As a first timer to the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship General Assembly, I was new to name tag ribbons. After checking in, I paused with my name tag at the table strewn with colors, examining the various identities like “Chaplain,” “El Familia” and “Thriving In Ministry.” As a recently ordained, multi-vocational gay woman, I didn’t see a designation that worked for me. Where was the ribbon that stated, “Middle-Aged Mom Attempting Atypical Path to Ministry”?
I paused in my unadorned nametag. Do I really belong here?
Sally Evans
After wandering around the cavernous Sheraton in Greensboro, N.C., I found my way to the opening block party. Large visuals celebrating Juneteenth met me among the tables for divinity schools and publishers. I stopped to put one of the red, black and green pins on my nametag so at least I’d have some flair. Then I walked over to the booth for the Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists. I had only recently heard of AWAB and was warmly greeted and presented with more to add to my lanyard.
I connected with a few friends from other churches and watched how, while we talked, they were constantly greeting fellow attendees. I got the sense this was for many like a big family reunion. Their camaraderie was palpable.
I started making my own spontaneous connections. In the elevator ride back up to my room, I struck up a conversation with someone whose grandfather was a pastor at my church years ago. I smiled. The welcome in this place was making its way to me.
That night I was weary from the long drive from Louisville, Ky., and extensive to-do lists to be away from home and family for these few days. I’ll just step into the late night service with Pan African Koinonia for a few minutes, I told myself.
When I opened the door to the ballroom, the energy of vibrant gospel music poured out. This was a departure from my own formal worship style, and it was filled with nutrients my soul needed. I stood there with hundreds of others gathered, soaking it in. Then Zina Jacque started to preach from the book of Exodus about being a “through people.” I found I couldn’t leave my seat until she finished.
The next morning after attempting to make something that resembled coffee in my hotel room, I made my way back down to the ballroom for the executive coordinator’s report. I will admit, my expectations were not high as this sounded to me like a perfunctory aspect of an annual meeting.
The man pointed out to me as Paul Baxley stood to speak and asked all the women in ministry seated in that room to stand. I stood. There was a prolonged, moving applause. He then declared, “We can no longer say, it’s not yet right for us! This is unmistakable evidence of God’s call!”
“I felt seen as a female minister and grateful to be a part of a denomination that proudly and without reservation ordains female pastors.”
Tears came to my eyes. I felt seen as a female minister and grateful to be a part of a denomination that proudly and without reservation ordains female pastors.
To my surprise, Paul Baxley went on to ask what it means to do redemptive ministry for LGBTQ members in our churches. I looked around, trying to read the room. Did LGBTQ issues typically come up in the coordinator’s report? Then it felt like Paul spoke directly to me: “To the members of LGBTQ, thank you for your faithfulness in being in this space.”
Without a doubt, I knew then. There was a place for me here.
Perhaps there wasn’t a ribbon that perfectly captured my life story, but I felt affirmed and acknowledged in a way I never had experienced at a denominational gathering. I didn’t know how much I needed it.
After Baxley finished, I turned to a fellow LGBTQ minister seated next to me.
“Has this ever happened before?” I asked.
“No,” he replied.
Crowds waiting in line to enter a session at CBF General Assembly.
We went on to process this more at the AWAB reception, a large, joy-filled gathering with music, refreshments and a loving energy that was evident the moment I arrived. This is the only organization solely devoted to building the welcoming and affirming movement within the Baptist traditions, and I deeply admire how they are living out a ministry of reconciliation among Baptist churches in various stages of welcome.
Again, I never had witnessed anything quite like this before in Baptist circles.
My final day at the CBF General Assembly arrived. I found myself seated in another large conference room around a table with friends from the Baptist Justice Coalition for the Baptist Women in Ministry luncheon. The room was buzzing as people found their seats. Not long after we dug into the salads before us, negotiating the dressing and rolls, Executive Director Meredith Stone stood up and announced that the keynote speaker couldn’t make it because her son was sick. A murmur of disappointment swept through the packed room, but the program moved forward.
“What happened next was no Plan B.”
What happened next was no Plan B.
With the headlines from the Southern Baptist Convention’s historic vote intended to strengthen their ban on female pastors fresh in our minds, Stone gave a passionate defense of our calling, identity and personhood.
Voice after voice rose to the podium and offered holy resistance to limiting the office of pastor to men: “May we repent for the times we have cut you in half, instead of allowing for a whole Savior!”
Slicing through rhetoric about biblical roles and gender, powerful female leaders called it out for what it is: suppressive patriarchal theology. Hundreds of pastors called to be the presence of Christ in that room were reminded that while some may try to limit the participation of women, we serve a God who cannot be limited.
With a full heart I returned to my hotel room that night. I was overwhelmed by all I had received over the past few days in the form of preaching, worship, workshops, new connections and conversations in the elevator.
As if that weren’t enough, as I stood looking out my window, a full moon started to slowly rise. Thank you, God, I whispered. I needed this.
This time away allowed me to sit at the feet of Jesus, away from a thousand distractions, to remember and reimagine. It infused life and fresh hope into my being on this long, winding journey. From where I stood there, I was able to envision something new on the horizon. I was able to see this is a fellowship in which I do indeed, belong.
Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious — the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies. — Philippians 4:8,9 (The Message)
Sally Evans is a writer, minister, audio artist and artful gatherer who is passionate about guiding those who have deconstructed their faith toward a more integrated relationship with God. She lives with her wife and twin daughters in Louisville, Ky., where they attend Highland Baptist Church.