Rev. Cathy Kaminski is lead pastor of Trinity Community Church in Cincinnati, OH. Cathy is neither political or apathetic. She thinks it’s vital to life and health to acknowledge the reality of the world and figure out where you stand. She tries to choose solidarity rather than division.

When I first heard Hillary Clinton’s campaign motto I was struck by the sheer brilliance of it. “I’m with her.” It’s a simple statement. A common phrase in today’s vernacular. But also a concept so much greater than ideology or view point. This motto is a declaration of solidarity. And there is great power in being in it together.

Whatever your political prowess there is much to learn from this election. I’m not talking about leaning to the right or the left. There has been ugliness in this season that has highlighted the worst of humanity. Yet I believe there have been and still remain opportunities for greatness. How? But finding the humanity in the chaos. By seeing the opportunities before us in this tumultuous time and navigating through side by side.

I’m hoping that we can all agree that this particular election has become heated, at times polarizing and on more than one occasion hits below the belt. Why is this offensive? Because politics should be about politics. It should be about electing a representative for our nation that can lead us…it shouldn’t be about bank accounts, emails or least of all gender.

But throughout this election there were moments when it was about gender. And every time my heart broke a little. Why? Because when the election becomes about gender instead of experience/beliefs/character/capacity/leadership we paint with such a broad stroke it tends to belittle, stereotype and diminish the conversation. We can do this in the church as well and it tears me up every time. When we narrow our eyes to see only gender we miss out on the extravagance of God’s grace. With our eyes fixed on one point, one position, one perspective we can fail to see just how many gifts God showers on the Church through a vast variety of people.

One of the goals of the Covenant’s Biblical Gender Equality Commission is to carry the conversation of women in ministry forward. I am fully aware that this is a point of contention for people. Individuals and families have left the church over being for or against this understanding of scripture. But do we have to be so polarized in our differences? Do we have to get heated and take humanity out of the equation? When we make this conversation so specifically about gender that we forget our sisters, mothers, daughters and friends who are obediently trying to be faithful to God’s call we tear them down. Even if it’s not our view point we don’t have to add to the ugliness. We have an opportunity to stand with those we agree with and with those we don’t.

“I’m with her,” is not necessarily a statement of absolute agreement. Or at least I want to argue it doesn’t have to be. In this year’s election the Clinton campaign is using it as such, but it dares me to dream for more. “I’m with her” is a statement of solidarity. It’s a declaration of support. And support does not have to be agreement, but respect and encouragement. Think about it this way: in my life I have encountered many people who believe in women in ministry and those who do not. Some of those people supported me and others challenged me. The thing is their scriptural understanding did not necessarily dictate their support. Some of my biggest supporters and advocates did not believe in women in ministry. But they believed in me. They stood beside me when others persecuted. They proclaimed, “I’m with her” when others questioned me. Their solidarity empowered me when their criticism could have torn me down.

If women in ministry is an issue for you, if you are wrestling through the history of the church, biblical interpretation, tradition and practice: great. Wrestle. Question, seek God, pray, study and find conviction. But don’t tear down others whose understanding and conviction differs. Don’t be a part of the worst humanity embodies, but the best. Say “I’m with her.” Not because you agree or disagree but because she is a person and as such, precious. Because she has been given the Imago Dei, (she is an image bearer of God). Christ died for her and loves her, so stand with her!

Our culture praises the individual who can stand on her own two feet. But why stand alone or push someone to stand alone? There is such power, influence and even resilience in standing together. Why not stand together? Whatever your conscience and whatever your vote this election season, I challenge you to embody the sentiment of “I’m with her.” Choose solidarity over division. Choose humanity over all else.

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Evelmyn Ivens graduated from North Park Theological Seminary in 2013 with a MA in Theological Studies. She enjoys traveling and learning about other cultures. She’s passionate about issues of immigration, hunger, poverty, and human trafficking.

I recently started my third read of Mujerista Theology: A Theology for the Twenty-First Century by the late Ada María Isasi-Díaz. The first time I encountered this awesome book I was doing research for my thesis, and just by reading the first pages I was so impacted. It was a theology book that actually spoke to my experience as a Latina and follower of Christ. Mujerista Theology is a liberative praxis that provides a platform for the voices of grassroots Latinas, the everyday Latina experiences, lo cotidiano.

This is one of those books that every time you read it you learn something new. This time around it feels more like a much needed affirmation of my calling and really for myself. Serving in justice ministries it’s not only rewarding, engaging, a blessing, and many amazing things, but it is also exhausting. Being a woman in ministry is hard, it is demanding, and many times your service and education go unappreciated, and because of your gender you are dismissed. Not to mention the layer of ethnicity and culture. In spaces where one believes it will be safe, encouraging, empowering, and supportive, at times it becomes a hostile, hurtful, and a toxic environment.

The way the late Isasi-Díaz writes makes me feel appreciated and that voice very much counts. She says that,

“When Latinas use the phrase permítame hablar – allow me to speak – we are not merely asking to be taken into consideration. When we use this phrase we are asking for a respectful silence from all those who have the power to set up definitions of what it is to be human, a respectful silence so others can indeed hear our cries denouncing oppression and injustice, so others can understand our vision of a just society. We know that if those with power, within as well outside the Hispanic [any]  communities, do not hear us, they will continue to give no credence to the full humanity of Latinas.”

For me this is the challenge, how can we make safe spaces not only for Latinas, but for women of color, a space where we are appreciated, respected, and valued for our work and ministry. A good example of this is the retreat for women of color that was organized by a group of wonderful women to give a space for those who needed healing, encouragement, and to have the freedom to be themselves. My hope is that the church and Christian organizations do a better job with the treatment of women. We are not going anywhere, we contribute, we lead, and all we want is to be treated with respect and that our gifts and abilities are valued, and used to the fullest.

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Jo Ann Deasy is an ordained Covenant pastor currently serving as the director of institutional initiatives and student research at the Association of Theological Schools in Pittsburgh, PA.

I have almost always been a pioneer. Despite being a fairly anxious person, I have found myself forging new paths in the wilderness since I was 7 years old when I was one of the first girls allowed to play pee wee baseball after Title IX passed. I was one of just a few women to graduate in civil engineering from UC Berkeley. I was the first woman to preach at several churches. I was the first woman named as “dean” at North Park Theological Seminary, even if it was only the dean of students. I have been the first woman people have witnessed lead communion or perform a wedding.

Being the first has a thrill to it. You are often recognized as being “exceptional,” praised for “not being like other women,” invited into leadership positions because there are “so few qualified women.”

But being the first also means being the one who has upset the system and, if you have read any systems theory, you know that upsetting the system is no small thing. When a family, congregation, community, or culture faces challenges to the system, the natural reaction is to try to return to “stasis,” the way things were, even when we know it might be unhealthy or wrong.

We’ve all witnessed it. A church is struggling to survive. There are a few unhealthy congregation members that seem to control everything. A pastor, lay leaders, denominational official tries to bring about change. The pastor gets fired. The lay leader steps down. The congregation starts threatening to leave the denomination. Or, perhaps change does happen, but it only lasts for a short while. The pastor burns out and leaves. Things immediately return to normal.

Perhaps this has happened in your family. Someone in the family has decided to try and break the cycle of abuse or addiction. They go to counseling. Seek help. Everyone praises them for their efforts, but even so, in subtle ways, people begin sabotaging their efforts. It would require too much change, would require everyone else to look at their own issues instead of focusing on the “identified patient.”

In the last decade, we have watched this happening on a national scale. The election of Barack Obama as the first African American president brought hope to many that years of racial prejudice and systemic injustice might be coming to an end. In those first years, such change seemed possible, even despite the racial hatred President Obama and his family faced as they stepped into the White House. Current reality, though, suggests that far from bringing about racial healing in our society, an African American president has simply brought to light many injustices that had been roiling beneath the surface for years. Not only have existing injustices been brought to light, racial violence seems to be on the rise and people seem more free to express racist ideologies.

So, what happens when a woman is running for president? What happens when a woman challenges the system? In a very insightful article in the Atlantic, Peter Beinart highlights the ways sexism has been a factor in this year’s presidential election. To read the article “Fear of a Female President” click here.

Beinart suggests that Hillary Clinton’s candidacy “has provoked a wave of misogyny—one that may roil American life for years to come.” He presents compelling evidence that, despite being a fairly conventional candidate, Hillary has faced opposition that has far exceeded that of similar white male candidates in the past, and her opposition has often been filled with sexist rhetoric. Beinart writes, “Standard commentary about Clinton’s candidacy–… doesn’t explain the intensity of this opposition. But the academic literature about how men respond to women who assume traditionally male roles does. And it is highly disturbing.”

I would highly encourage everyone to read the article and begin looking into the literature being referenced there. Not because I think it will convince you to vote for Hillary… but because the “Hillary effect,” as I’ll call it, impacts all women, especially those who serve in leadership positions.

Women pastors and leaders often face opposition that is full of emotion and, at times, violence that far exceeds the reality of the situation. Stepping into a new leadership role, upsetting the system, can provoke a violent attempt to return to stasis. Even when a woman is stepping into an existing leadership role, her leadership can be met with a surprising amount of emotional and passionate opposition. Like the time I changed when confirmation would meet and ended up in a conflict that required denominational intervention. When such conflict erupts, people often blame it on the woman herself claiming that she is being too emotional, too sensitive, or has blown things out of proportion.

When a woman leader in your congregation is met with resistance or is in the middle of conflict, it is always important to think about how gender might be at play. If the emotion and passion seem out of proportion to the issue, chances are there is something else at play and often that something else is sexism.

One other lesson for us to take away: If Hillary Clinton does become president, we cannot assume it will make things better for women. In fact, if we have learned anything from the Obama presidency, it is the fact that things may actually become worse. And if that is the case, it will be up to us, as the church, to stand alongside the women in our midst, just as we must stand alongside our African American brothers and sisters, to fight the resurgence of prejudice, to resist the attempts to return to the way things were, and to courageously fight for deep and lasting change.

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Megan Herrold is a pastoral intern at Resurrection Covenant Church in Chicago. She is currently pursuing an MA in Christian Formation at North Park Theological Seminary, and is the seminary’s student representative on the ECC Commission on Biblical Gender Equality.

I’ve been thinking a lot about history lately, and the importance of knowing, understanding, and remembering the people and events that have gone before us.

It started last spring when I took a class at North Park seminary on the Old Testament. The class was centered on Genesis-Deuteronomy, and I was struck by the theme of “remember” throughout those books. God tells the Israelites to remember that they were slaves in Egypt and what God did for them there. The phrase “God of your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” is constantly repeated, and I get the impression that God wants to be understood and known in the context of what God has done. And of course, there’s been a lot of talk about denominational history this year as we’ve been celebrating forty years of ordaining women in the Covenant.

Then I went on the Sankofa journey in July. For those who don’t know, Sankofa is an interactive, cross-racial prayer journey that seeks to help people move toward a righteous response to the social ills related to racism. We toured historic sites of racial violence in U.S. history, as well as places where people are working to undo the present-day effects of discrimination and prejudice.

At the end of the trip, all of us were asked to choose a word that described how we were feeling. For me, that word was “re-formed.” The way that I explain this feeling to people is that with this increased knowledge of my country’s history, I feel like I have a greater understanding of what formed the society that formed me—the society in which I grew up.
The vivid image that I still have in my head is of a Megan-shaped puzzle, where some of the pieces don’t quite fit. But with this increased understanding of my history, God has taken out some of the wrong pieces with the right ones. Or in some cases, the right piece was there, but it was upside down or backwards, so God straightened it out a bit. There are still some mixed-up pieces, and there’s still more work to be done, but overall understanding where I came from—even the negative aspects—has made me feel more complete, more whole.

And part of me is surprised that this sense of spiritual wholeness, these overall positive feelings, could come out of witnessing and remembering such negative events. As a white woman, so much of what I hear in discussions of racism (at least from other white people) revolves around the idea that it’s in the past, we’ve moved beyond it, it’s pointless to keep bringing it up.

First, I don’t believe we’ve moved beyond racism. I don’t think it’s just something that was in the past.

Second, even if that were true, my experience on Sankofa is that when we try to forget our negative history, we do ourselves a disservice. We’re denying ourselves access to a part of who we are, in effect denying ourselves a sense of wholeness.

And third, again even if racism were no longer an issue today, that “past” that we talk about was really not that long ago. Maybe a few decades, at most? That means that there are still plenty of people in our midst who are living with painful memories of violence and loss. When we ignore the negative aspects of our history, we do others a disservice, too. We deny them access to the events that formed them.

That’s the tension I find myself in as I celebrate—remember—our denomination’s four decades of ordaining women. Forty years is not that long; really just a couple of generations. There are still people in our midst with painful memories of what it was like for them to pursue God’s call on their lives. And there are still places were women don’t have full access to all ministry opportunities.

I’m relatively new to the Covenant church; it’s three years this week, my own personal anniversary. I don’t know the history of this denomination, and I don’t know the history of this forty-year anniversary that we’re celebrating. All I know is the present. But I’m starting to feel that knowing a present that is not informed by the past isn’t really knowing the present at all.
My hope and goal this year is to learn more about what went into this decision to ordain women, and how women in our denomination found ways to pursue God’s call even in the midst of human-made barriers. I suppose this feels important for me as a woman, but more than that it feels important for me as a Covenanter. This isn’t women’s history; it’s a story of how women have contributed to our denomination’s history.

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Rev. Elizabeth (Liz) Jensen is an ordained Covenant Pastor serving as the solo pastor of the Evangelical Covenant Church of Venice Isle in Venice, FL. She is the treasurer of Advocates for Covenant Clergy Women (ACCW), and the President of the SEC Ministerial Association. She also serves as treasurer and chaplain for the Military Officers Association of America (MOAA) Venice Area Chapter; her husband is a retired Lieutenant Colonel from the Minnesota Army National Guard.

I was on my way to Kansas City to attend Triennial. I had not been since the first one I attended in Portland back in 2004. I was excited. I was glad that my connecting flight from Atlanta to KC was on time; I wanted to be there for opening worship and then take in, or be refreshed by all that was offered.

I had my window seat, this time seated toward the rear of the plane. A young woman was seated next to me. She was tan and slender with long dark hair. She was on her way to visit friends in the KC area. There was a young man seated next to her. They chatted most of the trip and I pretty much read my Covenant Companion from cover to cover, taking a cat-nap every now and then. I devoured the issue celebrating 100 years of Women’s Ministry and the 40th anniversary of the decision to ordain women. It seems we landed shorty after I finished the last article.

As has happened on every flight I have recently taken, when we landed the flight attendant announced that we should remain seated with our seatbelts fastened until the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. When the sign went out, everyone stood up, except folks like me in window seats; not enough headroom for that.

The people in the row in front of me appeared to be grandparents with their 5-year old grandson. Grandpa and grandson stood together. Either Grandpa was holding the young boy or the child was standing on the seat. The child and the woman who had been seated next to me greeted each other. She asked him how old he was. And then Grandpa asked the child, “What do we say to pretty women?”

“Hey, baby!” the child said. Grandpa quickly echoed the child and laughed. The child then repeated the statement several times, much to the delight of Grandpa. I was not so delighted, but I also chose to remain silent. It struck me that this child, at this young age, was being taught to objectify women. In retrospect, perhaps Grandpa was objectifying this woman but doing so through his grandson.

So, this is my rant. Without intervention, this child will think it is perfectly OK to greet certain woman with “Hey Baby!” I will leave to your imagination what else they might be teaching him, be it about greeting women who are not tanned, trim, pretty and young, or seeing women in church leadership, or seeing others who are different, be it in size, shape, color, or ability.

It pains me to think that the normal in this Grandpa’s world will become the normal in his grandson’s world. And I simply ask us to tune up our awareness of what we are subtly and yet surely teaching our children and grandchildren.

We can teach them how to be conversational and cordial without being demeaning. Within our families and among our friends let us begin a campaign to wipe out “Hey baby!” and all such demeaning and objectifying language.

BTW, this incident did not have a negative impact on my experiences at Triennial. Triennial was a marvelous celebration and demonstration of what God has done and continues to accomplish through His daughters. I was blessed and refreshed!

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Ellie VerGowe is currently serving as Ministerial Resident for Community Outreach at First Covenant Church on Capitol Hill in Seattle. Ellie enjoys dancing, being outside and reading a good book on a rainy day with a friend and a cup of tea.

I recently read the story of the woman that Jesus meets at the well in John 4. Jesus is traveling and finally sits down at a well in Samaria in the heat of the day. As he is sitting there, a woman comes to the well to draw water. Her story comes out a bit as Jesus talks with her. She is at the well in the hottest part of the day because of her marital situation. We don’t know the whole story, but she has been through a lot. Maybe other women make fun of her when she draws water in cooler parts of the day and she has decided to go to the well alone.

It is all very scandalous really…she is a ridiculed woman and left out of her community. She, a Samaritan of not “pure” bloodline speaks with a Jewish rabbi alone. And Jesus and this woman converse, she gives him water and he gifts her with the knowledge of his gift of grace and life…of living water.

Jesus explicitly tells her, this scandalous woman, that HE is the one that she and everyone else had been waiting for…the Christ, the Messiah. This woman sees the truth and in her joy runs back to her community to preach the gospel. But then John tells us that she says this in verse 29: “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?”

What? Didn’t Jesus JUST tell her that he was the Messiah? While I don’t know how all the ways internalized patriarchy manifested itself in this ancient context, this woman’s response was a word of challenge for me when I read it most recently. This woman preaches with a question, though she knows the answer full well, and from the mouth of God, no less. I have noticed this pattern within myself and in many female colleagues. When I enter meetings, when I preach, when I speak to my colleagues, I speak with an air of apology and question. I say, “I don’t know if this would work, but…” and “I am still learning, but what if we…” and “I think…” and “I’m sorry…” while most of my male colleagues state their opinions and thoughts with an air of confidence. In their speech there are few questions and little to no apologies.

While I believe that questions and apologies aren’t bad and can sometimes even welcome others into conversation more, many of us women have been socialized to speak without confidence and with apologizing for the space that we take up in the world…as if the world wasn’t desperate for the voices of women preaching the gospel (whether it knows it or not!). The Samaritan woman preached the gospel with questions but God still ushered people to faith through her words. The gospel is still preached in our questions and apologies and fear…but my sisters…we know the truth. We’ve been gifted. We’ve been called. Let us, we who preach while being women (a scandal to so many!), preach without questioning our place to do so and tell the
truth without apology.

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Rev Cathy Kaminski, lead pastor of Trinity Community Church in Cincinnati, OH. She loves coffee, healthy living and people. Each day she strives to be faithful in the small details of life.

I’ve witnessed an epidemic spread throughout the Church and it breaks my heart. The symptoms are easily overlooked. The sickness seems far from terminal, but the effects are so catastrophic it can change the trajectory of an entire ministry and will eventually lead to death. What is this infectious disease? What is so threatening it chokes off life and kills the spirit?

The illness: failing to see why one person’s contribution matters.

Without meaning to we elevate certain roles and functions in the Church. We esteem governmental leadership and vocational ministry. We celebrate the big and overlook the small. In doing so ministry erodes at its core and little by little the impact of the Church lessens. This effects both men and women, of all ages and seasons of life, but sadly, I have seen this cut the hope from my sisters in Christ and I desperately yearn for this lie to be exposed!

“Who am I that God would use me?” We are not the first ones in existence to have doubts about ourselves and feel inadequate. We are definitely not the last. Throughout scripture we see men and women of faith ask this question. Sarah asked. Moses asked. Jeremiah asked. Mary asked. So many people voice this self-doubt. But here is the difference: they brought it to God. Their questions did not stifle their willingness to follow. Even when they did not understand how they could be used or failed to see how they could contribute to God’s work, they went to God. They were willing to trust that the Lord’s perspective was greater than theirs and they followed.

But it’s not just the prophets, matriarchs & patriarchs, the evangelists and pastors this principal applies to…it’s all of us. The crux of the epidemic is not necessarily with those called to leadership or ministry, it’s with the priesthood of believers. The men and women who are vital to the local church. The people who have been called to be a part of the family of God. They are the literal hands and feet of Christ in the world. These are the ones who count themselves out! These are the ones whose faith, service and willingness to follow changes the future of the Church.

We think about the big acts of faith: moving to another country to do mission work, starting a church plant, quitting our jobs to do ministry, etc. But we overlook the small acts. Cleaning up after Sunday’s coffee hour, teaching Sunday school, preparing a meal for new parents, bringing a parishioner to a doctor’s appointment, praying for the church, etc. The collective weight of these Kingdom acts transforms the world!

I think of the maidservant of Naaman’s wife, (2 Kings 5:1-19). She was an Israelite slave girl in captivity. We don’t even know her name. She was not some great leader. She did not do some monumental act. She did not lead armies, heal the sick, or preach to the nations. What did this young Hebrew girl do? She had faith in God and His mighty power. Although she found herself in a foreign land among foreign gods, when her master’s husband fell ill she shared her faith in the Living God. When no one could heal Naaman of his leprosy, this slave girl spoke up and pointed to the prophet Elisha and the God of the Hebrews. Such a small act, with profound consequences. When all the physicians, sorcerers, and false prophets could do nothing for Naaman, this young woman told him about the one true God. Her faith, her boldness, her willingness to share about God ultimately brought about Naaman’s healing and gave glory to the God she loved. How many other unnamed women out there have the potential to be used by God? How many of us are being called to live out our faith, be transparent with our hope and point others towards the God who heals? How many small acts are before us that have greater impact than we could ever fathom?

The sickness that threatens the Church is as simply as overlooking the small acts of faith that God places before us each day! “Who am I that God would use me?” God created you to be loved and to love others! You were knit together in a unique way, called precious and ordained for this time and this place! Apathy could kill the church. But faithfulness in the day to day will be Her hope! Please don’t count yourself out. Please don’t belittle your contribution. Cast light on the lie that you don’t matter! Be faithful in the small things. And allow God to amaze you with the impact.

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Debbie Montzingo teaches Bible at Bellevue Christian School and serves as an itinerant preacher at a variety of Covenant and other churches in western Washington. She awaits permanent call.

I admit I have not always believed that women should be pastors or leaders in the church. In my case, a series of “Wait, what?” moments over the years directed me towards the better way, moments where the practical application of a males-only model just did not quite make sense. Here is one of them.

In my young adult faith, the Bible as a foundation to Christian living and thinking was important to me. I valued “Where is it written?” long before I was a Covenanter. So I agreed with my church on what seemed a plain reading of the Bible: women could serve God, equal in value with men, but not in role. I bought into the glorious vision of the church that women expressed their submission to God by submitting to men: their fathers, their husbands, their elders, their pastors.

The service opportunities for women were primarily confined to women, children, congregational care, and worship. Women could speak from the pulpit to give a missions trip report and the like, but never to preach. It sounds more restrictive than it actually felt; it was not a primary doctrine or issue there, but it did affect many areas of ministry.

I had taken the Perspectives on the World Christian Movement class, which is an excellent resource for understanding worldwide missions from biblical, historical, cultural, and strategic perspectives, taught in church consortiums and Bible colleges all around the world. Eventually I trained to coordinate classes. In the process, I met a young woman who served as a speaker with an agency that gathered and shared information with churches about unreached people groups. She was dynamic and knowledgeable, a true advocate for world mission. She was also pragmatic.

In conversation one day, she talked about the times she had spoken at churches that did not affirm women in preaching or leadership. With a shrug, she said, “Usually they will let me speak as long as I promise not to speak from Scripture.”

Wait, what?

I have never attended a church, whatever their view of women in ministry, that did not want women to study and learn from the Bible, to be informed by biblical preaching, to read books that brought them into deeper understanding of God’s Word, to have their lives shaped by biblical truth, to know the Savior revealed in its pages, to reflect his character in their choices, to aspire to the gospel that Jesus preached. If the church is educating its women well, how do we then not speak from Scripture when talking about world mission? How do we not speak from Scripture when talking about how to raise children or serve the poor or teach Sunday School or live our lives, when Scripture has been so appropriately instrumental in making us who we are?

Are they asking us to compartmentalize our lives so that the Bible box is over there and our experience box is over here? Are they saying that there is a truth that is not God’s truth? Are they saying that it is more biblical to speak non-biblical truth because we are women? Are they saying that less Scripture is better than more Scripture if it is spoken by a woman?

Does. Not. Compute.

I love God, and I know that he loves me. I have lived my life trying to do and to be all that God has created me to do and to be—in other words, to obey. Every time I have tried to live by any other standard, I have been miserable. I realize that sometimes God asks us to do things we do not always understand or that are difficult and painful. I get that his ways are not our ways.

But although God is above human reason, he is not unreasonable or capricious. I am pretty sure he does not ask me to separate myself into pieces so I do not accidentally violate a gender divide when I open my mouth. I do not believe that God is pleased by the hairs we split to maintain an unmaintainable position. So either we need to keep women from speaking at church whenever men are around to prevent us from accidentally communicating Scriptural truth, or we need to re-think the whole idea. Is it possible we have missed the point, even as we have tried to obey?

Years after the conversation with this young woman speaker, its influence remained in my mind. I finally decided to go to seminary after a year-long discernment process because I realized that writing and speaking about biblical truth brought me great joy. Every time I had an opportunity to write or speak, biblical truth naturally enriched the content. My readers and listeners seemed to receive what I offered, often in life-changing ways. Twice after speaking at school events, others said to me, “You have missed your calling. You should be a preacher.” Before I had even entertained the possibility, those around me were pointing me in the direction of God’s call, although it took many years for the circumstances of my life to allow me to hear that call clearly.

The church has done its rightful job in me. And now I believe it is time for the church to let me and my sisters do ours—as God has gifted and called us.

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Brian Wiele is Lead Pastor at River Ridge Covenant Church in Olympia, Washington, and serves as Chair of the Commission for Biblical Gender Equality for the Evangelical Covenant Church, which exists to equip the church to articulate the truth about Biblical equality regarding gender; and to advocate for women in ministry and leadership in all possible venues within the church. 

Last week I had the honor of joining eight-hundred-fifty women for Triennial, the outstanding conference for ECC Women Ministries. As one of the two dozen or so men attending, my presence created a light-hearted cognitive dissonance, like seeing a giraffe standing among a group of swans. At six foot three, towering over the fifteen women in the hotel elevator, I was once again politely asked the question: “What brings you to Triennial?”

Thinking is good. It’s natural and healthy to attempt to resolve conflicting thoughts in one’s mind. “One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong.” What’s up with that?

My official reason for attending was to co-lead with Pastor Abby Jones a workshop on the Develop a Deborah initiative. (You can learn more here). A small (two dozen) but lively and responsive group of women attended. The low turnout can partly be attributed to the fact that our seminar was added to the slate of workshops after many people had already registered. Realistically however, the topic of women in ministry is not necessarily the primary thought on the minds of many people.

Because of my role serving on the Commission on Biblical Gender Equality I was also invited to attend a breakfast for women clergy, at which the fortieth anniversary of the ordination of women in the ECC was celebrated. Near the end of the meeting, I was given the opportunity to briefly share about our commission’s hope for Develop a Deborah – that many local congregations would identify and encourage girls and women who have leadership gifts.

I told them that I could trace back my role on the commission and even my participation at Triennial back to cognitive dissonance, specifically the effect one woman had on the collective mind of our congregation. In 2007-8, Kirsten Kronberg Burdick was the first woman to serve our congregation for a year as a North Park Seminary pastoral intern.

No one could deny that the Holy Spirit was powerfully present and active in her ministry among us, especially as the year progressed. This had an unshakeable impact upon those in our fellowship who were not comfortable with the idea of women in ministry. Kirsten’s presence and pastoral gifts caused people to attempt to resolve the conflict in their minds – God was blessing them and speaking to them, but it was through a woman. Hmmm, what does that mean?

Thinking is good, but it’s not always comfortable or easy, which is why it’s often avoided or discouraged. An ordered and predictable life is much preferred; uncertainty can just make us grouchy. When someone rearranges the cupboards at home or the aisles at our favorite store, it causes an existential vertigo. If my long-held convictions are shown to be suspect, that means I might also have to examine other areas of my theology, so I’d rather not think about it.

Jesus made people think, which sometimes also made people mad. Parables without a moral application – what does it mean? Why is he talking to that woman? God desires to stir up the placid waters of our minds: When you did these things and I kept silent, you thought I was exactly like you. But I now arraign you and set my accusations before you. (Psalm 50:21 NIV).

The Commission on Biblical Gender Equality is attempting to distill the Develop a Deborah initiative into one simple question: who is the girl or woman in your ministry context who follows hard after God? Whose obvious giftedness will subsequently stir up a healthy debate in the minds of those who like to keep God in a neat little box?

Yes, thinking is good. But may we never settle for thoughts that limit God or that lull us into a comfortable slumber. The people of your congregation may not want to think about women in ministry, but it’s vitally important that their minds be engaged on the subject. Our apathy can have the effect of stifling or discouraging that one person from living into the call of God on her life. I can’t imagine God would be pleased with that kind of thinking.

For the sake of the Kingdom, Develop that Deborah among you.

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