Emerging Women

I wanted to spread the word about Jim Henderson’s (Off the Map) new project -

From Jim -
I’m doing research for my next project- The Resignation of Eve. I want to interview Christian or formerly Christian women who are experiencing or have gone through one or more of the Three Stages of Resignation. I will be doing these interviews in May. Most will be via Skype but some might be in person (depending on where I am in the world). Get more details in the blog and post a short explainer in the comments (at this site) (100 words or less) as to why you or your friend might be a good person for me to interview.

1. Resigned To
Using the word “resigned” in the passive sense we will highlight the most widespread abuse of women in the church – blocking, stonewalling and stalling women’s interest in gaining more influence in the church. We will tell the stories of women who find themselves “stuck” in a Catch 22. They love their church and the people but they also know they aren’t being given the opportunity to bring their best. Some are very frustrated others have simply come to terms with it.

2. Resigned From
This section profiles women who have walked away from Christianity, Church and in some cases God. These are women who at one time were very dedicated Christians, church goers and bible study leaders who have opted out for other beliefs or no beliefs. In spite of their rejection of the religion that confused and complicated their lives many of these women often lead fulfilling and productive and even deeply spiritual lives.

3. Re-Signed Up
Life is about making trades. Two people can appear to be doing the same thing but for two very different reasons. This section features the stories of women who have found a way to “orbit the giant hairball” called Christianity. They’ve learned the art of “defining themselves and staying connected”. They’re engaged but not owned, integrated within the church but knowledgeable about its inherent limitations and dangers. They’ve discovered ways to contribute to something they often disagree with. What makes these women different is that they don’t deny or just accept the situation they know it exists, talk about it and are seeking to change it from within.

A number of bloggers are participating today in a Synchroblog on “What is emerging?” While there is room (and need for) discussions regarding what needs to change and heal in the emerging conversation, it can also be helpful to here about where people see hope. This synchroblog was a way for a diversity of voices to tell of where they find hope in what is emerging in the church. From personal experiences to theological reflection, these posts (while not always in agreement) serve simply as witnesses to what is developing in the church today. I encourage you to read these posts, join in on the discussion, and acknowledge the differing voices that make up this conversation. If you want to contribute a post to the Synchroblog leave a link here to add yours to the list.

Happy reading!

Pam Hogeweide compares the emerging church movement to a game of ping pong.
Sarah-Ji comments that the emerging questions people are asking are far bigger than any defined movement.
Sharon Brown writes about using labels as an excuse.
Peter Walker reflects on how the emerging church conversation helped him recognize his power and privlege as a white male.
Dave Huth post a on new ways to talk about religion.
Kathy Escobar finds hope in seeing a spirit of love in action emerging in the church.
Nadia Bolz-Weber reflects on the the beautiful things she sees emerging in her church community.
Chad Holtz writes on our Our Emerging Jewishness.
Julie Kennedy describes her organic entry into the emerging church and reflects on moving forward with a new public face.
Dave Brown comments on the emerging church and swarm theory.
Danielle Shroyer reflects on what she sees emerging in the church.
Brian Merritt offers his pros and cons of the emerging church.
Julie Clawson is grateful for emerging globalized Christianity.
Susan Philips points out that emergence happens as G-d redeems our shattered realities.
Mike Clawson reflects on the non-western voices that brought him to the emerging conversation.
Jake Bouma suggest that what is emerging is a collapse into simplicity.
Liz Dyer believes a chastened epistemology is a valuable characteristic emerging out of the church today.
Rachel Held Evans writes on what is changing in the church.
Tia Lynn Lecorchick describes the emerging movement as a wood between worlds (from The Magician’s Nephew).
Amy Moffitt shares her journey towards a theology of humility.
Travis Mamone comments on the need for the emerging church to rely on the word of God.
Sa Say reflects on the the prick of doubt.
David Henson lists what he sees as what is emerging in the church.
Angela Harms writes in in defense of emergent.
Wendy Gritter asks how we can listening to the voices from the margins.
Bruce Epperly comments on the largeness of spirit of emerging spirituality.
Linda Jamentz reflects on listening to the voices from the margins in church.
Lisa Bain Carlton hopes that our emerging conversation can respond humbly to our moment in time.
Christine Sine asks how far are we willing to be transformed.
Lori Allen Wilson reflects on what is emerging in the younger generations.
Cynthia Norris Clack sees love emerging in the church.
Bob Fisher lists the values emerging in his faith community
Mihee Kim-Kort writes of the conversions and conversations she sees around her.
Ann Catherine Pittman believes that what is emerging in the church is inclusivity.
Matthew Gallion describes how emergence is spread thin across the whole church.
Phil Snider offers guarded praise of emergent.

By Cindy Wallace

Last night I cooked. As day deepened into darkness, I stood wrapped in an apron my mother made, grinding almonds, rolling out dough, chopping potatoes and onions, washing lettuce, slicing strawberries, blending whipped cream and cream cheese and sugar. I cooked until I was cranky, and then I kept cooking (Josh learned to keep his distance). I was preparing for the feast, but this preparation struck me as strange: how does one live into the joy of Easter in the mid-time mourning space of Holy Saturday?

In the church calendar, Good Friday may be the darkest day, but the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday is for me a day of profound mystery. It bespeaks the waiting I often feel within myself, the tentative question: what next? I am preparing, I am mourning, I am hoping. For Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, the other women who found his tomb empty early Sunday morning, Saturday would have been a Sabbath day. Would they have lit candles or lamps? What wailing would their mourning have entailed? They certainly weren’t preparing to celebrate; they weren’t peeling vegetables and drizzling honey. They weren’t wrapping their hair on strips of cloth to make spring Sunday curls.

But my experience of Easter happens now, with Bibles tucked on my numerous bookshelves telling me very little about Saturday but that by Sunday morning those women knew, as perplexed and afraid and astonished as they may have been, that there is such a thing as life out of death. That there was such a thing as a temple rebuilt in three days, One come to suffer with, to give his life a ransom for many, to vanquish death and evil in the most flip-flopped, unexpected way. Like a bulb planted in the earth–you look at it, and you think, how could this shrivelled brown ball ever make something beautiful? (How could this submissive, shameful death ever make something beautiful?) And then: life!

Life!

So I prepared my feast. I assembled friends to share the feast–as one of them called it, a “resurrection family.” I followed the recipes my mom and aunts taught me by many years of example. And after a night of deep sleep, I awoke to Life. (Let’s also be less romanticized and more honest: this morning I drank copious quantities of coffee and ate pastry and haphazardly hacked a nine-pound ham with a meat cleaver so that at least part of it would fit into a slow cooker.) Leaving the ham, Josh and I strolled two blocks to gather with the most beautiful collection of Christians I’ve ever witnessed. And we celebrated. After the darkness of Friday and Saturday, all I could see this morning was Light. All I could hear was Joy. All I could feel was Hope.

And then we ate. We ate in the sort of way where laughter ripples along the table, where forkfuls of avocado-lime pie pause in midair as people discover surprise connections, shared hopes. I took photos of us all and sent them to the family back home, where a similar feast had taken place, with a similar menu, also made ready by hands on that mysterious Saturday of waiting and preparation.

Tomorrow morning I will awaken to a day like most days, which at least for me are much more like Holy Saturday–the bridge between pain and beauty, death and life, looking back and looking ahead–than either Good Friday or Easter Sunday. I have hope and I have questions. I have sorrow and I have joy. I live in neither fast nor feast, but moderation, small happinesses. But my red-stained fingers, dyed brighter than the eggs I will now make into egg-salad, will remind me: we have fasted, and we have feasted. We have layered our laughter and tasted of life’s delight in special food and special friends. We live not just in the shadow of death but in the light of a Risen Son.

Cindy Wallace is a graduate student, a recovering fundamentalist, and a church-planting plotter with her red-goateed seminarian husband. This post originally appeared at her blog http://lafleurepuisee.blogspot.com/.