I think it was spring of 1999. As the young adults director of our church, I had recruited a small team of volunteers to serve on a short-term mission trip. We would work for the Minneapolis-to-Chicago AIDS Ride, assisting 1,000 riders on their five-day, 500-mile trek to raise money for AIDS research. This wasn't our church's standard mission trip, so there was certainly some skepticism about it from the rest of the church.
Apparently, the skepticism was mutual. The volunteer coordinators in Chicago had never encountered a batch of evangelicals looking to serve their cause. And they weren't exactly sure what to do with us. They sent two representatives on a road trip to meet with our motley band at our church in suburban Detroit after one of our Sunday services. Neither were churchgoers, and both were skeptical of Christians. They represented a community that felt marginalized by religious people. The goal of the visit: to get a sense of our style, our heart, and yes, our motives. In order to give them a feel for our church, I invited our guests to attend the service before the meeting.
Outside perspective
Have you ever brought a visitor to church and then spent all your mental energy trying to observe every detail of the service from your guest's perspective? That was me. When the service ended, I asked the per-functory question, "So what did you think?" Without hesitating, my acquaintance answered, "There were no women on the stage."
When the service ended, I asked, 'So what did you think?' Without hesitating, my acquaintance answered, 'There were no women on stage.'
It wasn't a critique per se, just a candid observation. Over the years, I'd heard dozens of comments from visitors. The music was good, or subpar. The preaching was uplifting, or lackluster. The people were friendly, or cold. I thought I had a decent grid for what to expect when I asked. Not today.
"There were no women on stage." He was right, of course. But I'd never noticed. I was blinded by my social position, church experience, and denominational history. The fact that the women in our congregation weren't regularly elevated in public never even crossed my mind. The irony was that, as far as churches go, I thought we had a strong position on the value of men and women and the unique contributions both genders bring to the mission of the local church. But my guest didn't sense that. He merely stated what he saw.
"There were no women on stage." Not a greeter, not a vocalist, not a reader, not an instrumentalist, and no, not a preacher. Those six words have haunted me for 15 years.
A new awareness
There are some male leaders who refuse to develop the gifts of women and intentionally shut them out of leadership. But I'm convinced there are many more like me—they are simply blinded by their background to the lack of female leadership around them. Usually there's no malice on the part of us men who are senior leaders in our congregations. But I'm convinced our oversight is costing us. We are missing an incredible opportunity.
The fact that women in our congregation weren't regularly elevated in public never even crossed my mind.
While on a study break at the seminary I attended, I stumbled across a website explaining a new initiative to create preacher formation groups. These cohorts, called Micah Groups, exist "to form empowered, wise preachers who seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God leading others to join God's mission in the world."
In just a few months, I was co-facilitating the Detroit-area group with David Shinn, who pastors a Korean-American congregation in another part of the city. One of the?distinguishing characteristics of Micah Groups is their commitment to diversity; each pair of Micah Group facilitators invites participants of different denominational traditions, varying ethnicity, and both genders. In our Micah Group we met every other month for two years. My friend and ministry colleague, Michelle, participated and I had the privilege of meeting Sara, Emma, and Lindsay.
Hearing the stories, passions, and perspectives of my newfound preacher friends was encouraging and enlightening. In Emma, I made my first connection with a female senior pastor from a denomination I wouldn't have interacted with under other circumstances. While Emma came from a background that ordained women, Sara's roots were in a tradition that did not. Rather than pick up and leave her denomination, Sara stayed and looked for opportunities to encourage other women with a proven or emerging capacity to preach and teach.
There are women in our churches today who are looking for more than our passive affirmation of their giftedness. They deserve our blessing.
And there's Lindsay, who as a pastor in a neighborhood church in Detroit, taught us about power differentials between genders, races, and classes. She graciously taught us about the many complexities and nuances required to function in her context as well as the challenges and joys she experiences on a regular basis.
Michelle can preach, but she'd really rather lead a small group of junior high girls, painting a picture of how their lives might look when they anchor their identity in Christ rather than the endless stream of counterfeit personas served up by the surrounding culture.
When women are given a seat at the preaching table—whatever form that may take in a given tradition—they bring fresh perspective. Sara, for instance, who had served as a missionary in Uganda shared how the women there gravitated to the person of Bathsheba, rather than King David, when they read 2 Samuel 11. God made us both male and female. We need both genders to understand a Creator who transcends gender.
Seek and develop
Our two-year experiment wrapped up this spring. Because of it I feel a renewed desire to identify and encourage the emerging female voices in our church. Make no mistake. The women that God has gifted and called in our faith communities don't need our permission to speak or our platform to do so. A cursory review of global church history proves that the Teresa of Avilas, Mother Teresas, Catherine Booths, and Amy Carmichaels of the world didn't sit on their hands waiting for the male powers to deputize them for service. However, there are women in our churches today who are looking for more than our passive affirmation of their giftedness. And they deserve our active blessing.
Sometimes that comes in baby steps; sometimes in leaps.
I currently serve at one of the campuses of a large multisite church. Because our leadership team is committed to live teaching, with rare exceptions, at all of our locations, every campus pastor has the task of developing emerging teachers at that site. This year, our campus leadership team has been asking, "Where is God developing new preachers in our midst? What voices are currently missing from our regular teaching rotation? Who is God calling us to invest in more strategically?" We still have a long way to go, but I feel we're moving in the right direction.
Last winter I was at a screening for a film about Jerusalem with some Jewish rabbis from a local synagogue. One of them, Rabbi Marla, was the first to break the gender barrier as an ordained rabbi at their temple, the largest of its kind in the nation. Over lunch she asked me whether or not women's voices were being included in our services. I was finally able to reply that one of my dear friends and trusted lay leaders, Michelle, would be speaking at our Mother's Day service. "A good first step," Marla noted. "But everybody expects her on a day that focuses on women. When else do you plan on getting her in the mix?" It was a fair question and it prompted some further dialogue on the part of our team.
The question isn't really, 'Should we be creating opportunities for women leaders to stretch and grow?' Instead it should be, 'Which women already display callings and gifting and how will we invest in them?'
A few months ago, my friend Danny and I drafted a proposal. We asked for, and received, permission to lead a Micah Group at our church. We invited a small group, which includes three women, to walk with us through the Micah Group curriculum. The aim is to get all cohort members, both men and women, opportunities to preach in a number of forums that will be a match for their gifts and experience levels.
I don't know what journey God has for you when it comes to developing women who are gifted speakers. I'm not ignorant of the fact that there's a whitehot theological debate about if, or how, women should speak, and about what official roles they should have. I'm not here to further that debate. Both camps on this issue claim to value the unique contribution women bring to the local church. Both camps recognize that godly women bring a needed perspective that will enrich our proclamation of the gospel. So the question isn't really, "Should we be creating opportunities for women leaders to stretch and grow?" Instead it should be, "Which women already display callings and gifting and how will we invest in them so that their voice can edify the church?"
I have three daughters (and a son). When I tuck them into bed every night, I pray that God will give them a voice that will extend the purposes of his kingdom in their lifetimes. Mature, godly, intelligent women (including my mother and four sisters) have helped shaped my voice. If I fail to help the emerging women teachers, preachers, and prophets in my midst, I'll be on par with the foolish servant who buried his talents rather than invest them.
I need to get back to Chicago one of these days. Maybe I can track down the volunteer coordinator who came to church with me in 1999. I just want to say "thanks." Wherever you are, I heard you. And we're working on it.
Steve Norman is a campus pastor at Kensington Church in Troy, Michigan.
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