I have been called a lot of things in my life. Some nice and some that would make my mother gasp.
One I liked the least was when my senior pastor, who denied my call to ministry, attempted to relate to me, a young woman. He called me “a princess of the Most High King.”
Do not get me wrong, I have four nieces and feel comfortable being situated in princess lore. I love the idea of being a princess when I read romance books, paint my fingernails stereotypically pink and desire a mental escape from reality.
Joy Martinez-Marshall
Unfortunately, my pastor’s gesture never felt right to me. Maybe it was because I was once again being relegated to a caricature of women. Caged in what men think women want, implying we are powerless.
How could a little girl like me possibly lead men? Can you even see over that pulpit? How could a little girl like you run a church? Girls cannot be pastors! Are you the secretary? Excuse me, miss, I’m here to meet with the pastor.
Sadly, I can report that I have heard these statements and questions in the past four weeks. Having good humor helps, but the constant undercutting of my calling takes its toll, chipping away at my resolve. These experiences are not singular if you serve on pastoral staff as a woman.
As the Southern Baptists met to vote on the Law Amendment and cling tightly to what they believe is the unifying battle cry, I sat in my basement preparing my sermon. After fielding a call from my dad, I opened a commentary. It was Thursday afternoon, I had finally found an angle for my sermon: Keep on, keeping on. Do not lose heart though our bodies are wasting away, war is waging, politicians are becoming felons, attendance is declining, Palestinians lay dead, natural disasters destroy neighborhoods, there is construction by the building making it impossible for our differently abled members to park and someone in Lincoln, Neb., recently was taken to a mortuary while still alive.
Paul wrote to the Corinthians frankly and boldly. He wanted them to reconcile with him after the “painful visit.” Adamantly, he reminded the gathered faith community not to lose heart. He penned, “For our slight, momentary affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen, for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”
“The week of the SBC meeting week was but a ‘momentary affliction.’”
The week of the SBC meeting week was but a “momentary affliction.” For me, the vote hurt again; although I have removed myself from the denomination, its impact still affects me. It impacts the culture and especially anyone associated with Baptists.
Even if the amendment did not pass per the procedural requirements, the majority agreed the office of pastor should be confined to men. All week, I saw Facebook posts, pictures of delegates from family members’ churches in Indianapolis, and I fielded questions. The wounds that were healed, the doubt I overcame and the rejection weathered crawled back into the forefront of my mind.
How could the place where so many women came to love Jesus Christ and be baptized disapprove of all they taught us? How could a place once teaching us to proclaim the gospel tell us we are liberal ploys militarized by neo-feminism? How could they claim Baptist women in ministry have no love for God or understanding of biblical authority while many of us were educated in their institutions?
During the week of the SBC meeting, losing heart loomed. Still, while the SBC disfellowshipped to denounce so many of my sisters’ callings, the American Baptist Churches USA Board of General Ministries met. We, too, prayed God would continue to guide us. That we would be a particular community of people called Baptists to share the good news of Jesus Christ in the world.
No doubt there were disagreements and varied theological stances. Robert’s Rules sticklers and enthusiasts shone bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Eye rolls were inevitable. There might have been arguing and heated debate; however, the idea of women called to ministry was resolutely supported. My voice was welcomed to the family table even if some might have thought I am just a “little girl.” Thankfully, there were more testimonies to remind me that “even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day.”
My hope was restored as ABC USA members celebrated the installation of our general secretary, Gina Jacobs-Strain. Those gathered in the Federated Church of Green Lake, Wis., and online felt the affirmation of God’s call to women in all forms of ministry without any mention of royal titles. Jacobs-Strain made history by following God’s call on her life regardless of what other Baptists might say.
Two weeks ago, some Baptists screamed “hold the line” — a tired phrase used by scared men who fear the movement of the Holy Spirit. Screaming, “We must hold the line lest we become like the leftist Bible-denying sinners!”
“Who really needs those parts of Scripture when so many act like all the law and prophets hang on 1 Timothy?”
Does the narrative of Scripture not include Pentecost, the women at the tomb in Luke’s Gospel, or the title Paul uses in reference to Phoebe? (Don’t even get me started on Junia or Mary Magdalene.) I mean, who really needs those parts of Scripture when so many act like all the law and prophets hang on 1 Timothy? Not to mention the fact that Timothy must be encouraged by Paul to “man up.” Timothy does not exude traditionally masculine qualities when compared to Deborah’s military leadership prowess or Jael’s brute force, but I digress.
Bad gender stereotypes hurt everyone. We Christians should not be pitting she-roes and heroes of the faith against each other for more likes and shares. “Holding the line” means continuing to ignore women and girls within your congregations. It means continuing to make the Spirit move where you think it should although the biblical testimony proves it never works. This is not and never will be bravery.
Holding the line against a made-up bogeywoman so you can continue to consolidate power would certainly not make for Christ-centered discipleship.
So go on. We all know you will. Continue to make your circle smaller. Lock the doors of your echo chamber from the inside. Quote militaristic movies in hopes you might feel as strong as the main character one day. Limit God and call it interpretation. Allow your churches to breed many forms of abuse and victimize anyone who looks or votes differently than you. Make the pulpit your dais so you feel safe. Ignore female pastors, vote against them or put “women” pastors in quotation marks. Obsess over what we, women in ministry, are doing instead of cleaning up your side of the street.
As for the rest of us, we will continue to write our sermons, sharing how Jesus interacted with women. With hope that in 20 years, little girls in congregations will not have to listen to sad gendered platitudes about being princesses when they are called to be co-heirs, deaconesses, pastors and general secretaries.
What you say is not and never will be “Law” to all Baptists. Baptist women in ministry, plan to keep on keeping on.
Joy Martinez-Marshall serves as pastor of First Baptist Church of Lincoln, Neb. She shares in ministry with two other congregations that call 1340 K Street their home. As pastor, Joy helps lead K Street Lunch (a sack lunch ministry in partnership with FBCL’s sibling congregations), other nonprofits and a local retirement community. She is vice president of the Faith Coalition of Lancaster County, an interfaith group that seeks to educate and support faith communities. She holds a bachelor’s degree in religion from Baylor University and a master of divinity degree from George W. Truett Theological Seminary. As a native Texan, she loves to cook and knows the value of the perfect game day snack. Find her reading on her tablet while drinking a cold Dr Pepper or cheering on Liverpool FC, the Dallas Mavericks and Cowboys alongside her husband, Austin.