That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. — 2 Corinthians 12:10
I was ordained alongside my husband on a Sunday afternoon in a small Southern Baptist church. My parents and sister attended. I saw my mother wipe a tear away, grateful that I was listening to the Lord. Our pastor welcomed the congregation to lay hands on us in recognition of our calling to ministry. A seminary friend read a poem written by our favorite seminary professor.
Kathy Hoppe
Lately people ask, “Why don’t you just leave the SBC?” They do not realize the complexity of that decision. They think it’s about setting limits.
It would mean severing ties that extend 70 years. Leaving would be abandonment of a pastor who cares for me and a supportive community group. Others are asking me to walk away from a legacy and tell the church that ordained me, and was later disciplined for that ordination, that their sacrifice was unimportant.
Perhaps leaving is right for others — certainly other friends and colleagues found homes elsewhere. But for me, staying is as much a calling as my ordination. Here’s why.
“For me, staying is as much a calling as my ordination.”
First, calling is about God’s will, not my need for recognition. When my church ordained me, they saw the Lord had gifted me in unique ways to minister to others. They did not ordain me to be a pastor or to preach — we had long discussions about that.
However, they stated unequivocally they did not want to limit how God chose to use me. That calling was discerned, affirmed and commissioned by the church, family, friends and mentors.
To abandon that call on behalf of a larger group who has not witnessed God’s work in my life would be to diminish God’s leading of the people who trusted me with ministry.
Second, my current church is a family. We celebrate, rejoice and grieve together. We enjoy learning from one another, but we also fight at times. We don’t agree on everything, mostly women’s ordination, but also on other things. I never would ask my brother or sister to leave, and they have not asked me to leave. Staying is a way of acknowledging that families continue to work on their relationships and in that way witness to the world how families manage conflict.
Third, my local congregation matters. They decide how, what and when things occur. Baptist polity places the responsibility and authority in local churches. While national bodies can disfellowship a church, that congregation still exists, free to make their choices according to God’s desires.
My church does not laud my ordination, but they affirm my gifts. Remaining honors my church and supports the ministries in which I’m involved.
Fourth, leaving does not advance women in ministry or their ordination. If I say, “I’ll just take my gifts elsewhere,” my absence will not prompt reform. When marginalized people withdraw, institutions become more rigid, making change less likely. If I leave, that becomes a way of reinforcing the exclusionary beliefs.
I refuse to say, “I’ll take my toy and go home.” Instead, I will remain as a “thorn in the flesh.”
“If I say, ‘I’ll just take my gifts elsewhere,’ my absence will not prompt reform.”
Fifth, leaving costs my family. It means asking my spouse, whose ministry identity and ordination are tied to the denomination, to seek affirmation elsewhere. It would mean sacrificing his connections for my need for recognition.
That never was a part of God’s calling upon us. Asking him to leave because others are uncomfortable with my ordination is morally wrong. The adults, youth and especially young girls are watching. I play a part in their faith formation and God’s calling on their lives. If I walk away, I reinforce a message that people are disposable when doctrinal discomfort arises.
Finally, my presence is prophetic. When I lead, teach or invest in others, I model an image of those who bear gospel authority. I show what God does with a person who surrenders to God’s lead. Everything I do preaches, not just my words. It reshapes how people expect to see God at work and what might be possible in the future.
Staying does not mean silence or being complicit to the current ethos. I speak, teach, write and press for change wherever I serve. I help to equip others, to hold leaders accountable and draw them into conversations about Scripture in authentic ways.
For me, remaining is a commitment to reform, not retreat. It means owning the award I received recently — the Heart of Hope. When I stay, I model that hope. What I see in the present is not what I desire, but what I see for the future are possibilities.
I welcome you into conversation about Scripture, beliefs and those who we hope to influence. It is in deep and hard conversations that we learn to listen, not to win, but to seek truth together.
Kathy Hoppe serves as an associate professor of psychology at Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, Okla.