Emerging Women

By Jessica Coblentz

I kept thinking about the incarnation as I lay on the cement floor in St. Mark’s Cathedral this evening during Compline prayer. I was between Stephanie and Jen, two of my best friends since childhood. Throughout our friendships they have been constant pillars in my spiritual life. Each of us comes from her own unique Christian upbringing, and even as we all spent our undergraduate years with the Jesuits, we still hold many differences in faith. Yet they have always been embodiments of Christ to me. Real Love in Flesh and Blood. Truth speakers in some of the most trying of circumstances.

According to Roman Catholic doctrine, one of the major reasons women cannot be ordained priests is the fact that Christ became human in the form of a man. The priest, who represents Jesus in the consecration of the Eucharist, must therefore be male in order to adequately reflect Christ’s embodiment. I’ve acquired plenty of strong theological arguments to dismiss the institution’s logic on this matter, but tonight I didn’t need any intellectual assertions to support by belief that Christ’s embodiment was not merely male. No. There next to me, on my right and on my left, Jesus lay in Flesh and Blood. Skin and Bones. Jen and Steph.

The Incarnation I witness every day is often female, just as it is often male. And it is always a Mystery.

Jessica Coblentz is a graduate student at Harvard Divinity School. Follow her writing on the Web at www.jessicacoblentz.com.

By Tisha Brown

One of my favorite scripture passages is the story of Jesus’ baptism in Mark 1:9-11. I particularly love the words that come from the voice in heaven as Jesus emerges from the Jordan “You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” When I read this scripture I imagine God’s voice speaking these words to me at the moment of my baptism; “You are my daughter, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Recently, these words have begun to take on new meaning for me as I realize that not only do I claim them for myself as a disciple of Jesus Christ who needs to be reminded from time to time of her beloved-ness but I claim them also as a pastor. I claim them for all of the people in the congregation I serve and most especially for every infant, child or adult I have the privilege of baptizing.

The new meaning of these words has come about through conversations I’ve been having with two teenage boys in my congregation who are considering baptism. I have become aware through these conversations that not only am I their pastor because I work at their church but I am their pastor because they accept me and see me in that role. They have granted me authority in their lives. They listen to what I say, they watch what I do, and they respect me because I’ve been there for them in their lives for the past 6 years for better and for worse.

Claiming the authority and the power that comes with the title of pastor has been a struggle for me since my ordination. I believe that all people, by virtue of their baptism, are called by God to serve and follow Jesus Christ and that no one person’s calling is necessarily more important or authoritative. I have also been intimidated by the level of responsibility that comes along with the role that a pastor plays in the lives of congregations and in the lives of the people who make up those congregations. Clergy are responsible to carry their power and authority ethically, humbly and with integrity in every aspect of their lives. I take this responsibility very seriously and it scares me.

But what I have come to realize through talking with two teenage boys in my congregation is that the power and authority of my role as pastor of this congregation isn’t mine alone. It is a gift from God and a call that I have humbly heard and accepted. In this call I am never alone for the Holy Spirit is always there reminding me of who I am and whose I am.

In addition, this community has grown to trust me and to see me as their pastor and they call this power and this authority out in me. I am their pastor not only because they pay me to fulfill that role but because we have been together through the many ups and downs of life. We have grieved the deaths of significant people in the community, walked together through divorces, job losses and the death of a teenage boy and we have struggled to forgive and move on. We have sung and prayed and worshiped, shared secrets and longings, confessed shortcomings and accepted grace, baptized babies and adults, celebrated weddings and laughed a lot. We have become intimately connected to one another in Christ. Together through the gift of trust that has developed between us, by the grace of God and with much fear and trembling we have accepted this relationship of pastor and congregation. They affirm the power and authority of the role, I willingly agree to be their pastor and God blesses and keeps us all.

I am so grateful to these two young men for teaching me these things. They couldn’t possibly know that their awkwardly mumbled responses to my questions, their non-committal head nods and the way they seem so interested in whatever is on the tops of their shoes was revealing something that I needed to see. I am a beloved child of God in whom God is well pleased and I am their Pastor. And God willing, I will stand on holy and sacred ground in the midst of the community and say to them “I baptize you in the name of God who created you, Christ who redeemed you and the Holy Spirit who sustains you. May the Holy Spirit be upon you, child of God, disciple of Christ, member of the church.

Rev. Tisha Brown is the pastor of Community of Hope, UCC in Madison, WI. Community of Hope and Advent Lutheran, ELCA form the Madison Christian Community, a unique, 40-year partnership of two congregations sharing a building and engaging in mutual ministry. Tisha is new to the world of the emerging church and is happy to say it is saving her faith. In her free time she loves to run, dance and sing. She blogs at Thoughts and Reflections

By Mihee Kim-Kort

Moments of irony hit me hard…I think it’s because I subconsciously hold up my worldview like a blanket wrapped around me, these expectations and preconceived notions woven together tightly in my brain, so when something outside of my usual assumptions happens to me, it knocks me out cold and stays with me for awhile.

I grew up in a traditional Presbyterian home…culturally Korean on the inside, culturally attempting-to-be-American [whatever that means] on the outside. But, no doubt there was an undeniable hierarchy in the house, as well as at our church home. My father was the bread-winner, and my mother the homemaker, while at the church, only men were the elders, the leaders of the church, and certainly the pastor and any visiting preacher during the yearly weekend revivals. The women were always deacons, literally servants of compassion and hospitality for the church, which essentially meant they rotated bringing food, washing dishes, and cleaning the kitchen every Sunday after the fellowship lunch, and heading up the church bazaar fundraisers. This was my world, and I never gave it any thought until my dad attended seminary while I was beginning my undergraduate studies.

At the same time, as I reflect back, I remember it wasn’t so black-and-white, and there were little moments of contradiction that I brushed off, but kept on the back burner. My mother, solely responsible for taking care of the home, also managed a few stores, that is, businesses that they attempted to start up in various parts of the city during various parts of my childhood. Over and over again they would tell me their dreams for me were to enter into some kind of successful, public profession [medicine, law, education], but very little mention of marriage, family, and a home life. I went to a church service once where a woman preached that Sunday morning, and I was simultaneously repelled and enthralled by it. Perhaps these moments caused the little rips and tears that would make the entire cover almost completely unravel at the seams that one fateful day.

When I started my undergraduate studies, I had planned on going pre-med [I know, so stereotypical of Asian Americans, though actually a number of my Asian American friends are in medicine]. But I fell in love with the humanities courses I was taking particularly in the religion, English, history and philosophy departments. I was also involved in various ministries to high school and college students, and felt a tug towards church and ministry. But I would never have considered it in a million years until that one conversation with my father in the middle of my freshmen year. He was attending Princeton Seminary at the time and enjoying the classes and community with numerous women who were studying to also become…pastors. “Pastors??? But the Bible says that women are supposed to submit to men…and church leaders are just supposed to be only men; I can’t imagine a woman being able to do it!!!” I argued with him over the phone and we went back and forth.

And there’s the irony.

My father, the symbol of Asian patriarchy, was trying to persuade me, a woman, but a young girl at the time, that women could and should do much more in the church. My father argued for an egalitarian view on the role of men and women in the church, especially in the Korean church. He told me stories of how women had been leaders of the church for a long time, and many were elders in the Presbyterian church, and also becoming pastors all around him…and he admired and respected them, in fact, supported them. He reminded me that the first people to preach the gospel after Jesus’ resurrection were women! He was taking a class on feminist/womanist theologies…the same class that would impact me deeply some years later during my own seminary coursework.

“And, you can be a leader, too, an elder, a pastor, anything you believe God is calling you to be in your own life…” he said to me.

I know it seems a little cliche, a little after-school special, like too “you can be anything you want to be.” But for me, these words were truly radical. They turned everything upside down, in a frightening, but truly redemptive way…one of the first few tastes of grace for me. I can’t help but remember the words to a Christian song, though honestly I rarely listen to this genre of music: Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces calling out the best of who we are…I look back and see that was certainly the case here. And while I was left with bits and pieces of yarn, string, remnants of that shroud I had hung onto for so long, I realized that these pieces were an invitation to create and make something new because I was given the ability, power, and freedom to do and be something more… This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful…This is grace, an invitation…So here I am on the other side thankful for that one moment, and all the small inspirations in this journey that have helped me become more of me, a more faithful me, encouraging me to respond to God’s call courageously, and most of all, to share it…And I want to add to the beauty…to tell a better story…

[Lyrics from Sara Groves Add to the Beauty]

Mihee is an associate pastor at a Presbyterian church for youth and children in Pennsylvania. This post originally appeared at Mihee’s blog First Day Walking

Recently over at The Common Loon the question was asked whether there is a Calvinist-Complementarian connection. With the rise of the “New Calvinists” often referred to as the “young, restless, and reformed,” the gender roles issue has taken on a new life. The blog author writes -

As an outside observer of the movement, I’ve noticed that in addition to Reformed soteriology (often summarized by the acronym TULIP), one of the key doctrinal distinctives for New Calvinists is complementarianism, the view that male leadership in the church and home is a Biblical imperative. It’s no coincidence that influential Reformed/Calvinist (I’m using these terms interchangeably here) leaders like John Piper, Al Mohler and Mark Driscoll are among evangelicalism’s most vocal opponents of women’s ordination. As a staunch egalitarian, I believe Scripture teaches that God gives the gifts of preaching, teaching and church leadership to both men and women, which puts me squarely at odds with the young, restless, Reformed camp…

Despite our disagreements on gender roles, I share a lot in common with my New Calvinist brothers and sisters. I am very much drawn to the Reformed tradition, its covenant theology, historic confessions and doctrines of grace (TULIP included)…

If I were capable of passing through the narrow doctrinal checkpoint affirming both TULIP and complementarian gender roles, I would find a community of New Calvinists refreshingly open to a range of positions on baptism, miraculous gifts, the Lord’s Supper and eschatology….

In light of such ecumenism, it’s perplexing to consider why egalitarians are not also welcomed to the New Calvinist table. Complementarianism may not be at the forefront of New Calvinist identity, but it nonetheless serves as a distinct theological boundary not to be crossed. From what I gather, egalitarianism is categorically rejected by the full spectrum of interdenominational networks, ministries and conferences home to New Calvinists (including Tim Keller and Don Carson’s Gospel Coalition, Piper’s Desiring God Ministries, Driscoll’s Acts 29 Network, Mahaney’s Sovereign Grace Ministries, Dever’s 9 Marks, R.C. Sproul’s Ligonier Ministries, Duncan’s Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals and MacArthur’s Shepherd’s Conference among others). I hope I’m mistaken, but the young, restless, Reformed subculture seems to have built an impenetrable wall to keep out those who are not both Calvinists and complementarians. One out of two is not enough, and thus I have failed to qualify.

His post is insightful in wondering why this is such an issue and wonders if there are egalitarian Calvinists. One of the leaders of the New Calvinists, Kevin DeYoung (co-author of Why We’re Not Emergent) responded to the post on his own blog. In it he graciously admitted that some egalitarians come to that position from the Bible, but that he thinks it is best if Calvinists don’t associate with them. His reasons include -

1. Those that accept egalitarianism, over time accept sexual immorality.
2. If we are confused about manhood and womanhood then we can’t minister to our culture.
3. Egalitarians don’t always affirm core doctrines like inerrancy, penal substitution, and eternal punishment while complementarians do.
4. If we want to work with other people/denominations Calvinists need to be clear on who is allowed to be in leadership or speak at those events. Its just easier to assert that women aren’t allowed.

I know here at Emerging Women we have complementarians as well as egalitarians, and I am sure at least a few Calvinists. So how do you respond to these assertions? Can a Calvinist be an egalitarian, or at least associate with them? Is it better to take a stand and not work with those who are different from you? Should we as Christians seek unity first, and denominational doctrine second (or the other way around)?

I admit that as an egalitarian, it is easier sometimes to simply not have to deal with the complementarians. I don’t want to be a part of a church that denies the call of God in my life or that tells me that I am lesser than men. It’s a position I struggled to come to through long biblical study, and I can’t place myself back into a world that actively oppresses me. That said, I have issues with saying that I would never work with a complementarian (no matter how much I disagree with his theology). I am for building the body of Christ and loving others even if I disagree with them or see them committing injustices. It’s hard, but I feel like that is the response I have to have.

So what are your thoughts? How as Christians should we interact?

Peggy Brown has an interesting article in this month’s Next-Wave Ezine called “Where ARE the Women?” She writes -

The problem is not that the women aren’t out there using their gifts to build up the church. The reality is that they, in fact, are. The problem is one of perception. Perceptions about what women can do versus what they may do in ministry. And it is a problem that the sisters share with many other segments of society.

Head over there for the full article. There are a few comments there, but I’ve haven’t been able to post a comment there yet for some reason. I hope though her thoughts lead to some good conversation.

By Liz Dyer

For most of my life I pretty much believed what someone else told me the bible said. That isn’t to say that I didn’t read the bible or study the bible – but I interpreted within the guidelines of what someone else told me it said (a pastor, a commentary, a particular author etc.). Over time I began to realize that I could not accept some of the popular interpretations and I began to dig deeper. One of the topics that I began to look into was the issue of a woman’s role in the church. I was surprised to find out that this was an issue that not only divided Christians and non-Christians, mainliners and evangelicals, liberals and conservatives but also conservative evangelical Christians themselves. I was also surprised that there were some very big words that were being used to describe the two main sides of the issue … egalitarian and complementarian.

Egalitarianism = Belief that there are no biblically mandated timeless distinctions between men and women in the church. They stress an equality of men and women, not merely for salvation or in essential personhood, but in opportunities to hold every office and play every role that exists in church life.

Complementarianism = Belief that there are certain timeless restrictions on women’s roles in the church. They stress that persons in positions of authority can function in loving, supportive ways that do not lead to the abuse of those in subordinate positions. Certain roles are altogether prohibited for women.

As I started to dig into this issue one of the first things I noticed is that it is difficult to find anyone that totally agrees on where the lines are to be drawn. Is it only that women cannot be ordained? Or is it that they cannot preach at all? Or teach? Or speak? Serve as deacons? Teach in seminaries? What exactly is it that they can and cannot do? Who decides and on what basis?

Then there are all the irrationalities and contradictions to process. Why is it okay to teach children and other women, but not men? Why would it be okay to stand up and deliver a message to a group of people but not stand behind a pulpit? Is it really that much difference in teaching a 17 year old male and a 19 year old male? Why would it be okay for a woman to lead a whole nation but not a church that has 50 members? Why does the bible speak favorably of a woman judge who led, taught and had authority over men and women, a woman apostle and women who led church in their homes?
As I continued to dig and search I came to the conclusion that Paul was not a sexist, that women are not clearly forbidden to teach, preach, shepherd or lead in the church and/or the home and that Jesus was a liberator of women.

Here are some of the reasons I am an egalitarian:
1. Scripture affirms that women were leaders in ministry – Phoebe was a deacon, Priscilla was a teacher, Lydia was an overseer.
2. Paul calls Junia an apostle in Romans 16:7
3. If Scripture allows for some ministry roles then we can’t disallow it. The era and culture of the day prevented widespread ministry roles, but Paul doesn’t say that women can’t serve in leadership roles.
4. In I Cor. 11:5 Paul says that women were praying and prophesying in church. In I Cor. 14:34-35 Paul is not restricting women from speaking – otherwise women would not be allowed to sing, give testimony, or say anything at all in church. I believe that Paul was actually refuting the faulty sexist tradition that was prevalent in his day. For more on this read what Cheryl Schatz wrote in her post “Who Dared To Contradict Paul?”
5. In I Tim. 2:11-14 the idea of women being forbidden to teach men is not a universal rule. If we make this universal and transcultural then we have to make all the commands of I Timothy transcultural. Cheryl Schatz also has an excellent post on this point.
6. Jesus treated women different than culture. He taught them and considered them His disciples – Mary of Mary and Martha and the woman at the well are good examples.
7 Given examples of women’s ministry in the Bible it is wrong to take one or two passages that could be situationally conditional and use them to deny or substantially restrict a group of laborers. The burden of proof lies with those that are doing the restricting and I believe they fail to provide the needed evidence. Dave at Clouds of Heaven has an excellent post on this idea here.

My name is Liz and I am a follower of Jesus Christ who lives in Texas (Dallas/Fort Worth area). I am married and have two sons. I enjoy reading, blogging, listening to music, going to movies, the emergent conversation and hanging out with friends and family. I recently started a blog called Grace Rules. I named my blog Grace Rules because although I have a history of letting things like rules, regulations, law, convictions, and stuff like that rule my life, I am determined to become a woman who is ruled by grace and love.

By Beth Booram

“It’s time for our reality to catch up to our poetry.” Andy Jacobs

Just days after Obama was elected, I was watching the news when former Indiana Congressman, Andy Jacobs, was interviewed. I don’t recall why he was, but I do remember observing his strong emotions as he described waiting for the election returns and wondering if his personal dream of seeing an African American as President would be realized.

At one point, Jacobs named the source of his inspiration when he referred to the Declaration of Independence. He recited the words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” Then he said with unabashed conviction, “It’s time for our reality to catch up with our poetry!”

That statement separated itself from all the other comments Jacobs made. It hung suspended by itself, containing a weight and significance I couldn’t ignore. I immediately transposed this thought to experiences in my life when the gap between reality and poetry was too far adrift. One experience pressed forward, its nerve struck by the truth of Jacob’s remark.

Most of my life, I have been involved in vocational Christian ministry in environments where women are excluded from certain roles and types of ministry within the church. As a woman, I have heard the poetry of women being valued and regarded for their contributions—being considered equals to men. But reality often displayed a different truth.

For example, I remember one Sunday morning, sitting in a service where a group was being commissioned for a short-term mission’s trip. The senior pastor introduced the team and then asked all the elders to come forward to lay hands on them and pray for them. I watched as the scene unfolded: a handful of men, and only men, mounted the platform with stately importance.

While the pastor prayed, I kept my eyes open and took in the drama as all male elders gathered around the team, their eyes closed, their faces composed of somber seriousness. They placed their hands on the shoulders of the harbingers—suggesting a transmission of kingly power and authority. I asked God, “Why?” “Why are only men invited to participate in this pastoral act?” The event spoke volumes to me. The subliminal message was clear. Men have a spiritual authority that women don’t have.

The poetry was getting old and beginning to sound sentimental. My heart ached for more than lyrical rhymes. The lines of verse were beautiful and noble, right and hopeful. And those who recited them assumed that I would be satisfied with listening to the poem. But what they failed to realize is that poetry awakens the heart. Mine wanted more than pretty language. I wanted the lines to become piercing, prophetic, and convicting. I wanted reality to catch up with the poetry.

Certainly, all of our lives, including mine, are riddled with gaps: places where what we say and what we do have an embarrassingly large space between them. I admit that I can be satisfied with hearing or speaking poetry but not allowing it to get under my skin and raise my ire toward action. I like the way it sounds but am too lazy and indifferent to work its truth into life.

So, right now, I am letting this statement sit on me so that I feel it’s weight. I am praying to see and address the gaps between poetry and reality in my world.

Beth Booram has a passion to explain and model a way of living responsively to God in the midst of life’s varied landscapes. As a writer and speaker, she is highly creative, often utilizing artistic elements , contemplative exercises, and engaging interaction. Beth has authored a number of excellent works. Her most recent are The Wide Open Spaces of God (Abingdon Press/ September, 2007) and Picturing the Face of Jesus (Abingdon Press/April, 2009).