How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand…there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold. –JRR Tolkien
It’s been a while since I last posted. Years, in fact, since I began. I promised to answer that question I have been asked so many times over the years: how do I understand this age-old debate about the “place” or “role” of women in church? The bigger question is more expansive and includes the family and society, but for now I will focus my attention on the church. First let me take you back into my journey by giving you a bit more of my story. Then I’ll take you into my search for a solid answer and show you where I have arrived, and why.
*****
It was just another Sunday morning, as Sunday mornings had become in those days and not as they had once been. Another church collision had occurred, shattering what life had been for eight years since leaving Tri-Cities Baptist Church. There had been more pain, more confusion, more anger for many. As a result I had determined that I would not let something like this happen again, and I was cautious about becoming involved in yet another church. My focus was on my youngest child, a daughter. What had occurred had left her angry, feeling betrayed. Since she was in her early teens, this was especially concerning for me. My attention was focused on trying to hold on to her so she wouldn’t completely walk away from church in her heart and mind, if not in her body.
I had met the pastor of the church the two of us were now visiting when I had spoken at an event in the community. Afterward he had approached me wanting to talk, to ask questions and discuss some of the things I had said. He had asked me to visit his church someday. So in my search for a new church where my daughter might find a point of connection, I had taken him up on the invitation. The two of us had been attending there for a few months.
Not infrequently the pastor would stop me after a service and ask me what I thought about his sermon. Those who know me know that’s not a question to ask me if you don’t want an honest answer! To his credit he knew that, and that’s why he asked. One Sunday morning when the service was over, I employed my frequently used “dodge the preacher” move to edge around someone he was shaking hands with and sneak past. I thought I had successfully made my escape when suddenly I heard him calling my name, asking me to wait up.
He caught up to me and started talking about how he had struggled with the message that week. Then he asked me what I thought about it. I told him I hadn’t heard anything terribly off, but that the message had been weak. I had listened carefully, waiting and hoping he would bring in some connections I saw that would have taken it to a whole new level. He listened intently to my brief explanation of those connections and responded, “Wow…I’ve never seen that before!” Then he asked the question he had asked several times in the past: “Jan, why don’t you write me a sermon? You could write me several; I promise I would preach them.” Before I had always responded with a laugh and some comment like, “Yeah, you wish!” before walking away. This day was different. My daughter was listening to this exchange, and I felt it was time to address what he was asking.
Donning a quizzical expression intended to make what was about to come feel less confrontational to him I said, “Let me make sure I’m hearing what you’re asking me correctly. You want me to write a sermon or sermons for you to preach. Apparently, you are confident that I have the knowledge, skill, and insights to do this well or you wouldn’t be asking. And you know I have the ability to deliver them myself. The only reason you would be preaching these sermons instead of me is that I am a woman. Does that about sum it up?” He laughed, nodded and said, “Hey, I didn’t make the rules!” I wanted to ask him what made him so sure those were the rules, but I caught myself before the words came out. Going down that path with him at this time and place would have been pointless, if not disastrous. He went on: “Come on, think about it. I’d even give you credit.” He had no idea what dangerous ground he was treading on. It was time for me to make my exit. Shaking my head, I said, “You might as well give it up. It won’t be happening.” He laughed, and I walked out the door my daughter had been holding open for me.
The two of us walked across the parking lot in silence, my thoughts focused on what had just occurred. Finally I looked at my daughter and said, “Well, that was interesting.” It was then that I saw the storm in her expression, the fire in her eyes. She began with “That makes me furious!” and the storm broke. I waited, letting her release her anger. Finally she addressed a question to me: “Don’t you realize what a put down it was for him to ask you to write a sermon for him because you’re a woman and aren’t allowed to speak?” I gave a little laugh and said, “That’s not the first time he’s asked, and he’s not the first to ask me. I suppose I’ve gotten used to it.” She stopped suddenly in her tracks, stared intently into my eyes, and said, “Mom, that’s not something you should ever get used to!” There was a pause, then she went on: “I will never come back to this church and listen to him preach again.” I didn’t respond; there was nothing to say. She was right.
My search for a church where my daughter could possibly find some point of connection would begin again, but that would have to wait. Just then she needed some down time to recover; we both did, but for different reasons. For her, I was thinking about her life, her future. For me, I believed that time had passed. What she didn’t know, what no one knew, was that after the last church fiasco, I had finally had enough. I was tired. I was done.
A couple of years earlier, not long before the church debacle that proved to be the last straw for me, I had led a few sessions at a national Christian Medical/Dental Association (CMDA) conference. One of the keynote speakers for the conference had been Christian teacher and author Bruce Wilkinson. A prolific writer, speaker, and promoter, Wilkinson was well-known in evangelical circles, having risen to prominence in 1976 with the release of his “Walk Thru the Bible” training series. His most recent publication, a little book titled The Prayer of Jabez published in 2000 by Multnomah Books, had propelled him once again into the Christian spotlight. The book was to become an international bestseller, eventually selling more than 20 million copies worldwide. In 2001 the Evangelical Christian Publishers Association awarded this little book the Gold Medallion Book of the Year. When Wilkinson spoke at the CMDA conference that year, he was riding the evangelical energy wave of the “Big Thing” at the dawn of the 21st century.
When the frenzied excitement began soon after the publication of this book, I didn’t join the throngs running out to buy and read it. As you know if you’ve been reading my story thus far, I’m a bit—okay, a lot—skeptical when it comes to “Christian celebrities” and the “Big Things” of the day. But since everyone was talking about the message of this book, and since I would be leading some sessions at the conference where Wilkinson was to speak, I finally broke down and read it. It was a quick read, with nothing to really sink my teeth into. Two verses interpreted through the lens of a prosperity gospel perspective. My thoughts of its message and the reception it had gotten could be condensed into an astounded, Really?
Hearing Wilkinson’s message at the conference based on the concepts presented in his book did nothing to change my thinking. Instead, it raised even more questions. In my opinion, the message he presented had some significant problems. As he spoke I looked around the room at the faces of the medical professionals listening to him; as a whole, they were captivated. But then, he was a gifted speaker and knew how to capture and hold the attention of an audience.
After he had spoken his final time, a small group of conference speakers and leaders gathered informally to chat. Talk turned to the topic of Wilkinson’s need to leave to catch a flight. Since I had finished my last session and was leaving anyway, I was asked if I could give him a ride to the airport. I said I would, thinking that the 20-minute drive would give us a chance to talk.
I began by asking him questions about some of the things he had said in his messages, then moved into some of the concerns I had about his interpretation and application of those two scripture verses that served as the foundation of his book. I was driving and talking, taking my thoughts deeper and deeper, not looking at him, almost forgetting he was there, when I suddenly became aware of his presence and his silence. Realizing that I was saying more than I had intended to, maybe too much, I became self-conscious and abruptly stopped talking. I glanced at him and saw him staring at me intently, curiously. Hoping to relieve the tension, I made a self-deprecating comment and laughed. He didn’t. I still felt his gaze and was getting a bit uncomfortable when he finally spoke.
“Jan,” he began, “I’m confused about something. You have been gifted with such knowledge and insights. There’s no question that you have an anointing of the Spirit. And yet for some reason you hold back and don’t let what’s in you out. I wonder why…Jan, who or what has squelched you?”
It was then that I realized why he had been staring at me while I talked: he had been reading me. His words were so on point that they struck me like a physical blow. I drove in silence for a few moments, trying to wrap my head around the fact that what he had seen was so accurate, wondering if he really wanted an answer and, if so, how I could answer him. I realized my hands were clenching the steering wheel. I made a deliberate attempt to relax them and took a breath, trying to release my tension. He was still watching me, waiting. I knew I had to say something, but there was no way I was going to have this conversation with him at this point in time. Finally I said quietly, “There are reasons it’s not possible…reasons I can’t…” I realized I was stammering so I stopped. He didn’t respond, but I could tell he wanted me to continue. We were only a few minutes from the airport by now. I wanted him out of my car and on his way so I deflected, shifting the conversation by telling him we were almost there, asking him where he would like to be dropped off. My attempt was successful only because he allowed it to be. Then, just like that, he was gone.
He was gone, but his words were not. The question he had so pointedly asked burned itself into my mind and heart: Jan, who or what has squelched you? I knew the answer. When the experience that proved to be my last straw happened not long after, I put his question away with everything else and succumbed to the darkness of lost hope. In that darkness, I didn’t want to think. I turned my focus to preparing, and waiting.
*****
More than a decade would pass before I found myself in a place I had not expected to be—still alive, and divorced. The year was 2013. Hesitantly, cautiously, I began again my search for a church where I could connect and maybe rebuild my trust. This time I had only myself to think about. It was a very strange and unexpected place to be; I could now begin to search and explore without constraint. I wasn’t sure I could ever get to that point of “letting go,” but I was going to try.
A close friend and her husband had become members of a Christian church in the area. I listened carefully as she talked about how different her experiences there had been, so I decided to visit and finally became a member. I learned the church had in the past been hierarchical in its approach to women in positions of leadership but had successfully navigated a change to an egalitarian structure in which both men and women served the church without respect to their genders. I wanted to know how they had accomplished this, and what their thinking had been. More importantly, I needed to finally resolve the issue in my own mind and heart.
One Sunday morning I approached the pastor after the morning service and asked him about this. I told him I needed to delve deeply into this issue, to work it through before I could move on. He responded that I needed to talk to Bob Hull, a member of the church, the one who had helped lead their church in making the transition. He explained that Bob was a retired professor of New Testament, a scholar in Greek and Hebrew who had published many scholarly works including a book on the New Testament text, yet a wise, humble man. Then he said the words that stuck with me: “He’s brilliant, and he’s also very, very kind.” Those words caught my attention. I was cautious and not a little skeptical, but maybe… So I got his number and made the call.
He listened as I explained what I wanted—to be able to listen to what he had to say, to read, to raise my objections and work them through to resolution. He readily agreed to help me and gave me his email address, saying we would discuss by email since writing was the way he best expressed his thoughts. In my first message to him I addressed him as Dr. Hull. His response to me set the tone for what was to come: “Feel free to call me ‘Bob.’ Not only have you and I never been in a classroom setting where the ‘Dr.’ might make some sense, but I strongly believe that in the church degrees and titles don’t matter; we all stand on the same ground in Christ.” Those words gave me my first glimpse of the amazing person I had just encountered.
And so it began. Over the next weeks, then months, our discussions were frequent as he pointed me to books to read and ideas to consider. He explained that his own experience of rethinking scripture “was part of a deliberate, deep, and wide program of study, encompassing, first, the reading of vast amounts of material from early Jewish, Greek, and Roman sources on male/female nature and relationships, cultural and social practices, and even legal regulations, so that I could better understand the cultural setting in which the NT documents were written.” It was clear Bob had focused much time and energy on coming to a thorough understanding of this topic. I felt I could rely on his knowledge and trust his scholarship, since his was a level of knowledge that I could not, at this stage in my life, attain.
I flew through everything he suggested I read—books, articles written by him and by others—everything he mentioned, along with anything else I came across that seemed relevant. A lecture series he had presented at a church in Oregon six years earlier, in 2007, proved to be extremely helpful. Its title was “Side By Side In The Gospel: Paul, Women, and Ministry,” and its stated purpose was to look at one specific question: “To what extent may and should women serve alongside men in the various ministries of the church?”
I listened, I read, I questioned, I challenged, I argued—and a little over two months into our discussion, I saw. I was working my way through a book written by Gilbert Bilezikian titled Beyond Sex Roles: What the Bible Says about a Woman’s Place in Church and Family (Baker Academic, 2006) when suddenly I realized my mind and spirit had settled and my struggle to understand had ceased. I had reached the point of understanding.
Even though that question had been settled in my heart and mind, I continued to read and research. Hearing about the woman apostle mentioned in the New Testament (Junia) had been an eye-opener when Bob Hull had first called my attention to her and to the translation error that had “changed” her gender in the 13th century.[1] I was surprised to learn that “every edition of the Greek NT except one until 1927 (38 editions in all) treated the name as feminine.” My dive into the study of implicit bias led me to understand how those mindbugs[2] we as humans possess could have caused an obscure scholar, unable to accept that a woman could have been an apostle, to refer to Junia and Andronicus as “those honorable men.” I was amazed to learn that “in 1994 the editions of the Greek NT used by virtually all scholars in the world, reversed course and shifted back to the feminine form.” Why? Because after all the years that had passed, no one had found even a single case of a man being named Junia in all of Greek or Latin literature. Junia was known to be the name of a woman. There was no doubt; Paul had sent his greetings to a woman who was an apostle, an “outstanding” apostle (Romans 16:7).
I thought back to 1994, to where I had been at that time in my life and why I hadn’t heard about this long-overdue correction. That had been the year that I had come across the small out-of-print book by John Hunter and had made the trip to England to meet him. As a result my life had changed in ways I could not have imagined. I remembered our conversations about Dr. Hunter’s belief that women have no restrictions in the exercise of their gifts. He was firm in his convictions on the subject, but he could not explain why to my satisfaction. So the conflict within me had remained, and intensified.
My thoughts went back to that pivotal time in the late 1980s when the divide between those in evangelical circles who believed in a hierarchy as it related to men and women in the church, and those who believed the biblical model for relations and service in the church was “side by side in the Gospel,” came to a head. I knew the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood (CBMW) had been formed during this time, but I didn’t know much about how it came into being. I knew that the founding statement, The Danvers Statement, was first published by CBMW in November 1988. In January 1989 it had appeared alongside a center-spread advertisement in Christianity Today.
I went back and read The Danvers Statement once again, approaching it as if looking at it for the first time, and I was struck by how little solid support was given for their position. The arguments were weak and lacked substance. That led me to wonder: at the time this statement was first published, did anyone answer and challenge their position? I did some looking and came across a paper titled “Response to the Danvers Statement,” written by a man named R. K. McGregor Wright and delivered at the Christians for Biblical Equality Conference in February 1989, one month after the paid center-spread advertisement for CBMW appeared in Christianity Today magazine. A year later, in 1990, Christians for Biblical Equality (CBE) published a statement titled “Men, Women & Biblical Equality” in Christianity Today. And so it began—or so I thought.
R. K. McGregor Wright. Who was this man who had from the beginning biblically challenged the assertions made by this noted group of evangelicals? I did more digging and found he was an evangelical Bible teacher, theologian, writer, scholar and apologist, and was originally from Australia. Together with his wife, Julia Castle, he had founded and co-directed the Aquila and Priscilla Study Center, a Bible and apologetics teaching ministry. I learned they had lived and worked in Colorado for many years, but had moved in the late ’90s to east Tennessee to help care for Julia’s aging mother. That caught my attention and I wondered, where in east Tennessee? I soon found out, and the answer left me stunned: they had moved to Johnson City. That’s where I was living!
Wright had died four years earlier, in 2012, but I wondered if his wife was still living in the area. I discovered that their ministry website was still active, and there was a contact email. So I sent off a message to her. To my surprise, she answered immediately and agreed to meet for lunch and talk with me.
At her request we met at Tupelo Honey Café, and once again I felt as if I had stepped through the looking glass. We spent over two hours together that day, with her responding to my questions and telling her story of their experience, and with me listening intently. She said that the two had met while studying at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, Illinois. When they first met Wright told her he was pursuing a Master of Theology, and she had responded: “Oh, that’s the degree I wanted to get but I was told I couldn’t pursue it.” He was puzzled and asked her why: “Because I’m a woman.” That answer outraged him, and he launched into an explanation of reasons why that view would not hold up theologically. And so their relationship began.
I listened carefully as she talked about the many discussions Wright had had with his peers about this topic in the 1970s. But the momentum had built, and by the late 1980s the battle lines were clearly drawn. Her story was filled with details only someone who had been there would know. I was fully aware that I had been led into this encounter—it had been no accident or coincidence—and I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this precious gift of her time.
There is so much more I could tell you and show you, things I have both learned and been shown, but I think I have given you enough to let you feel the intensity of the struggle I faced and get an idea of the time I invested and the seriousness with which I approached searching for an answer to that question that I and so many others have struggled with for so long: how do I understand this age-old debate about the “place” or “role” of women in church? Of his journey Bob Hull once wrote this to me: “I’ll admit straight up that my long path to reaching the conclusion that women ought to stand on equal ground with men in church life and leadership included a great more than the study of history and exegesis, although such study was essential. My experience as a teacher at Emmanuel, where I continually encountered bright, inquisitive, committed Christian women (like you!) whose skills and training were every bit the equal of our best male students played a large role in my re-thinking process.”
Rethinking any topic of this importance should not be approached lightly or worked through quickly. When we do come face-to-face with the reality that changing our thinking and behavior is necessary, “we might have to admit that God does things that we may not even be comfortable with: women on the streets of Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost, women as evangelists, as apostles, as coworkers in the gospel. We may recognize that there isn’t even any gender distinction regarding gifts, since there is not a men’s list and a women’s list (1 Cor. 12; Eph. 4), and the Holy Spirit distributes these gifts not according to our comfortable categories but for the good of all according to the divine will.”[3]
There is one more thing I think might be helpful to mention as I wrap this up for now. The work of CBE continues to provide a wealth of information for anyone who wants to look at this question more closely. Their description of who they are reads like this: “CBE International (Christians for Biblical Equality) is a nonprofit organization of Christian women and men who believe that the Bible, properly translated and interpreted, teaches the fundamental equality of women and men of all racial and ethnic groups, all economic classes, and all ages, based on the teachings of Scriptures such as Galatians 3:28: ‘There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.’” (NIV, 2011). So if you’re questioning or struggling, you might find some answers or direction on their website (https://www.cbeinternational.org ). You can be sure of finding one thing there—you will most certainly find that you are not alone.
Oh, and one more last thing—that “letting go” so many people over the years kept bugging me about. I got there. I can finally say with joy and relief that I am squelched no more! If Bob Hull was still living, I’m pretty sure he would say at this point, “It sure took you long enough!” Yes, Bob, it did. It took as long as it took.
[1] Junia, The First Woman Apostle, Eldon Jay Epp (Fortress Press, Minneapolis, 2005).
[2] See my blogpost titled “The Wonderful Thing About Sneetches”. Accessible from the Menu.
[3] Liberating Tradition (Renewed Minds): Women’s Identity and Vocation in Christian Perspective, Kristina LaCelle-Peterson (Baker Academic, 2008).
Jan C Riley 