By Laura Rector
I’m in the bookstore at an egalitarian seminary. Unfortunately, not everyone there is an egalitarian. An older gentleman waylays me, finds out what I do, and starts telling me I’m sinning for feeling called and for being one kind of Baptist and not another kind, and that I’m wasting my education by not using it to disciple only other women. All I really want to do is get my cup of coffee and get back to my schedule, but I try to be polite so he feels heard.
Later, I’m at a conference. I’ve just presented my first professional academic paper (totally unrelated to women’s leadership). I’ve been traveling non-stop for two weeks, because a grandparent died just before the conference. I’m relieved the paper is over and, frankly, just ready to rest, yet a casual hello to a fellow conference participant somehow turns into listening to a long monologue in which the man takes the opportunity to make sure I know, among other things, that “There’s absolutely no way a woman can be a church leader if you look at Scripture.”
As a woman in ministry, I walk away from such all-too-common experiences wondering, “Is there any such thing as good manners left in this world?” More importantly, where is the Jesus who said to love our neighbor?
Frankly, it takes a special kind of narcissism to engage a total stranger and question her love for her Savior — to imply or openly assume she’s sinning — when in reality you know absolutely nothing about her or her view of Scripture.
I have a B.A. in Christian studies, an M.Div., and six years of doctoral work behind me, yet many men (and, more rarely, women, too) start these conversations with me by assuming that I must know absolutely nothing about Scripture. They ask, “How could you possibly believe in the Bible and think women can be pastors?” But it’s rhetorical, and it’s never followed by a pause for an answer.
Strangely enough, they assume they will be the ones to instantaneously “correct” me and “fix” what years of studying, praying and seeking the Lord on the issue did not. They never question whether they themselves might be wrong, or if perhaps there’s something they should hear from me.
Why? Because the “lecturer” usually isn’t interested in me — just in “fixing” me, without even taking the time to get to know my thoughts. In such experiences, it seems like the “lecturer” has substituted assumptions and stereotypes for any real knowledge of the woman he or she is addressing.
When people are tempted to start a difficult conversation with a stranger, I wish they would ask themselves the following questions:
— “Does she have the time for this sort of conversation now, or would it be better to ask her at a more appropriate moment?”
— “Have I really listened to her view?”
— “Have I given her a chance to even respond in depth to the things I’m saying?”
— “Do I really know anything about her testimony or relationship with Jesus?”
— “Have I really known her long enough to broach this conversation?”
— “Have I expressed love for her and found common ground to affirm before launching into my own thoughts?”
Differences of opinion are real, and certainly leaders in the church must be prepared to discuss their core beliefs. As Christians, though, we are called to love our neighbor. At minimum, neighbor-love means that, if you cannot accept my calling, you must treat our differences with respect.
Casually lecturing a total stranger about a core part of her spirituality — something that’s driven into the deepest part of her heart and being — is not the way to start any relationship, and it does not show Christian love.