel called. But what I'm really asking for is those who are already with me in orthodoxy to join me in orthopraxy. If you were angered by Dr. Piper's podcast but are in the complementarian camp, please speak up. If you disagree with the idea that female seminary professors can't be part of a healthy complementarian seminary, please, pray for those of us in the seminary trenches. And if you want to put your money, time, and emotional energy where your mouth is, then, please--fund more women in all areas of seminary. I am grateful for the scholarships that I do receive, and am not above accepting more. And I would be over the moon for an endowed chair specifically for a woman professor in my program!

And know that regardless, myself and women like me will persevere, because that's what God has asked us to do.

Robustly yours,
A Fellow Awkward Centrist.

To My Fellow Americans (Part 4)

From the cover of "Body Broken: Can Republicans and Democrats Sit in the Same Pew?"
by Charles D. Drew, New Growth Press, 2012; under US Copyright Fair Use Laws.
Cover design by Brandon Hill Design.

I know the issue is more than mere political divide, but it's not less than that, either. 

Dear Eighty-One Percent,

I've seen a lot of sympathy offered for those who were hurt in Charlottesville this weekend. Social media is full of calls for "loving thoughts" and prayer for #Charlottesville. Regular folks and celebrities alike are tweeting their condemnation of the violence, with hashtags like #BeKind and #Resist. It's definitely "trending."

There are also a lot of folks who are doing even more than engaging on social media. People of all skin tones and backgrounds are peacefully protesting across the country. Charities are providing the opportunity to help with the legal and medical needs of the victims. Wealthy folk are putting their money where their mouths are, tangible support to match their tweets.

And yet.

Remember the "Occupy Wall Street" protests? Folks also engaged in a variety of ways around that cause. "The One Percent" became synonymous with privilege and being out-of-touch. In the same way that the "1%" of Americans is made up of privileged folks, so too is the "81%" of Evangelicals who voted for Donald Trump. A privilege which, though not based solely in financial wealth, still affords the 81% the ability to ignore the reality behind Charlottesville. To rest in their privilege and stay out-of-touch. So many people are asking, "How can we help?" Will those of you who voted for President Trump actually listen to the answer?

During the election, Christian people of color and minority status said: "We are afraid. This man encourages xenophobia and exceptionalism. His violent message will lead to violent actions." Many of those who would later vote for Trump--the 81%--responded: "No, you're reading into it. Don't be so paranoid. Your fears are unfounded and unreasonable."

As the election progressed, Christian people of color and minority status pleaded: "We are afraid. This man is backed by hateful people in the alt-right, anti-semitic movement. His words and behavior toward the most vulnerable are predatory, disdainful, and dangerous. If he is president, many of us--our children and families--will suffer." Yet Christian folks replied: "Abortion is too big of an issue to let go of! Our next president will choose at least one Supreme Court Justice! The 'least of these' talked about by Jesus were the unborn, and that's it. Your fears are distracting us from the real battle for life."

When the electoral college turned fiction into fact, Christian people of color and minority status cried out: "We are afraid! How could this happen? How could 81% of our brothers and sisters in the church care so little for our well-being that they were willing to ignore the threat of Trump? How could they look the other way regarding his misogyny, racism, and lies? Where do we go when we feel unsafe in our own churches?" And the 81% lashed out: "Our hands were tied. We had an impossible choice. Hillary is evil, and we have to protect babies. It hurts us that you say you feel unsafe. Your well-being isn't threatened by Trump's presidency! Please stop being so divisive."

When President-Elect Trump named alt-right, white supremacists to his cabinet and other important positions, Christian people of color and minority status wept and raged. When Trump took oaths to defend and protect our country, yet policies against the vulnerable began to take shape, sometimes Christian people of color and minority status ran out of things to say. Because fears were being realized, and the damage was already done. If these traumatized brothers and sisters did speak up, far too many of the 81% didn't want to hear it: "Don't say you told us so. This is different than what you predicted. There's not proof these things are related. It's not our business--that's what we have elected officials for. You're still being so paranoid. Hasn't the election divided us enough already? Could we please stop talking about all this and get back to gospel issues?"

And now Charlottesville has happened. Now an act of terror upon American soil by radical dissidents has occurred, and Trump supporters are surprised, horrified, and want to help. Now the blood of the vulnerable has been shed--yet again--and Christian people of color and minority status will raise weary heads yet again, to ask: "We are afraid--will you hear us? Please don't make excuses. Just listen. Please don't vote for President Trump in four years. Please don't assume that we're paranoid and unreasonable. Please start writing and calling your elected officials (of all affiliations) to tell them that not only is this violence unacceptable, so is the rhetoric and permissiveness which has spawned it. Please, brothers and sisters, don't turn a blind eye and rest in your privilege. We don't need you to beat yourselves up for voting for Trump. We need you to listen to the Holy Spirit, repent, and get busy grieving, protesting, and figuring out what God would have you do differently."

So, dear siblings in the 81%, will you listen? Will you lament with us? Will you cling to grace more than a political party? Will you move forward in repentance and in hope at what God is doing amidst the chaos? Will you stop making excuses for the current administration, stop berating those who are afraid, and enter the messy world of vulnerable people where there are no easy answers? I hope so.

Afraid yet clinging to Jesus,
A wounded sister.

To Those with Influence

Dear Folks in Charge,

I could be writing this letter to many high-profile pastors and theologians. Asking those influential leaders to please reconsider, see reason, or think about how their bold statements affect those of us in the pew. But I'm not. I'm writing to you, Professor. I'm writing to you, Pastor. I'm writing to you, Elder; and you, Chairperson; and you, Dean. I'm writing to all the people that I actually know in some way, who seem to actually care about what I'm thinking. I'm writing to the leaders--in all my spheres of life--who have some measure of influence on these outspoken "rock star" Christians. I'm writing to those folks who seem to still be willing to listen to the average person, as opposed to those whose arrogance seems to be blinding them to listening to anyone other than those they see as equals.

I know that's a brassy thing to say, to classify them as arrogant. I know that it doesn't necessarily lessen the blow to say that you--leaders that I do know in some way--are not as arrogant. I should clarify. We're all arrogant. I'm arrogant. (I think we're all well aware of that.) But I think the lack of humility and God-centeredness (which all humans struggle with) shows itself in different ways. It manifests itself differently in different folks, and it looms large in the lives of leaders whose opinions go unchallenged and unchecked. I know these fellow leaders are your friends, and hearing them or their ideas maligned isn't easy. I know they are, in some ways, also my leaders, and as such deserve respect according to their office. But your friendship with them is precisely why I am writing you, friends. Because someone's got to be willing to say something to them in a public sphere, and that sure isn't me. For several reasons.

Let me be clear. I am not asking you to disown these fellow servants, to throw them under the proverbial bus, or to make a spectacle of them. I know there are some conversations--some of which you are no doubt having--that are best left private for both Biblical and human reasons. But there are two reasons why I am entreating you to openly speak to your fellow leaders--for our sake, and for theirs.

For the sake of the church, we need to speak out against evil rhetoric. You know this. You are very good at doing this in many ways. You speak out against the evils of misogyny, racism, and violence against the helpless. This is, in part, why I so joyfully submit myself to your leadership. I believe in you. You give beautiful, passionate sermons and lectures about pursuing holiness, about the work of God in bringing his shalom and justice. You make it clear what you stand for, and I am grateful. And yet.

And yet you align yourself--in a way that makes it seem wholeheartedly--with those who do not stand against those evils. It seems to me that there is a prevailing thought in leadership that if you just ignore the troubling rhetoric of your siblings, they will cease and desist. I think it's time to speak this truth: they are not stopping. They have not stopped. And until they are called--graciously and lovingly--to account for their theology and how they have caused pain, I do not believe they will stop.

Let me give an example of what I would love to hear. I think we've already agreed that I'm being brazen here, so I'll not hem and haw around what I am asking you to do, dear leaders. If you were to say--publicly (on a blog, in an article, a tweet, a sermon message, a podcast, etc.) and not just privately--"I love this dear brother x. His heart for x ministries is evident. He has been a powerful force used by the Lord for x. For this I am grateful. But his views on women, and what he presents as complementarianism, is not what I stand for. It is not what this organization/school/platform stands for. We believe in the robust support of men and women, in various spheres of influence, as leaders in their fields. Though we support a complementarian view which holds men and women as inherently different and with different, God-ordained roles in the home and the church, this does not play out in a 1950's 'secretaries, teachers, wives, and mothers only' way. Women can be CEOs. Women can be lay leaders in the church. Women can teach, they can engineer, they can innovate, they can minister, they can write, they can speak, they can lead. We support this."

I know there are several responses to what I just wrote. To my egalitarian friends, I apologize. I know there doesn't seem to be a distinction here, between different brands of complementarianism. I can only say that I am sorry for the pain this causes you, and beg you to continue to dialogue with me on this, trusting what you know of me and other robust complementarians to help the conversation along.

On the flip side, to folks who agree with hyper-complementarianism's restrictions and think that I am theologically way off-base here, I'm curious to know why you're reading this blog and allowing me to have influence in your thinking--especially if you're male. I would love to dialogue about this, too. I will say that the bold statement above is only a paraphrasing of what I have heard many leaders say in response to the question of women's roles and what robust complementarianism looks like. These are not radical statements that I made up. What is radical is someone actually calling for these statements to be held over against statements which do not affirm women as any sort of leaders or having any influence over men, ever.

And to the leaders whom I have paraphrased above, who have said these affirming, life-giving things about the roles and leadership of women, you may not see the point. Because yes, you are already saying these important things. You are standing up for those who have no voice in a fallen world. And for that I am really and truly grateful. But I think we are on the same page when I say that we want to see these things changed by the power of the gospel. We want to see less sexism, less dismissive mistrust of women. We are working together to see fewer women grieved by ignorance, abuses, and bad theology in the church. We believe that God is doing these things.

Why then the letter? you ask. Why not just keep doing the good work, fighting the good fight? Well, in addition to the fact that the schtick of my blog is writing letters, I'll answer that the advancement of the cause requires more. It requires more than just two ships passing in the night. Rather than two competing views of women's roles, there needs to be an actual dialogue. And sometimes, an actual conflict. I am asking you, leaders, to say hard things to these other leaders. To say "No, friend. You and I do not agree on this, and I must speak out here, even though I may risk our friendship. I do this because I will stand on my theological convictions with integrity and the understanding that what I say matters to the men and women in our classrooms, our churches, our businesses and our organizations. You and I may even have to agree to disagree, but I will not, by my silence, give the impression that I am ambivalent about this." That is the kind of support I am asking for.

I get called an instigator a lot. Sometimes the accusations are true, and I need to repent. Sometimes, they are wholly untrue, and others need to step back and evaluate themselves. Most often, it is a muddy mix of the two, where I am in need of good leadership to help me listen, rethink, and repent where my attitude is bad. Most often, there is something good to be said in there, mixed in with my anger and heartache and passionate stubbornness. So lead, dear ones. Lead by being willing to speak whenever anyone in your sphere of influence needs guidance. This includes me, but it also includes these other leaders. It must include both, if we are to be as impartial as Paul exhorted us in James 2.

There is room to both affirm the views you agree with, and respectfully speak out against the views with which you do not hold. And there is a way to do that which does not denigrate the person. You know that. You've taught me that. And when it comes to speaking out for the sake of these leaders--no matter the subject--I beg of you, show us some of the "iron sharpening iron" that is such an integral part of the Body of Christ. Hold them accountable, and by doing so bless them with your speaking the truth in love, and us with your advocacy and clarifications. Help those of us in the pew learn how to actually engage one another on hard topics, not how to just "get along."

This really could be about any issue--missions, race, money, anger, etc. I have just chosen one that is especially painful right now. Basically, I'm asking you to stand up for what you already believe in. I do believe you are already working out these issues privately, which is wise and gracious of you. And I'm not asking you to shame your fellow leaders. But please also have some of these conversations publicly, for the benefit of the church. And if you believe that I have sinned in penning this, then I trust that you will tell me, graciously and firmly. I trust that you will make your position clear, both in private and in public. I ask for no less for your fellow leaders.

Gratefully,
A fellow follower of Jesus, and one entrusted to your care.

To my Brothers in our Denomination

NOTE: Well, here we are again. My denomination's online presence is in an uproar. Friends of other denominations, I hope this doesn't grieve you too badly. Thank you for your patience. Egalitarian friends, I know this will grieve you, and for that I can only say I'm sorry. That, and thank you for loving myself and other flawed siblings, anyway. Thank you for listening with the same grace as when I wrote this blog post.

Today, I will write to my denominational brothers, some of whom have acted very harshly. I will try to write to my denominational sisters soon.


Dear Brothers in the Lord,

I have been incredibly saddened as I've read ungracious responses to this podcast at Truth's Table. This is not just as a theological debate, it is discourse that affects actual people in our churches. When Christina, Ekemini, and Michelle spoke strongly about the painful experiences of women in reformed circles--the feeling of "Gender Apartheid"--it struck a chord in me. I wept to know that I wasn't alone in my experiences of being belittled and dismissed.  When I saw the responses of some to the podcast--not merely negative, but condemning and hateful--I wept again.

To those of you who are in quite an uproar right now about the ideas from the podcast--by all means, engage it. Critique it. Give Biblical reasons for what you see as error. These wonderful women welcome discussion. They desire to see iron sharpen iron. But express your concerns Biblically. That means without hatred and without vitriol. It means with passion that is restrained by patience and a desire for reconciliation and growth, for the peace and purity of the church.

To those of you who were blessed by it--please speak up. Some of you are in the discussion already. Some of you are blissfully ignorant about all the hullabaloo. Well, brothers, it's time. It's time to take a stand. Not a stand saying, "I completely agree" or a stand saying "I completely disagree." No, a stand saying,

"I completely reject human beings denigrating the image of God in other human beings."
That kind of a stand.

The kind of a stand which might even disagree with some of the exegesis on the topic at hand, but holds oneself and others to a higher standard while discussing disagreements.

Or the kind of a stand which might fully agree with everything said in the podcast, but still refuses to be arrogant and is determined to be open to loving correction.

The kind of a stand that Jesus made.

Because Jesus preached truth. Bold, earth-shaking (literally!) truth. But the truth he preached brought healthy conviction, an invitation to "sin no more," and the freedom that his sacrifice brings. He was hardest on the religious establishment of the day. He was most patient with the marginalized. And he got angriest when he saw people oppressing, misleading, and demeaning others.

So, brothers who disagreed strongly with the podcast--let's talk about why. I wish I had actually had more time to reflect on what I did and didn't agree with in the podcast. But "the gauntlet" was thrown, harsh words were spoken, and suddenly I couldn't just focus on the mistreatment of women as a theoretical idea as referenced in the podcast. Instead, I was seeing it played out before me, in living color and for God and everyone to see.

I won't mention specific names, because at this point, I'm not really concerned with the individual actions of some men. I'm concerned about the reformed movement as a whole. We all need to learn more about our inherently sinful attitudes toward women, many of which have been taught and reinforced and upheld in reformed circles. But I have references if you want them.

Brothers, It is disrespectful (1 Peter 2:17) to dismissively say that the podcast was "mostly [just] the women pontificating," especially when it's obvious that you disagree with what the sisters said. Disrespect for women's voices is evident here.

Brothers, it is hurtful and unhelpful (Matthew 12: 34-37) to show such disgust for other human beings, by saying "If you want your ears to bleed, just listen to the podcast..." When you call it "horrible" and "nonsense," you have made it clear that you do not merely disagree with their opinions, but you also don't respect their intelligence. Did the use of the word "penis" really make you feel "so dirty" that you "determined to take a bath"? Do you not see how hurtful and shameful it is for someone to be told that her speech is "utterly repugnant and a dishonor to the cause of Christ"? Did you really comment about another sister in Christ that she "speaks with the tongue of the serpent"... and think that's acceptable or honoring to the Lord?

Brothers, it is poor reasoning (Romans 12:1-2) to say that because you are "unaware of any church that doesn't let women greet at the door, share their testimonies (not disguised sermons, mind you), and play an active role in ministry," that means those churches and rules don't exist. When you are dismissive of our experiences and the inequalities in the church, you are dismissive of us. And you are teaching the next generation to be dismissive and uncaring, as well.

Brothers, it is unkind and unwise (James 3:13-18) to say that if we "simply celebrated the contributions that women made in ministry in the church already this whole debate on gender roles would go away, because it would be clear that we staunch defenders of gender roles love and celebrate women while refusing to budge on biblical practice." I wonder if the Truth's Table ladies feel loved and celebrated by the harshness of your critiques? I certainly don't always feel that way in reformed circles... unless I'm willing to adhere to cultural, extra-Biblical standards. And to imply that the debate would just go away if you cheered us on shows just how much of the depth of pain expressed has been lost on you.

Brothers, it is dismissive (Ezekiel 34:15-16) to say that someone is "just another pagan" although she has been vetted by her pastor, session, and seminary professors. Even if her statement was problematic, such a flippant response shows not only an absence of love toward a sibling, but also a heartbreaking disregard for those who are lost.

Brothers, it is demeaning (Ephesians 4:31-32) to treat a grown woman like a child, to interrogate her as though she were stupid, and to demand information from her as though she is an enemy and a spy. I simply cannot think that a statement like "... do your elders know you are hosting a podcast? Are they aware of it? Do they listen? What church? Email of your stated clerk please" is anything other than rudeness both to her and her elders.

And brothers, it is unloving and embarrassingly childish (1 Corinthians 13:8-12) to call anyone--let alone a woman--"Holier than thou [last name]" and reply in all caps (the internet equivalent of shouting). As a dear ordained brother said, "It's like this whole discussion validates the need for the podcast."

I could go on, but I won't. But if any sibling who is reading this wondered if these brothers really were being hateful and divisive, I hope this answers your question.

And... brothers who agree with all or some of the podcast--please speak up/keep speaking up. We need you now, more than ever. The brothers above need to know that you are in solidarity with us--the marginalized and disrespected, even if you agree with some of the critiques. Those brothers need to know that their opinions are not infallible, nor are they necessarily the majority opinion. And they need to know that there are consequences to real women (and men) from their actions. They need to know that you see them, and disagree with their behavior, even if you agree with their theological stances. Those brothers need to know that hateful attitudes will be called out just as quickly as will other "troubling" theological ideas. We all need to know that.

We all need to know that Jesus has not gone silent in his Church.

We need to be reminded, again and again, that his Church will prevail, not because she's glorified yet, nor even very sanctified currently, but because God is faithful when we are faithless. We need to know that valuing the imago dei and valuing strong theology are not mutually exclusive; but rather essential to each other. We need to know, and be reminded, how to love each other well.

Striving to serve Jesus with you,
A Sister in the Lord

To a Princely King, a Self-proclaimed King, and the King of All Kings

"Movement to Overcome," Michael Pavlovsky, Memphis Civil Rights Museum

NOTE: This was supposed to be published for MLK Day. Clearly, it wasn't. I hope it's still an encouragement. I believe it's still timely. I believe discussion of Dr. King's legacy will remain timely for many, many years to come.

Dear Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,

I was first asked to write this piece for The Well. I had it all planned out, especially after reading Michael Eric Dyson's beautifully controversial book about you. In some ways, you were the best of brothers. You fought hard for justice. You spoke for those who had been robbed of their God-given voice. You sacrificed much--most notably your life--for the cause of equality among human beings. You fought for all Christians--black and white--to see each other as brothers and sisters. A dear brother, and much missed.

But in some ways, you were not a good brother.

In I May Not Get There With You, Dr. Dyson talks about why it is important to see your entire story and not overlook who you truly were, the good and the bad. As I read it, I thought, "Yes! What a great word. I'll talk about what a good brother MLK was, then about how he wasn't perfect, and how women in the academy and professions can partner with good, but humanly flawed brothers, as we pursue the best of brothers--Jesus!" It was a great concept, and I was excited to write it.

I researched. I outlined. I drafted. I enjoyed the process. And then two things happened.

First, Trump won the election. And as it came to my attention that MLK Day 2017 would fall just four days before the Inauguration, I began to struggle with writing. Suddenly my neat categories were blown apart. As the time went on from November until the present, the lines between yourself and President (then Elect) Trump were in some ways clearer, but in some ways blurrier. And most of those "blurred lines" (yes, I'm quoting from that horrible song, because sadly, it's applicable here) were in the treatment of women. This did not help my writer's block any.

Secondly, I overcommitted myself to a number of projects, I missed the draft deadline, and I started to not just struggle with what to write, but to actually doubt if I could write it. Procrastination, fear, shame, and exhaustion all combined to make the work of writing about you just too hard. I knew you were flawed, and I could forgive you for those flaws. Until your flaws lined up too eerily with Mr. Trump's flaws, and then I had to re-think everything.

Ironically, it was that wrestling with your flaws that brought me back to writing, and purpose, and ultimately, back to thinking about Jesus--which is where I had wanted this piece to lead all along. Because I realized that you, too, dealt with procrastination, fear, shame, and exhaustion. You, too, made promises you did not keep, and you, too, had to rely on the saving grace of the gospel of Jesus Christ to make sense of things and keep going in faith.

So what do I want to say to you?  It seems a bit grandiose to say "I forgive you" when I never met you, never was affected by your infidelity or your crudeness. And yet, as a woman, aren't I? As a woman living in a culture where women are thought of as lesser, where women are debased, dehumanized, and objectified, don't I bear the burden of every one who has ever (myself included) allowed coarse talk about women? Who has allowed the sanctity of marriage to be cast aside to the idols of convenience and lust? Isn't the point of Dr. Dyson's book that if we are to properly celebrate the legacy of your life, we must do it whole-heartedly, without reserve, and without skimming over the uncomfortable parts?

Many amazing women of the 1960's Civil Rights Era put up with a lot of nonsense from men, including yourself. They persevered. They still do. And God used you to accomplish much for both men and women. God did that, and you and I can (and will, someday!) join our voices in praise of his work.

So I forgive you, Dr. King. I am incredibly grateful to your legacy. Because unlike some other leaders, you did point to Jesus. Unlike some other sinners, you wrestled with your sin, and depended desperately on the forgiveness of God. And that is what it looks like to partner with good brothers, such as yourself, who are also fallen, sinful men. We wrestle with our sin, and we depend desperately on the forgiveness of God.

With incalculable gratitude,
A sister and fellow activist.


Dear President Trump,

I really wrestled with whether to include you in this post or not. When I asked my dear husband, who is one of the most respectful men (of women, and of people in general) I know, he thought I shouldn't even mention you. Shouldn't sully the legacy of Dr. King by in any way putting you alongside him. On the one hand, I agree with this. In the same way that I will not waste my time (or my typing) mentioning the name of the Charleston shooter who took the lives of Rev. Sen. Clementa Pinckney and eight other beautiful souls, I don't want to waste this special time of reflecting on the work of Dr. King by entertaining hateful, non-peaceful, anti-gospel work.

But as I studied the life (and times) of Dr. King, the similarities to how you treat and think of women became too much to ignore.

Many would argue that you are far beyond Dr. King in your empowering of women. In fact, you have women in roles of leadership, where Dr. King honestly didn't. That still does not score you a point, sir. Because despite his infidelity, despite his rough talk, and ignorant attitude toward women leaders, Dr. King still exhibited restraint. Whereas you dismissed your crude comments about women as being mere "locker room talk," and therefore tried to justify your attitude, Dr. King had at least some sense of reason, of shame. Though he was both culpable and a product of his times, he was foremost a professing Christian. He was a man who knew he wasn't perfect and who had much to repent for.

Because in the end, what set Dr. King apart from you was the fact that he knew he was a sinner. He knew he needed Jesus. He knew he wasn't Jesus. Your words--where you say that you've never asked for forgiveness, because you don't need it--show that you are not a believer. Just on the level of basic beliefs, you have disqualified yourself. And that doesn't mean there isn't common grace at work in your life. No, far from it. Because I respect God as the ultimate authority, I will respect you. I will respect you as president, because I respect the office and the system that has produced it. Even if I feel like you yourself are not respecting the office nor our country, I will fight to stay respectful in my disagreements. Even as I point out what I believe are facts about your misogyny, even as I protest what I believe are violent statements against the most vulnerable, even as I disagree vehemently with your hateful speech about immigrants, I will do so properly, with gratitude for the privilege of being in this country. Not because I at all agree with you or your tactics, but because Dr. King showed a better way. Dr. King followed the way of Jesus.

Praying for you,
A (fellow) citizen.


Dear King Jesus,

I'm tired, dear elder brother. Worn out from being mad, sad, and everything in-between. I need your rest, for I am weary. I need your sanctifying work, for I am sinful. I need your affirming presence, for I am shamed and belittled. And I need your guidance, brother. I need your perfect example, your gracious welcome, your comforting and radical proclamation as the first fruit of the redemption that is to come. I need you. We need you--your church the world over. Heal us, Emmanuel. Heal our country in a way in which it has never really been. It's been yours all along--all things are--but we ask for hearts to be changed, Lord. We ask for your kingdom to come, on earth as it is in heaven. We ask for you to be exalted, for governments and institutions to cease, for the blessing to come of basking in your light alone. We don't ask for you to fill the presidency, Lord. We ask for you to fulfill the scriptures and magnify yourself. Come, Lord Jesus. We desperately need you.

Gratefully,
Your little sister.

To Those Who Want to Learn More

Dear Friends,

Many of my majority culture friends (and yes, I share majority culture privilege in some ways, too, but I also have some minority experiences) are asking, in the aftermath of the election, “How do I help?” I hear your hearts. I see your earnestness. And I believe you can help, can be a force for change. I believe you can do it.

But you might not like the answer as to how.

The election has revealed what’s been there all along: we have a race problem. I’ll say it again: We. Have. A. Race. Problem.

If that sentence makes you uncomfortable, good. This is not an easy topic. If that sentence makes you mad, use it. Ask Jesus--Immanuel--God With Us--to cleanse that anger of sin, and then use it for change. For the changing of your heart foremost. 

And if that sentence makes you say, “No, we don’t have a race problem!” then this post is not for you. This post is for brothers and sisters who are willing to speak this fundamental truth—that our country was founded on the sin of oppressing the vulnerable, and that those practices continue today. At every level, from individual to structural, vulnerable people are oppressed, marginalized, and hurt. If you disagree with that statement, then let us disagree graciously with one another and remain friends. 

But if you are starting to see the vulnerable around you, if you are becoming aware of the oppressed, the marginalized, the hurt and the invisible in our society, if you are becoming aware of your majority culture privilege, welcome. God is at work in you. Because he’s seen those folks--those human beings--all along. And now you that you see the brokenness, there’s no way back to blissful ignorance. There’s no way provided in the gospel for ignoring the hard truths and going backwards.

But does it seem impossible to move forward? Does it seem that as soon as you realize that we have a race problem, then you realize you’re part of that problem, and then when you try to solve that problem, you can't? That’s frustrating. That's disheartening. That's exhausting. And it's especially hard when it is the very people you'd like to serve that are telling you "no."

Would you like to know why you’re being told no? 

Yes, you'd like to know? 

Are you sure?

"No" is so often the answer for several reasons. Some of them are good reasons, some of them are bad, and some just are. But there are real reasons behind why your well-meaning efforts may not be helpful, may be met with resistance, and may drive wedges further.

Because the "yes" that God is asking of you now might be the worst kind of (in)action imaginable in our dominant culture: listening and lamenting.

I'll say it again. Listening and lamenting. 

“No,” you say, “You don’t get it. I want to DO something. Take action. Take a stand. Stop injustice in its tracks.” I say, "Wonderful! Good for you, but YOU don’t get it." I mean this literally. You do not get "it," that "it" being the depth and the complexity of the problem. If you aren’t willing to listen and lament, you truly cannot understand the minority experience and what needs to change. 

Yes, there is a time for action. Yes, that time is now. But no, brown folk don’t need a “white savior.” No, women don’t need a man to explain how we can work together to fix the problem. No, oppressed minority groups do not need the majority to lead them to victory as though the only way to win is through majority culture leadership. You, dear friend, you who are so passionately asking, “How do I help?” by your truly humble question, prove that you want to learn. You also prove that you shouldn’t be arguing with people when they answer you. Because you don't know. When you are told to listen and lament, then, do it. Do. It.

I told you the answer might not be something you wanted to hear. And yes, there are actions to be done, stands to be made, and truth to be shared. But until you can understand the helplessness that a minority of any kind feels, day in and day out, you won’t know how to help. Until you can listen and lament, your actions will be unhelpful, your stands will be awkward, and your truth will be biased.

Actually, even after you listen, you’re still going to mess it up sometimes. That’s the message of the gospel—that we’re all broken people who need a savior to restore and reconcile us to himself and one another. But the odds are much better for your actions to succeed if you educate yourself first. The chances will be much better that your stand will make a difference, and that your truth will be heard and taken to heart by others.

Still mad? Good. Still uncomfortable? Excellent. Still frustrated? Fantastic. Now sit with that. Sit in it. Ask God about it. Cry out to him about it, like the Psalmist did. Not just because it’s good for you (though it certainly is), but also because in this work of listening and lamenting, you are joining the work that is already being done by brothers and sisters around the country. You are joining the cries of kidnapped men, women, and children that were in horrific conditions during the Middle Passage and in chattel slavery. You are weeping along with immigrants who have paid life savings and risked drowning, starvation, suffocation, and being shamed, all to leave behind everything familiar. When you scream aloud with women who have been sexually harassed, abused, objectified and debased, you are joining the Holy Spirit and even the entire earth in groaning and pleading for the coming justice of the King. When you are willing to not just stand with others, but actually helplessly lie down in the street with those who are most vulnerable, then you are emulating Jesus and the sacrifices he made to dwell among us. Then you will receive greater understanding.

Because if you don’t understand at all the misery, vulnerability, and plight of human beings that I just described above, if you think it’s really not that bad, that the stories are inaccurate and biased, and if you feel the need to say “yeah, but—” then you are not ready for action. And nobody wants to hear that. I know, I don't want to hear that. I don't want to sit and wait on the Lord. But we all have to do it at one time or another, so why not now? Enter into this Advent season willing to listen and lament. Willing to wait on Jesus to arrive in unexpected and unheralded ways. 

You may need to have some concrete steps to learning how to listen and lament, and I get it. I'm that way, too. So read Prophetic Lament by Soong-Chan Rah. Heck, just read the book of Lamentations in the Bible. Read The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander. Read this brother's blog post (with an open mind) on Ferguson: Why "Hands Up, Don't Shoot" Still Matters. Visit the National African-American Museum at the Smithsonian, or the Civil Rights museums in cities like Memphis, Birmingham, Atlanta. Watch Do The Right Thing, 12 Years a Slave, or A Time to Kill. And if you want to know more about the immigrant experience, the LGBT experience, women's experience, or any of a number of minority experiences, stories aren't hard to find. As my good friend Jemar would say, "Google it. Google. It." People are willing to share, but let them do so on their own terms. 

We are all created in the image of God, and what a painful, wonderful blessing it is to listen to each others' stories, lament with one another, and wait on the Lord. 

Moving into God's presence,

A Fellow Image-Bearer

To Those Lives Who are Bruised (Black and Blue)

NOTE: I've updated this to include Officer Jackson. I hate that. I hate that our world is so broken. Any loss of life, of any kind, any where, is not how it should be. Come, Lord Jesus. We need you desperately.


Dear Black and Blue Lives,

Let me emphasize that I see the significance of the word play there. As a unique segment of the population, black police officers are caught in the middle--in the cross-fire, if you will. You are black and blue, bruised and beaten. You are exhausted, both by your actual police work and with all the social implications surrounding that work.

I want to see you, faithful officers. I want to see, and respect, and honor you and your families. I want to lament with you, and try to understand the difficult space you inhabit as you are all-too-often forced to choose whose side you are on. I want to be on your side--because you are made in the image of God--even when I may disagree with your social media statements or be confused by your actions. I want you to know that I'm grateful. That I want to learn more about the dangers you face and the sacrifices you make.

To the "Salty Dad/Sharp young Black Officer" whose thoughts I read on Facebook, I want to say thank you for your service, and for sharing. I agree that we are in a "sad state of affairs" as humans. Your own experience with the violence in your childhood showcases that. I am so sorry that you had to grow up surrounded by fear. I am so sorry that you have had to see so many young black men die at the hands of other young black men in your work as a police officer. I cannot imagine what it is like to so vividly know the "unforgettable smell of deoxygenated dark red blood in the air" and to feel so helpless and weary. I wish more people on both sides would read your post and hear how "heartbreak weighs [you] down, rage flows through [your] veins, and tears fill [your] eyes." I am not going to argue about the statistics you've presented, because the irony is that the supposedly indisputable facts presented on all sides don't really change anything. The facts I want to take in are that you are tired, and scared, and unappreciated, and vilified by people from all positions. The facts that are, to me, indisputable, are that you risk your life daily and you feel like it's maybe all for nothing. I don't want to let the black-on-black crime narrative or the police brutality narrative drown out your story. It seems we disagree somewhat on what the problem is, and perhaps even moreso on what the solutions should be, but your Black and Blue Life Matters, no matter what anyone says, and no matter what mistakes you do or don't make, and I am grateful for you.

To Officer Liquori Tate, of Hattiesburg, MS, I want to say, thank you for your faithful and short-lived service. I mourn your death. I weep with your family at your loss. You paid the ultimate price, and there is no way to repay or even fully vindicate that, but you are remembered, by black lives and blue lives alike. Your life mattered. And not even because you fought hard to escape stereotypes and societal expectations of young black men. Not even because you were a good officer, described by fellow officers as having an "infectious joy", or because you were an upstanding citizen, or because you were a hero to your family and community. No--your Black and Blue Life Mattered (and still does) because you were made in the image of a holy God, and worthy of dignity and respect. A violent act took away your life, but it couldn't take away your value as a human being. I am grateful for you.

To Officer Montrell Jackson, of Baton Rouge, LA, I want to say, thank you for your willingness to serve, even when you felt like your city maybe didn't love you. Thank you for your ultimate sacrifice, which feels so pointless but must not be. We cannot let your death mean nothing. Your wife and baby boy cannot have lost you for nothing. Your sacrifice (and theirs) must be remembered. Your son will grow up without his father, but I pray, and hope, and cry out to the Lord that he will grow up in a city that loves him, values him, neither fears nor targets him. Your wife is now a single black mother, and I pray, and hope, and cry out to the Lord that she won't be judged or regarded with suspicion and contempt. Just as the legacy of the men and women of Mother Emmanuel who lost their lives ultimately ended up being the SC flag coming down, may your legacy be that change comes, and hearts are broken and healed anew, that a little more shalom comes on earth as it is in heaven. Your sister got the news while she was in church, and "didn't want to break down in church"--but perhaps that is the problem. We in the church don't allow for this pain--to weep, lament, and cry as the Psalmist and others did. We need to break down over your death, Officer Jackson, as well as the other officers, and Baton Rouge's citizens. We need to being willing to give everything--as you did--even if "everything" just looks like our comfort and our desire for easy solutions. Thank you for so bravely and graciously existing in the difficult middle ground. Your Black and Blue Life Mattered (and still does). I am grateful for you.

To Dallas Police Chief David Brown, I want to say thank you for your service and vulnerability. I cannot imagine the grief and shame you went through when your son's mental illness drove him to shoot both a police officer and a civilian. I can only imagine the frustration and despair you are feeling as all the work your department has done to decrease both crime and excessive force complaints was undermined by the heinous crime of a person who lost his value for all life. I may disagree that Black Lives Matter folks leaving the protest lines to join the police is a comprehensive solution, but your point is well-made that you are working hard to remove the need for protests. Your comment that you've "been black a long time, so [the bridge between police and black communities is] not much of a bridge" for you made me both laugh and sigh. What an exhausting place to be in--to be both and neither. To be constantly having to defend yourself as a black man, even as you have to defend yourself as a police officer. As a multi-ethnic woman, I have just a small idea of what that's like, and I'm sorry that you are caught in the middle and expected to always be a bridge-builder. I see you, sir, and I see your bravery, and determination, and heart. I don't want to let--I refuse to let--(necessary) discussions about gun-control and peaceful protests and mental illness completely blind me to seeing you, to saying that your Black and Blue Life Matters. I am grateful for you.

To Officer Nakia Jones, I want to say, thank you for your service and your passion. Thank you for being the Other three times over, a "double-minority," as a a black police woman. I hear your heart's cry, and I weep with you. I weep with you for the things you've experienced, and I rejoice for the barriers you've broken down. I hear your hurts. I love your delight in "wearing the blue" and I applaud your strong words calling for racist white officers to take that uniform off. And though I might say that it's not just white officers who are believing lies about the value of black lives, and thus we can't just remove all the racist white officers and expect everything to be fixed, I heard so much nuance in your speech. What a joy to hear you call both sides to task and ask for change from all communities involved. There are no simple answers, and as a working mom, you get that. I think of your children, and I hear them in the background, and I think of how much you sacrifice and juggle to be able to put on that uniform each day. And I am overwhelmed with your wisdom and strength. Your beautiful Black and Blue Life Matters. It matters to your family, and your community, and people like me that you'll probably never meet. I am grateful for you.

To bruised and battered Black and Blue lives all over the country (and world), I want to say, thank you. May God grant you peace, and safety, and a strong community in which to serve faithfully. May God heal the ways that lies may have crept into your own minds about the value of black lives and even your own lives. May God comfort you and your families in these uniquely heartbreaking times as well as in the daily exhaustion that comes with police work. I repent of the ways I've either forgotten about you or stereotyped you. Please forgive me for how I've bought into the us vs. them, black folks vs. police mentality. Thank you for standing in the gap. Thank you for your willingness to serve, to wrestle with complex issues, for your very lives. Wonderful, precious Black and Blue Lives that Matter because they matter to God.

With respect and gratitude,
A Fellow Citizen

To My Siblings in our Denomination

NOTE: Our denomination is theologically conservative. It is also culturally and politically conservative. It is complementarian, with a wide range of what that means for different people and churches. Part of why I am weary, of why this is so difficult for me, is that I am theologically conservative, but not culturally or politically so. I am a complementarian, valuing the overall leadership of men in the church, but also a "soft" complementarian, not thinking that women should be entirely absent or silent. It's a difficult middle ground.

I wish we could either have a new term, not having to use "soft" complementarian all the time, as though it's some wimpy, pitiful twisting of complementarianism. Or I wish we could reclaim the old term, resting in the beauty of the ways that the male and female genders complement one another, contrasting, highlighting, enhancing one another as we serve and lead together. But that is another post for another time.

Friends outside of the denomination, I apologize that this post may feel irrelevant or even frustrating. Thanks for bearing with me. Thanks for reading, anyway. I value your voices and regret any hurt I cause. But this is part of my journey, and this is important to me. So I can't help but write about it.


Dear Brothers in our Denomination,

Yesterday's sermon at church was beautiful.

I've recently had "remember your identity in Christ" preached at me by two men (with coincidentally the same name), and one could not be more different from the other. One strong, gracious, and Biblical. The other... not so much. I'm trying to hold to that truth I was reminded of yesterday--that my identity comes in Christ, not in how the world labels me (or even how I label myself), but it's hard. In part, because I sin. Because I play "I'm God's gift to the earth/Wait, I'm a worthless worm" mental games in between being reminded of the Gospel. Hooray sanctification.

It's also hard because the truth--that my identity is in Christ--isn't mutually exclusive with the pain of those other labels and the way I identify myself and others. We're in the "here and not yet" church age, and there are still things being worked out, still ways in which God is working out his truth in our hearts. Why is it important that I'm a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural woman serving my family, church, and graduate students? It matters precisely because of that truth--that I was created in the image of God, and he loves and delights in who he has made me to be. My gender, culture, and other identifiers aren't irrelevant because my identity is in Christ, they are celebrated in the wide diversity of the church. God hasn't saved a bunch of bland, indistinguishable people. He's saved a beautiful variety of people, in all colors, shapes, sizes, and personalities. He's saved men and women, and he values their differences.

And now we come to it.

After much initial drama and debate, our denomination has approved a Study Committee on Women in Ministry. This is a good thing. But it's also a polarizing thing. Already our little corner of social media has been ablaze with people who are both excited and distrustful. Already people are questioning the selection of the committee, the threat of it, the necessity of it, the timing of it. These voices are mostly white men. I don't hate white men. I'm really quite smitten with the one I'm married to. I respect and admire the ones who are our associate pastors and those who make up part of our elders. I gratefully sit under the tutelage of several white men in seminary.

The reaction on social media does seem to prove the necessity for the committee, and for it to include women. As one new friend on Facebook said, "If you want to know how certain things appear and feel to women members of the church, you kind of have to ask them." Thank you, sir.

And what I think many people are forgetting in all the hullabaloo is that behind it all are women. Women who have invested their lives in our denomination. Women who are more than stereotypes. Women who have submitted their lives to Christ, and are just trying to follow him faithfully.

But what I see in much of these discussions is the Three Female Ghosts that Haunt the Church. I'm haunted by these ghosts, brothers, and so are you. Please, I ask you--in all humility--see the women around you, hear our stories. Don't let whispers of ghosts and stereotypes be the only voices you hear.

Perhaps you see me as The Usurper--one of the women described in Jen Wilkins' above article as being perceived as "authority thieves." I'm not trying to usurp authority. I'm trying to serve from under proper authority--my elders, my husband, my God. Authority is a God-given, beautiful thing, and we can all thrive under it. I believe this.

Perhaps you're threatened by my exegesis. I've done some of the studies (in the Greek, yes) and I am a complementarian. But Biblical complementarianism does not (and should not!) equal chauvinism. I'm not trying to change your stance on Biblical truths, I'm trying to show you other Biblical views of your cultural norms.

Maybe you worry that I'm The Temptress--you think that "being above reproach [equals seeing women...] as sexual predators." Or you want to treat me like The Child because you think I'm "emotionally or intellectually weaker than men."

I wish you'd see me, and then treat me accordingly, as a sister.

I wish you'd see the women in your church. In your home. In your seminary. See the girls in your nursery, in your school, in your neighborhood. See the widows in your SS class, in your grocery store, in your city.

I wish you'd stop trafficking in stereotypes of angry women, who are demanding all sorts of rights. I wish you'd stop letting these Ghosts chair your committees and preach your sermons and type on your Facebook pages. I wish you'd really see, and listen to, the individual women around you who are indeed angry, but also weeping, and serving, and loving, and leading, and being humbled and renewed by the spirit.

I want to be sensitive to those men who truly feel threatened by what they see as the "scourge of liberalism" sneaking into our denomination. Its true--you are within your rights to be worried, to speak out, to voice concerns. But since when has Christianity been ultimately about our rights? Isn't it about what I learned in my Christology class about κενωσις? About following Christ's example as he laid down his rights, not to ignore the truth, but to pursue it? About seeing who else feels threatened, or marginalized, or hurt, and trying to understand their perspective, to support them, to be willing to listen to their stories?

Brothers, can you take a second to imagine what it feels like to be a token voice in a focus group for our new denominational logo, but be unable to vote on it? I'm not even saying that should or shouldn't change. I'm saying can you imagine the frustration or the feeling of being lesser?

Brothers, can you imagine what it was like to sit--for five hours--and listen to a discussion about your gender, without hearing from a single person of your gender (which is about 50% of the population)? Again, I'm not discussing whether we need change or not. I'm saying, just please try to imagine the feeling of helplessness and invisibility. The feeling that you are required--and always will be--to sit behind the curtain in what is essentially the Court of the Women and the Gentiles. It's alienating to say the least.

Brothers, can you picture a scene where people younger, less-trained, and in no actual authority over you consistently call you dismissive names as though you're a child? Can you picture the pain of being ignored merely because of your gender? Can you picture, and really try to sit with the image for a moment, the grief when other human beings--siblings in the gospel--look at you with suspicion and fear the minute you walk in the door, going where an actual authority figure has asked you to go?

Dear brothers, we are your sisters, which means we need and deserve your kindness in daily life, your protection from those who seek to harm us, your guidance as we serve in our homes and churches, your empowerment as we lead in appropriate ways.

We are also your co-heirs in Christ, which means we do not need your saving of our souls, your justifying of our existence, your condemnation as though only Eve ate the fruit, your platitudes in our grief, or your parenting as though we are your children (unless you're literally our dads--and then, it's still pretty specific in Ephesians how you're supposed to do that graciously). We are sinners saved by grace, just like you.

Some of you get it, or are at least listening. In my To My Brothers in Seminary Post, I didn't name names. I guess the same truths hold here. But you know who you are. Thank you for listening. For using your privilege to advocate for the voiceless. Thank you for being willing to admit mistakes and to fight back the Ghosts. Thank you for being strong, gracious, caring, stereotype-defying brothers.

Gratefully,
A Fellow Sibling


Dear Sisters in our Denomination,

I'm writing to say a few things. First, I lament with you. Even if the pain were not also my own, I would weep with you. And, I recognize that not all of our grief comes from the same places. Intersectionality is also an issue--for those of you who are also of certain ethnicities, socio-economic and educational statuses, etc., it can be hard to sort out why exactly you are being treated as lesser. In addition to other areas, for the areas in which you have felt grief for being shamed and not valued because you are a woman, I am sorry.

But a discussion on Facebook brought something to my attention. Some of you may not be feeling this pain, or may not have recognized it as being tied to your gender. Some of you may be already empowered to be faithful wives, mothers, and nursery workers. This is wonderful. But in commending the committee members to us, one of my professors said that "if we can't trust [the committee] on this issue, then we have far more problems than we know." I agree that they are trustworthy, gracious people. I (obviously) agree with the need for a committee. But I question not their trust but their representation. The committee members are heavily skewed to the majority. The majority of our denomination is of a certain age, stage, and educational/social background. But not all of us women who call it home are of that demographic.

There's a Fourth Ghost that haunts us, sisters: The Rebel. She who others think really would be happiest, if she only would submit to all the cultural (not Biblical) expectations for her. If she'd just stop fussing and accept things, she could focus and be at peace. She haunts us women perhaps most of all. We are not all stay-at-home moms. We are not all dainty, small, and graceful. We are not all called to be pastor's wives, or to host tea parties, or to homeschool. Not all of us are married, or have kids, or like crafting. And our callings and families are as beautiful and valuable as are the majority. But The Rebel doesn't want us valuing each other in our differences. She wants us to shame, blame, and accuse each other--on both sides--until we cannot see past the rift we have created. She wants us to be enemies, not siblings.

Sisters, will our voices be heard? Will those of us who are working outside the home be valued and heard? Will those of us who are single, or older or younger, be considered as the committee looks at what the Bible has to say? Or will those among us who are the Other be further marginalized--not because we actually disagree with the findings, but because no one thought to apply those findings to a broad spectrum of women within our denomination?

I hope they will. I do not doubt this committee will undertake its work with all seriousness and dependence on the Holy Spirit. I just hope that a committee on "Women in Ministry" will not limit itself to women ministering within current (read: culturally acceptable) norms. I pray that we will truly listen to the Bible and not let our denominational cultural norms dictate the findings. I know I'm in one accord with the committee when I say:

I want to hear Jesus speak.

And I know, sisters, that you do, as well.

Gratefully,
A Fellow Sister

Free Shipping Fridays: My Main Self Descriptors

Dear Readers,

While on the one hand, I think descriptors about race, gender, vocation, etc. can be stereotyping and limiting, on the other hand, I appreciate identifying myself with certain characteristics. And I think the problem with telling our stories via descriptors is not when we start there, but when we end there. I want the fact that I'm a multi-ethnic Christian woman in graduate school (etc. etc.) to start conversations, not end them.

So in your virtual mailbox today is a Census Bureau pamphlet, expanded. In this particular mailing, "check all that apply" is standard, and filling in little multiple-choice bubbles is just the beginning. I'd love to hear--do you identify with any of this? What descriptors do you claim? We are more than the sum of our parts--more than just data points--yet, those survey questions matter.


What is your ethnic identity? (check all that apply)
http://reformedmargins.com/but-you-were-raised-white/


What is your religious affiliation? (check all that apply)
http://www.russellmoore.com/2015/10/27/why-i-am-a-christian-2/
http://www.christianitytoday.com/edstetzer/2015/october/exploring-evangelicalism-presbyterian-church-in-america.html


What is your gender identity? (check all that apply)
http://www.thegoodbookblog.com/2016/mar/17/neither-complementarian-nor-egalitarian-an-intervi/
http://www.christianitytoday.com/women/2016/march/gender-conversation-we-arent-having.html


What is your current career/educational status? (check all that apply)
http://blog.emergingscholars.org/2016/04/dear-no-longer-new-graduate-student/
http://thewell.intervarsity.org/in-focus/no-happy-harmony


What is your political affiliation? (check all that apply)
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/ellenpainterdollar/2012/10/why-i-am-a-christian-democrat/


What is your marital status? Do you have children in the home? (check all that apply)
http://www.scarymommy.com/teach-son-about-marriage/
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/parenting/wp/2015/12/30/i-guess-im-raising-a-tomboy/


What is your favorite color? (check all that apply)
http://www.dreamhomedecorating.com/psychological-effects-color-blue.html

Free Shipping Fridays: Weeping, Seminary, and Complementarianism

Dear Readers,

What I have for you today does not fit neatly in a box. Because I do not fit neatly in a box.

So no clever metaphors today, friends.

A friend sent me this article, and I suddenly found myself weeping. Because the author gets it; the author gets me. I do have much support and encouragement from family, friends, church members, students/faculty, etc. as I try to navigate being this... rebellious "soft" complementarian--who is doing campus ministry, trying to faithfully co-parent two little girls, and is pursuing a Master of Divinity in seminary. That support system gets me through the tough days. Those folks' opinions are what I truly value and listen to.

But to have a blogger the caliber of Tim Challies recommend this article--
which was written by a board member of Training Leaders International...
an organization in partnership with decidedly complementarian Bethlehem Baptist Church...

... it means a lot. Like maybe-soon-I'll-stop-scowling-at-the-Piper-books-shoved-to-the-back-of-the-shelf-since-The-Debacle a lot. Like fresh healing kind of a lot.

This will probably piss off hard-core complementarians and Those Guys I go to seminary with. Meh.
This may grieve egalitarians and most of the people I work with. That does make me sad.

But I've started to realize that I might as well speak up, because my very existence is bound to piss off and grieve those folks. So I might as well try to enter into conversation about it, and hopefully find some common ground.

Thank you to Darren Carlson for writing it. Thank you to Tim Challies for recommending it. Thank you to dear friend Anna Eubanks for sending me the link.

And thank you to everyone who reads it, and maybe understands me just a little better.

http://trainingleadersinternational.org/jgc/57/encouraging-women-to-do-biblical-studies-at-the-graduate-level

To the Woman I Love (a once-in-a-blue-moon post from Kennan)

Dear friend, wife, mother, M. Div. student, homemaker, professional campus minister, sister-in-Christ, and partner . . . or to put it more succinctly . . .

Dear Chandra,

I know that I don't often make appearances on social media. That is more your cup of tea. But today, I want to chime in to speak up on your behalf. Not because you need my wisdom - you have much wisdom of your own. Not because you need my protection - you are no wilting violet. Not because you need my blessing - you already have that. Because I want to encourage you and to do it publicly. 

I am proud to be your husband. It is no small task to be entrusted with the heart of a woman like you. I do not claim to lead perfectly (or even well at times), but God is gracious and is using you mightily in many different ways. I daily seek to be worthy of the headship that has been entrusted to me. 

You inhabit all of the roles listed above (and many more) with a grace that is clearly Spirit-given. You see the "have-nots" of the world and use your privilege to enter their suffering with Christ's love. You are not content with party lines and seek to make scripture your one constant. You love me in spite of my sinful brokenness and have never wavered in the commitment that you made to God to be my helpmate. Since before their births, our daughters have experienced the love of God firsthand through your actions.

You have spent the last decade ministering to graduate students through qualifying exams, dissertation defenses, bar preparation, marriage, divorce, death of a spouse, birth of a child, and crises of faith, vocation, and health. All of that care was extended to others even as you mourned the loss of our church, your job, our first child, your father, our city, and innumerable other "little" things that felt like death by a thousand paper cuts. Through it all, you have pointed others and yourself to the one true source of hope - the cross.

You have spent years (and will spend more) toiling toward a degree that will not gain you a pay raise, a better job, or prestige. You have invested yourself because you want to know God more and to minister to His world more effectively. Your treasure is truly in heaven.

You are an amazing person. I would be blessed just to know you and am infinitely more so to be your husband. Thank you for your love, your service, your sacrifice, and your humor. You are one of a kind. I am always-

Yours in Christ,

Kennan 

To My Daughters

Dear Sweet Girls,

There's so much I want (and need) to tell you about life. There are so many lessons, so many ways I want you to know Jesus and grow up happy, healthy and stable. I won't get into a discussion on helicopter parenting right now, and I'll narrow my focus to one thing that the three of us share in common: being girls. That is, females, women, ladies, etc. Your chromosomes, your inner female parts--as well as the outward signs of them--are significant parts of who you are as people. And they will continue to be so. Your femaleness will affect you for your entire lives because it is the context from which you will encounter the world. The physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual ramifications of your two X chromosomes are so many. Your womanhood will matter, and it will shape the way you relate to the world in general and to your loved ones in particular.

Physically, you are more vulnerable than men. I hate to even type these words, and it makes me see red (which quickly fades to black) to think that according to statistics, you have around a 20% chance of being sexually assaulted (and apparently it's higher because you are multi-ethnic) in your lifetime. At best, you will be ogled, fantasized about, and demeaned by some of the men around you. At worst, your bodies will be physically violated in a way that makes me feel rage and helplessness and nausea all swirled together. I wish I could protect you from the world. But I can't. I can (hopefully) help you discover a sense of self and joy in your physical selves.  To help you appreciate your bodies, to care for them, and to learn about how your physicalness and femininity are imaging God in all his glory and creativity.  My wish for you is that you will find your own way in understanding the line between modesty and prudishness, between fear and the wielding of your bodies as a weapon. And added to the journey is this complexity of being "multi-ethnic," of having a difference to your appearance that can be alternately intriguing and alienating.

Emotionally, things get a little more complicated. Depending on who you talk to, being a woman has either no ramifications on your emotional state, all the way along the spectrum to having disastrous consequences for your feelings. I stand (as I do in most things) somewhere in the middle in this. I do feel (ha!) that women tend to think and feel differently, and that this is a beautiful and valuable thing. Some will tell you this is merely a matter of biology and chemistry. Some will claim that the idea of women's emotions is a mere societal construct. I can see the points made in both camps. It seems to me that rather than the challenge of having uniquely female emotions, the issue is really the challenge of having human emotions. Yes, PMS is a thing. A not-much-fun thing. And you have both seen how pre-pregnancy, pregnancy, and post-pregnancy hormones can be powerful, frightening, and consuming. But the reality is that both men and women have emotions, and those emotions can either be used to hurt or to heal, to encourage mercy or to promote selfishness. I hope you both will figure out, early on in life, where God calls you as individuals to serve and love and rejoice and grieve with others. I hope your emotions won't control you, but that you also won't try to wholly control them. I hope that your brain chemistry will be balanced. I pray that your community will encourage openness and honesty. And I trust that you'll remember (as more than just a youth group party trick) the shortest of the Bible verses: "Jesus wept."

Yes, Jesus wept, and he was sometimes angry, and sometimes happy, sometimes sad, and sometimes content, and sometimes fearful, and a multitude of other human emotions. Dear daughters, rebuke the lies of Satan that will tell you that the emotional aspects of you are merely manipulative and untrustworthy. Instead, see the ways that you can thoughtfully and carefully cultivate relationships for good. Rejoice in the gift you've been given for loving others, and trust your instincts as they are guided by the Holy Spirit. Some people--women even--are just naturally less openly emotional than others. That's okay, too. Lean into your personality and your God-given emotions, offer them up as gifts to the Lord, and rejoice in all the ways he will use them for your good and his glory.

Mentally, there are both truths and stereotypes that you will encounter. I long for a day when different learning styles are equally valued, when "street smarts" count for as much value as "book learnin'" in the dominant culture, and when IQ is truly a spectrum upon which all of humanity falls (and not a hierarchy of value assessed). I know that something like that will exist someday, in the new heavens and the new earth. I know that someday brothers and sisters who have IQs which are several standard deviations below normal (i.e. "mentally handicapped") will be perhaps, far beyond even being seen as equals, actually be the most honored among us. Until then, intelligence is defined in Western culture by mostly white males.

This intelligence--scholarship, academic leaning, leadership potential (call it what you will)--is something I simultaneously long for and hate. I'd like to think that I used to be able to hang with the scholars, and that the reason I'm not getting all As in graduate school is less a product of my innate ability and more a perfect storm of exhaustion, over-commitments, and relational entanglements (i.e. ministry and family). The sad thing is that I acknowledge that what intelligence I have is innate, meaning: God-given. I have done nothing to earn it, nor can I claim any credit for it. Yet I revel in it, and use it to place myself above others, both men and women. And the heartbreaking truth is that when I feel less than smart, I try to say that my "EQ" (Emotional Intelligence) or "CQ" (Cultural Intelligence), or any other number of "xQ"s, more than makes up for what I may be lacking in IQ. The point that I so often miss is that it's not about competition or ranking to begin with.

Dear daughters of mine, it's already clear that you are both quite smart, and in more ways than one. You are both bright, cheerful, people-persons who think and feel deeply. My prayer for you is that you will rejoice in the intelligence you've been given and not let it rule you. My hope is that you will defy stereotypes--and that if you perhaps become engineers, lawyers, or doctors it will be because that is your calling, and not merely to prove something to someone. My wish for you is that you will find jobs that fully utilize your gifts, calling, and intelligence, but that you won't become arrogant or prideful. I pray that you will never see yourself as above things like cooking, cleaning, or other domestic/service jobs, even if you are oh-so-important career women who hire those jobs out. Let the praise of your intelligence wash over you, boast in Christ alone for it, and cling to what really matters--praising God for your ability to think at all.

Annabel, you once told us that you wanted to be a garbage truck driver when you got older. I love that phase of toddlerhood. I hope you'll always remember what we told you: that it's a valuable, much needed, important job. If that is where God wants you, may you thrive in it. But we had to also tell you the truth that it is very hard work, pays poorly, and engenders little of the respect due to it. I have to be honest that I want more for you. But I don't want you to simply have an easy life as an academic or other white-collar worker. I want you to use your brain to fight for others, to extend your privilege and opportunities where there are none, to stand up and say, very eloquently, "Garbage truck drivers deserve our respect and kindness because in addition to their hard work, they are made in the image of God."

Spiritually, this aspect of being a woman may be the most complicated one of all.  Annabel, you also said once, "Mama, I want to do what you do when I grow up.  What is it you do again?"  Ah, yes.  What is it I do.  Why have I chosen to pursue my MDiv at a very conservative seminary?  Why do I work for a more progressive campus ministry?  Why does our family worship at a multiethnic church in Jackson, MS?  What does it mean, and what does it do to my physical, emotional, and mental state to not really fit in spiritually no matter where I go?  Is this discomfort, this otherness, this loneliness what I am hoping you can avoid?  Or am I hoping you will be able to survive in such a sense of disjointedness?  Dare I even hope and pray that you might thrive in it in a way that most days, I don't really see myself doing?

Far beyond the complementarian/egalitarian debate, quite past the practical questions of what roles women should and can have, is the question of why do women matter to God, and how do we know that? It broke my heart to hear a friend say that her little daughter asked why there weren't any women in the Bible. Have mercy, O Lord. Such women as there are in the Bible! Lost women, found women, sinners and saints, leaders, followers, mourners, and joyful evangelists. Women who worshiped, who were the first to know of the impending arrival of the Christ, as well as the first to know of his resurrection. Without getting into a deep exegesis of the scriptures, suffice it to say (for now) that the ways in which the covenant God YHWH treated women (along with children and other minorities/outcasts) is telling of his care for his children. He loves you, dearest girls. Because when you trust in Christ, you are both his daughters, but also his sons who inherit, co-heirs with Jesus, even. That is a beautiful thing, and a holy mystery.

I don't really have answers for you in all this. I very rarely do, if I'm honest with myself (and with the two of you). I can train you in the catechism, read the Bible and pray with you before bed every night, and let you see me trying to work all this theory out into practice as your dad and I walk this road together. I can try to see the people that you really are becoming, and not traffic in stereotypes or broker in prejudices, but try to frame reality as I see it, and trust that God is big enough to hold you. My biggest fear certainly isn't that you become a woman preacher or a missionary in some hostile country or even that you come to me one day as a teenager and tell me that you're pregnant, or gay, or any of the other things that complicate an otherwise simple existence. (Please hear my sense of irony, there.) My worst nightmare is that you won't have anyone you can really to talk to, that you'll spend your years alone, locked in your own thoughts, drowning in questions and doubts, and thinking that you're all alone in having them.

I can tell you that especially when it comes to seminary, I certainly wasn't planning on being this ground-breaking radical, racking up firsts and pushing boundaries and making people (at best) very uncomfortable and (at worst) pretty angry. I just wanted to learn how to care for graduate students and faculty better. Seminary (like most things) seemed like a good idea at the time.

I can tell you that there are times when it is very very lonely both there and in my work. There are times when the only thing I'm more aware of than the discomfort and pain I cause others is my own discomfort and pain. Times when I wonder if it's worth it to try to co-exist in two very different spheres.

I can tell you that your dad and I don't have it all figured out, that many of our arguments or intense conversations are all about what it means to see each other as equally valuable, but intrinsically different. I can tell you that it would be so much easier to just pick a side and stick with it. I can tell you that especially right now, I'm weary from asking these questions and hearing no answers.

This dissonance is not something I want for you. And yet, I don't know if trying to spare you from it is such a good idea, either.

So what am I hoping for each of you? There is definitely a part of me that wants you to have a comfortable, stable life. To have a husband that loves and respects and nurtures and sacrifices for you as your dad does for me. To have a job--either out in the world or secure in your work at home--that is gratifying to you. Daily work that challenges and strengthens and grows you in patience. A job that you can mirror God in, being creative and bringing order from chaos and finding a little bit of eternity in the day-to-day tasks of life. I want you to have family. Whether that looks traditional and picket fence-y is not the point. I just want you to have people that really know you, and get you, and walk with you and make you more of who you really are, of who God has made you to be. That might be a husband. It might be children. I hope it will, at least in part, be each other, sweet sisters. Your family may be your church family, or your neighbors, or coworkers. People who love you unconditionally and yet don't just leave you to stagnate. People who God uses to show you a physical manifestation of his transformative love for you.

But I recognize that whether or not you have those things, there will still be lonely times. Times where you don't fit in, where miscommunication swallows up friendship until it seems like there is no way out. Whether you are down the street or across the world, I am trying to sit with the knowledge that comfort and stability are good places from which to grow, but that the real growth happens in the griefs and disappointments and violations that the world throws at us. Those are the times when we learn the most about God and his mercy for us.

So what does it mean to be women? I think it means vulnerability mixed with strength. I think it means the ability to both laugh and cry. I think it means asking questions, and learning to trust what few answers we get in life. I think it means loving others, not just because you're women, and that's what women are supposed to do. It means loving others because you're human, and that's what Christ has freed us to do. I think it does mean loving others in your own unique ways, because you're women, and part Asian, and being raised in the South, and all the other special things that make up the beautiful, hilarious, precious, precocious, and wonderful women that you're growing up to be. I love God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, and so I'm able to love you.

With Much, Much Love,
Mama