Abby Jones is the pastor of the Covenant Church in Stromsburg, NE. Abby is an advocate for women in leadership, a mom of four girls, and you can read more of her writing at: sustainabletheology.com.

My mom likes to tell me a story about a cold November night when her and my dad threw on their tennis shoes, bundled up in their coats and walked four miles. After the walk, they changed into their pajamas and played Yahtzee. They filled up an entire score card that night, crawling into bed well after midnight. The next morning she woke up in labor and I was born just before lunch.

I do the same thing with my girls, every year I tell them about the events leading up to their birth. It’s always a little embellished, censored, and very polished. Our big stories, the ones we tell often, usually are. We do the same thing at Christmas with the birth story of Jesus, don’t we?

When I think about the story my mom tells, I have to take my dad’s version into consideration when piecing together the events of that night. We do the same thing with Jesus, piecing a few versions together so that we can have enough parts for the kids to play at the Christmas pageant. All the while, skipping over those not so G-Rated details.

Keep your ears open this weekend as Matthew and Luke are blended together, and characters are revealed. Listen for prostitution, foreigners, and scandal. In the beginning of Matthew’s story is the genealogy of Jesus, and in that genealogy five women are listed.

Tamar was a Canaanite woman, married to Judah’s oldest son, Er. Er was evil, so God killed him. Tamar became a widow, and her only hope was for Er’s next oldest brother, Onan to marry her. But Onan refused, so God killed him too. Judah only had one son left, and said that he was too young to marry.

One afternoon, Tamar dressed herself as a prostitute, covered her face and waited by the road for Judah. When he saw her, he thought she was a prostitute, and slept with her. Tamar became pregnant and Judah demanded she be killed for adultery, but she had proof that Judah was the man that slept with her. She gave birth to twins who were recognized as Judah’s sons, the oldest of the twins was Perez in the line of David. (Genesis 38)

Rahab was also a Canaanite woman, living in Jericho when the Israelite spies arrived to survey the land. Rehab was the mother of Boaz. (Joshua 2)

Boaz married Ruth, a Moabite woman who was both barren and widowed. After her first husband died, she went with her mother-in-law to live in Israel. Three generations later, David was born from her lineage. (Ruth)

David became King, and one night was having trouble sleeping. He went out to walk around his roof, when he saw Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba, bathing. She was very beautiful, and he sent a messenger to bring her to the palace. She slept with him, and became pregnant. David sent her husband to the front lines, and Solomon was born to David and Bathsheba. (2 Samuel 11)

And of course, there’s Mary. The poor, young, Jewish girl. The mother whose story we’ve also cinched up. We leave out the details about labor and delivery, keeping the story pretty sterile. One minute Mary is pregnant, the next she’s holding a perfectly swaddled and sleeping baby. We skip everything in-between, and miss some very important details. (Luke 1-2)

We miss the part about it being messy, and painful, and difficult. While it has it’s beauty, it’s also very frightening. It’s such a fragile moment, and every one of us have entered the world this way. Through birth we come, breathing our first breath at the expense of a woman’s pain and sacrifice.

And that’s the way that God chose to enter our world. God chose to enter the world through birth, delivered by the body of a woman, so that all of creation might be redeemed. God put on skin and entered the world the same way we all do. Through our very messy, painful, intimate process, we have the incarnation. God with us.

God chose a lineage littered with prostitutes, foreigners, and scandal to show us that there’s enough room in the family for everyone. God chose to come as a vulnerable, helpless baby, in order to show us what it means to be human. The parts of the birth story we skip over, show us that there is nothing too messy, too broken, or too dark that God won’t enter into in order to set us free.

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

There’s an African proverb about history that I like. I’ve heard a few different versions, but my favorite is from the late Nigerian author Chinua Achebe: “Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

In other words, history is written by the winners.

It’s something that always comes to mind around big U.S. national holidays like Thanksgiving or the Fourth of July. These holidays are centered on epic stories of a nation, but what parts, what voices of those stories are left out of our contemporary retellings?

This time, however, I’m thinking about it at the end of my internship, where I had my first major experience with children’s ministry. It’s got me reflecting on my own experience as a child in church, and on the Bible stories I learned and didn’t learn as a kid. And not just the stories, but how I think about God (my theology) because of those stories.

Why did I learn about Delilah and not Deborah? Why did I learn that Sarah laughed when told she would have a son and was chided for her lack of faith, but I never learned the stories of Abraham succumbing to fears and or having incomplete trust in God? And what did I learn through these stories about men and women as reflections of the image of God?

I suppose it’s clear through these questions that I think that whatever I learned, it was incomplete. I grew up in a Lutheran church, so a lot of the theology I learned in my confirmation class was based on the teachings of Martin Luther. In my denomination’s history, Luther’s ideas and arguments were the correct ones; he was the “winner” whose version of things was passed on through the generations. I’m not saying that’s necessarily bad, just that I think I probably missed some things.

The point is that not all Christians throughout the ages have had equal access to education. Not all of us have been garnered equal respect for our thoughts and ideas. The story of God that has been handed down to us is the one that came from people who were considered respectable, who were considered worth listening to, according to whatever social standards of their time.

I recently finished a biography on Katharine Bushnell, who was a Christian activist and theologian who had a global impact in the late 19th/early 20th centuries, but she was largely dismissed later in her life because her ideas and strategies were no longer popular. But I’m so glad I was able to find her story and learn from her experience and perspective. I feel like I was missing an important piece of church history that she represents.

So how do we access the stories and ideas that have been overlooked? How do we fill in the gaps in this story?

I’ve seen a couple of different ways to try to teach more complete theology. One is to simply start teaching new perspectives, especially those that have previously been discredited or ignored. Create a class on Liberation Theology or African Christianity. At North Park seminary, there’s a popular course titled Women, the Bible, and the Church. I’ve seen syllabi for courses that have all the traditionally taught elements of Christian history or worship, but then have specific classes devoted to what was happening or developed in other parts of the world.

However, I’ve also had courses where different perspectives are more thoroughly integrated throughout the entire semester, rather than having specific courses or classes devoted to one idea. The main textbooks are more comprehensive in presenting different perspectives, and the supplemental readings each week rotate between authors from a variety of different backgrounds. There’s an Intercultural Readings course next semester that I wish I could fit into my degree plan, and from what I’ve seen of the syllabus, it looks like it leans more towards this method of presenting diverse ideas.

It’s this second, more integrative method that I personally prefer.

I’m not writing this to say there isn’t a place for courses like Women, the Bible, and the Church. I’ve never taken the class, so I wouldn’t feel comfortable saying that anyway. And I know it’s pretty popular and students—women and men—seem to appreciate what they learn there. What I mean is that there’s a reason I’ve never considered signing up for the course, or any like it: I’m not interested in learning about women as a special subset of church leaders, or Biblical characters, or Christians in general.

A few years ago, the church I was attending at the time had a sermon series on major characters from the Bible and what we could learn from their stories. A friend of mine mentioned at one point that she would love to hear a series on women in the Bible. I replied that I would rather have more women’s stories folded into the series we were already doing. (The series had featured only men up until that point. In fact, it may have ended up being exclusively male characters, but I feel like there was at least one woman. Maybe Esther was added in at the end?)

I had similar thoughts when I was in Washington, DC, in Spring 2015, when the National Museum of African American History and Culture was still under construction. One of the other students in the group I was with commented that it was about time that such a museum opened. And I agreed it was disappointing that it took so long for this aspect of our national history and culture to gain this level of recognition. (Apparently the idea for such a museum was first proposed in 1915, more than a century before it opened.) But I also said that what I would really like to see is more integration of all cultures in our nation into national museums that already exist, like the American History museum.

Of course, this integration has its own drawbacks. It could lead to appropriation. And I admit, there’s something about giving historically marginalized people or cultures or groups their own space that seems to do more to make up for past lack of respect.

I suppose for me the answer is to try to pursue some of both strategies. After all, the only really wrong way for me to try to make up for what I’ve missed would be to do nothing at all.

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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 singing at the top of her lungs, being
outside and is already ready for a dance party.

I’ve been thinking of Mary and Martha recently. They’re relatable women…and we don’t always
get to hear a lot about women in our scriptures. Sadly, I sometimes find this story co-opted to
shame Martha for her actions in NOT sitting at Jesus’ feet. However, I think there is more
happening in the text. Luke 10:38-42 says:

“Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named
Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the
Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many
tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me
to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her,
“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only
one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’”

I think it is easy to forget that Martha was doing exactly what everyone in her day was expecting
her to do. She was probably preparing a necessary meal for Jesus and his disciples as Jesus
taught at her house. She was being hospitable. She was being welcoming. She was providing a
safe and restful place for her friends. And…it was understandable that she would want a little
help doing these things!

Mary, on the other hand, breaks all gender norms and takes the place that would be reserved
only for a male disciple…she sits down at the teacher’s feet and listens to him to learn. This is
wildly inappropriate for that time.

Mary was rebuked by her sister and was probably glared at by the male disciples. Churches
today often shame Martha for her lack of focus on her Savior and complaining, anxious heart.
But Jesus…Jesus defends the one being shamed. And he gently speaks with Martha as well.
Jesus doesn’t seem to shame Martha for what she is doing…only tells her that focus on himself
is the better thing. Perhaps Martha was distracted and not centered on Jesus as she was
preparing the meal, for Jesus says that Mary chose “the better option.” But Jesus doesn’t tell
her to stop working, does he (hopefully he sent one of the disciples into help after this
conversation!)? Perhaps Jesus knows Martha’s calling and pushes her to see God’s love for her
in that work too, just as Mary did as she sat at the teacher’s feet.

If only life were like that.

Being a woman can be hard enough without getting shamed for how we serve Jesus. Some of
us are pastors. Some of us are mothers. Some of us are CEOs. We are chefs, janitors, artists,
teachers, social workers, mathematicians, dog-walkers, students, doctors, business owners and
a whole host of other things that God has created us to be for this season or longer. We can sit
at Jesus’ feet while we work at all these things. But while we espouse liberation for women and
say that anyone can serve God in the ways she is created to, called to and wants to, we
sometimes don’t act like it. We women sometimes shame even each other! Career women
shame women who are stay at home mothers and say that “they aren’t true feminists.” Stay at
home mothers shame a woman who works full time because she “isn’t doing what God created
a woman to do.”

This is wrong! We women need each other! We can sit at Jesus’s feet as we live our diverse
array of life experiences. When a woman among us is struggling, let us lift her up in
encouragement. When a woman among us is failing, let us surround her and fight for her instead
of shame her and work for her demise. When a woman among us is being celebrated, let us
bring the cake and the streamers and not compare ourselves and our own accomplishments.
Let us encourage each other to serve and love God in whatever season we are in or path life
takes. Let us tell each other the truth because we want the best for each other. Let us love our
sisters like we wish we were loved. Let us trust that we are each struggling and working to listen
to God with our whole hearts.

*Artwork by Dr. He Qi titled “Martha and Mary.”

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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 singing at the top of her lungs, being outside and reading a good book on a rainy day with a friend and a cup of tea.

In the weeks following the election I have felt a sinking feeling in my heart…a feeling that I wish weren’t so familiar.

My heart sinks to a familiar place when I hear that so many of my white evangelical sisters and brothers voted for our president-elect. While I love the church I serve (and oh do I love this church I call home!) and I find it to be a place that is working hard to value and respect women in every way, I have found various Christian spaces to be places where myself, my body, mind and thoughts are not fully welcomed in the female form they are in. My body and clothes are commented on and prioritized over the words of my sermons over the years. My marital status causes some to question my ability to serve in a church because some subconsciously believe my worth and what I can offer the world is defined by my relation to a man.

My heart sinks to its familiar place because I have experienced a lot of harassment on my way to work and to school throughout my life. It has little to do with the way I look and much more to do with my gender…I could wear a snowsuit covering my entire body and be catcalled (this has happened). I have been yelled at, grabbed, followed home and my only thought in those moments is to get to my destination safely, no matter the inner revulsion I feel at having to ignore the men who harass me. I want to defend myself and speak truth, but sometimes I must keep the peace to keep my life. I am certainly not alone in these stories…every woman I know has stories, and most of them are more painful than my own.

These are only a few difficult examples of what it means to be a woman in American society… and I while I had hope for a woman president, I wasn’t surprised that it has not yet come to pass. When a woman is grabbed and harassed even in places of worship, I knew a woman couldn’t be trusted by the powerful to lead this country. Even a wealthy, white woman like Hillary Clinton is too subversive and threatening to the powers that be.

We have a new president-elect that causes many women in our churches to feel afraid and even more inferior they they did before. So, my dear brothers and sisters…my friends in the Church (regardless of who you may have voted for)…what does God call us to do when someone in our midst feels alone and afraid? What does scripture tell us to do when one member of the body mourns? What do we do when we see injustice?

We need all people in the body of Christ to do justice for those in our midst who identify as women and girls. Perhaps your church could work to develop young women leaders in your congregation. You can find hymns and songs to sing in worship of our Creator that use inclusive language. You can make sure women around you are heard and you can refuse to interrupt them whose voices have been suppressed. You can call out harassment when you see it and make sure no man in your life ever catcalls a woman. You can listen to women’s experiences and refuse to blame them for the ways they experience sexism. You can read articles by women and seek to learn from their words, even if at first they don’t make sense to you because your story is different.

This may be a post on a blog on Biblical gender equality, but we have a lot more than gender to talk about too. White women like myself are threatened far less by our president-elect than many women of color are…or many immigrants…or many Muslims. I cannot speak for others, but I believe that the present and future witness of the Church depends on how we respond to the current climate through our treatment and valuing of all people created in God’s image, be they women, people of color, Muslims, people in the LGBTQ community, disabled persons, or any other vulnerable populations who have been targeted. This must be our priority. Our (mainly white) brothers and sisters…or perhaps we ourselves…voted unabashedly to elect a man who chooses white supremacists to work in his office, calls entire groups of people rapists, assaults women and openly mocks disabled people on national TV…to name only a few things we’ve all seen and heard. We cannot normalize this hateful behavior (before or after the election). The world knows Christians are called to love and work for justice and mercy. Let us not disappoint again and turn our faces away as this man’s administration continues to harass people and allows followers to do the same.

Please. Don’t let us down. Church: let’s do this together. Our hearts are crying out for it. May our witness be just, courageous, true and always full of love.

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Rev. Jan Bros is the planting pastor of Abbey Way Covenant Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota. She serves on the Executive Board of the Northwest Conference and the Commission on Biblical Gender Equality. She is the proud grandma of seven grandchildren.

These past few months our congregation has been studying the psalms as a shaping source for our life in God. One of the things we have learned together as we have looked at various psalms is that we can bring anything–any concern, any emotion–in our vulnerability to God. This idea preaches well but is not always easy to put it into practice.

I have been challenged by the application of the psalmist’s example both in my personal life as well in response to national events of late. I have been forced to grapple with what it really means to bring my entire self to God when things are not going the way I thought and my emotions feel anything but “nice.” Am I willing to bring all me before God?

Sometimes when life seems uncomfortable or uncontrollable it is easier for me to talk to my spouse or friend then talk to God.

Equally problematic is my own forgetfulness to be thankful when life is good. I can count myself with the nine lepers in the New Testament who when healed didn’t express their gratefulness to Jesus.

But God wants us to come to Him–happy or sad.

But do I?

Do I readily go to God as my “first tell” to say what is on my heart? Do I just get on with life when I have no complaints or big needs not stopping to notice until I hit a bump in the road or take a wrong path? Or do I believe God will hear me when I cry out and my heart hurts and my doubts loom large? Or do I think I need to pretty my words up before I can speak? When life is easy or when it is hard, turning to God is an essential action of a vibrant spiritual life not just a theological premise or principle.

I want to want this kind of bold prayer life prayed by the psalmist. I want to want this sort of vulnerability with the Lord of the universe.

I think the same dynamics can be true in my pastoral leadership. As a female pastor, I sometimes want to appear stronger than I truly am. When given the opportunity, I don’t always speak up and bring myself forward because it feels too risky. I can fear others will take advantage of or find fault with me if I speak with passion or conviction about what I am grappling with in my own heart especially when it involves uncertainty or doubt. I can equally forsake to notice and name when life is good, missing to bring the powerful gift of affirmation and gratitude to those around me, instead choosing to be seen as efficient and productive.

Good peers are of great help to me here. They encourage me to bring my true self into view as scary as that can sometimes be. They can also help me stop and notice those around me.

As in prayer, I am always learning.

The psalms can teach us much about vulnerability before God. In turn, they teach us about being open with each other. May we be emboldened to pray and live in open vulnerability.

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Mandi Cherico is co-pastor of Sojourner Covenant Church in Evanston, Ill. Born on the East Coast and raised in the Midwest, she is passionate about safe spaces, beauty, the Bible and Beyonce.

Last Tuesday was bigger than politics. It was bigger than a victory for the Republicans or a defeat for the Democrats. Last Tuesday, a national message was sent to women, people of color, people with disabilities, immigrants, Mexicans, the LGBTQ community, muslims and every other group who has been insulted and threatened by the president-elect and his supporters. The message? You don’t matter. Marginalized groups stand to lose the most after last Tuesday. Make no mistake.

The president-elect did not invent modern sexism. Long before the tweets were published or the audio was leaked women were getting grabbed and interrupted and insulted by men. That’s unfortunately not new. What was so disheartening and frankly terrifying about last week was that a renowned practitioner of misogyny not only got away with it (this, too, happens all the time), but that half the country knew this and still handed him the world.

81 percent of white Evangelicals voted for the president-elect. That means most Covenanters. That means some people who are reading this. This was predictable. Since 1980, you’d be hard pressed to find a white Evangelical who would vote democrat, mainly because of the church’s deep connection to the ‘pro-life’ movement. Historically, white Evangelicals have always rejected the leadership of anyone who is not a white heterosexual male, so again, it’s not surprising that Hillary Clinton wasn’t a favorite.

It’s not surprising that most white men voted the way they did last Tuesday. It’s not surprising that most white Evangelicals voted how they did last Tuesday. However, there is one piece of data I can’t get out of my head: according to CNN exit polls, 53 percent of white women voted for the president-elect.

For this I grieve. For this I confess my role in not engaging more with my white sisters during this political process. White women saw or heard the sexist actions and words of the president-elect. They likely heard the Access Hollywood tape. They knew about the heinous online bullying. They saw his blatant disrespect of Hillary Clinton during the debates, during his own campaign appearances, in interviews. They saw all this and they still thought this man was worthy of the highest office in the land.

Somehow, white women found a way to differentiate ourselves from the women the president-elect has insulted or assaulted. We believed the fantastic stories of “it’s not that bad” and “it would never happen to me” – old lies propped up by the shaky scaffolding of lowered expectations and heightened class differences. Perhaps 8 years of an administration that at least projected a high regard for women has made us forget just how susceptible we are.

When the president-elect signs off on the assault of women, none of us are safe. The fact that white women couldn’t recognize this scares me more than any other statistic because it means that misogyny is stronger than I thought. It infects women more than I thought. I bemoaned this with some women pastors last week. The words of my classmate Baily Warman keep ringing in my head: “We can’t even show up for ourselves.”

This is why I grieve, and why the results of this election have me doubling down on my efforts to empower, partner with and educate women who look like me, not just for their sake but for the sake of the world. Because white women have relative power and privilege. We have the responsibility to use this power for the good of ourselves and other marginalized groups, as God calls. Make no mistake: no one will fight this battle for us. The Oppressor prowls around like a lion and tempts us to sell out for false morality and male acceptance. We are in the fight, whether we like it or not. All we get to choose is which side we’re on.

White women: if we want Biblical equality, if we want to see justice in this land, if we care about people on the margins of society, we have to participate in the work of the liberating Gospel. We have to take it personally. We have to practice ruthless respect of the divine image we and others bear.

We must learn to show up for ourselves.

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Carol Lawson is the Director of Ministry Services for the Department of Ordered Ministry, Develop Leaders for the Evangelical Covenant Church and an advisory member of the Commission on Biblical Gender Equality.

The 40th anniversary of the decision to affirm ordination for women has been recognized and celebrated during 2016. The early years following that significant vote at the 1976 Covenant Annual meeting were marked by frustration and disappointment as women following their call into ministry struggled to find places to serve. We lament the loss of some of our female colleagues who ended up leaving our denomination to live out their call in other ministry settings.

The trajectory has changed since then. The approval of the Biblical Gender Equality Commission by the Covenant Annual Meeting in 2002 provided funding and a system to produce resource materials to educate our denominational body on this important topic. The number of women serving as solo pastors, as co-pastors, and in staff positions has grown significantly even since the 30th anniversary in 2006. We celebrate that good news!

However, the Commission realizes continued advocacy is necessary to move forward to fully embrace that all God’s people are equally called and gifted. Women have stories to tell of ways they have been encouraged, discipled and given opportunities to develop their leadership skills. And we all need to be challenged to look for girls and women in our congregations or ministry settings who are waiting for someone to ask them to consider ministry as a vocation. We desire a future when women serving as pastors in a variety of congregations is normative and natural.

To that end, Project Deborah, a Leadership Initiative of the Biblical Gender Equality Commission, draws on the Biblical text of Deborah the prophet, a leader to whom the Israelites went to have their disputes settled and from whom they heard the Word of the Lord. Project Deborah invites us to listen to Deborah stories of our clergy women who have been mentored and encouraged in their call to ministry to use their gifts as Deborah did. Project Deborah asks churches to provide places for women to serve as leaders, as teachers and as pastors, demonstrating that God gifts women for all facets of ministry. Project Deborah challenges male clergy to be advocates for their female colleagues, speaking for them when injustice arises. Project Deborah seeks to move us closer as a denomination to a place where all God’s people are equally called and gifted and women are directed into opportunities to lead.

Look for stories on this blog from clergy women who describe ways they have been developed as a Deborah. And hear from a few of our female colleagues at Midwinter who affirm “I am a Deborah.”

Whenever the Lord raised up a judge for them, he was with the judge. Now Deborah, a prophet, the wife of Lappidoth, was leading Israel at that time. (Judges 2:18, 4:4)

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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’m not sure, but I might be a beneficiary of affirmative action.

Last spring I was awarded an internship stipend from the ECC to help me meet the field education requirements for my degree program at North Park seminary. I knew about this grant opportunity, knew there was money available, and was repeatedly encouraged to apply for it, but I was still hesitant to do so. Why? Because the grant was for women in ministry, and I felt strange asking for—or accepting—extra “help” because I’m a woman.

The weird thing is, I don’t have a problem with affirmative-action programs in general. (And I’m not saying that this grant is one.) I know people sometimes think of them as giving new unfair advantages to certain groups, but I’ve always understood them as an effort to counteract unfair disadvantages that already exist in our society. I still go back to this quote from Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., written more than 50 years ago:

The nation must not only radically readjust its attitude toward the Negro in the compelling present, but must incorporate in its planning some compensatory consideration for the handicaps he [or she] has inherited from the past. It is impossible to create a formula for the future which does not take into account that our society has been doing something special against the Negro for hundreds of years. How then can he [or she] be absorbed into the mainstream of American life if we do not do something special for [her or] him now, in order to balance the equation and equip him [or her] to compete on a just and equal basis?

So yes, I believe work should be done to dismantle structural disadvantages and yes, I believe there are unfair disadvantages experienced by women pursuing a call to ministry. So I completely support the idea behind setting aside a grant or other funds to help women (or anyone else who faces extra obstacles) pursue their call.

There’s a young woman in a church I used to attend where I knew her as a teenager. Moving from urban Chicago to the rural Midwest for college was the first time she experienced significant, blatant racial discrimination. She eventually ended up transferring for many reasons, but racism was definitely one of them. Knowing that there are places in this country where college students of color aren’t fully welcome or don’t feel safe is pretty much all the justification I need for the fewer universities that are more welcoming to allow affirmative action to influence their acceptance policies.

Similarly, in one of my first meetings with an internship advisor where I mentioned possibly wanting to do an internship in the southern U.S., I was explicitly told that there are churches in that area to which he tries not to send women because women in those places won’t receive as much encouragement in their call. So just as in the last story, knowing that women aren’t welcome as ministers in all churches in our denomination is, in my mind, justification for financial resources that help women find an internship in the fewer places where they are welcome to serve.

But it still feels weird for me to accept help. And it definitely feels weird to accept something I feel like I didn’t do anything to earn. Which contradicts one of the ideas I often hear about affirmative action, this idea that some people are just looking for any advantage they can get, or just want special treatment. I’ve honestly never understand this perspective. To accept extra assistance because you’re part of a disadvantaged group means acknowledging that circumstances are stacked against you. Who would want to think about their life that way? I know I wouldn’t.

I recently finished reading The Fire This Time, a collection of essays about race and racism in the U.S. One of the essay writers, Rachel Kaadzi Ghansah, shared some of her feelings about being “the first black intern” at a magazine that was more than 150 years old at the time of her internship in 2005:

I became paranoid that I was merely a product of affirmative action, even though I knew I wasn’t. I had completed my application not once but twice and never did I mention my race. Still, I never felt like I was actually good enough. And with my family and friends so proud of me, I felt like I could not burst their bubble with my insecurity and trepidation.

I don’t think anyone wants to believe that these kinds of assistance programs are necessary. Not even those who might benefit from them.

Here’s where I want to have some concluding thoughts, a nice summary to wrap up all this conflict. But the truth is that I’m still conflicted. I haven’t yet figured out what I think or feel about this. Am I at a disadvantage as a woman in ministry? Am I justified in accepting assistance? Once I accept it, is it fair that I feel extra pressure to work harder, more, better, in order to earn it, to prove that I’m worthy of help? How does it affect me as a pastor to face all of these questions in the midst of ministry?

These are the thoughts I’ve been wrestling with the last few months as I think about this fortieth anniversary of ordaining women in the ECC and what it means for me to be a pastor today. This is the legacy I’ve inherited. How do I accept it, and what do I do with it?

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Abby Jones is the pastor of the Evangelical Covenant Church in Stromsburg, NE. She earned an MDiv from North Park Theological Seminary in 2012. Abby is mom to Stella, Lucy, Mabel and Harper. Read more of Abby’s writing at sustainabletheology.com.

The Israelites had a pattern of “sin, judgement, repentance and rescue.” Over and over again. They wandered away from God, they ended up oppressed under a foreign ruler, and then they would repent and God would rescue them, and then they’d fall right back into the same pattern as before.

One of the times that the Israelites did evil in the eyes of God, they lived cruelly oppressed for 20 years under the Canaanites. (Read Judges 4 & 5.) Their villages had no walls, which left them vulnerable to oppressors, who would even come and eat the crops out of their fields. It became too dangerous to travel the main roads, which is where trade happened, which made it difficult to buy and sell goods.

The Israelites had no weapons. No shield or spears. The Canaanites had 900 chariots and iron. Their weapons were intimidating. There was no way for the Israelites to challenge the chariots on foot without being completely desecrated. The villagers had no fight in them.

They had no hope.

They knew if they fought, they would die.

The Canaanites arrived at the city gates, and the Israelites were ready to be taken. They were ready for destruction. War came to the city gates up north, and Deborah was down in the hill country of Ephraim.

Deborah was a prophet, the wife of Lappidoth and she was leading Israel at this time. Lappidoth is Hebrew for “fire” so it could be translated that Deborah was a woman from Lappidoth, wife of Lappidoth or a fiery woman. Whichever it is translated, there’s no denying that Deborah was a woman. When writing about a strong woman, there was a risk that she would be turned into a man in the retelling of history, so the writer went to great lengths to make it clear that Deborah was in fact a woman.

Deborah held court under a palm tree there, where she brought justice to her people. Don’t overlook the importance of the tree! Trees are a symbol of fairness, so we know right away that Deborah is a fair judge.

Now remember, this is a time that the Israelites were doing evil.

Deborah was the one in charge of bringing justice. Justice to her fallen nation. In Judges 2:12 it explains, “they followed and worshiped various gods of the people around them. They aroused the Lord’s anger.”

We can only imagine how difficult Deborah’s job as judge must have been. But she remained fair and just. She did not waiver. She was a strong and courageous leader to an evil nation.

She was also a prophet, following in a line of female prophets. Miriam, Huldah, Noadiah are named in the OT. Anna and Philip’s daughters in the book of Acts.

It wouldn’t have been easy to be a prophet to a disobedient nation. The job of a prophet was to speak out against evil and injustice, to warn the people to turn back to God. Deborah would have been responsible to call out the sin of her people, and foretell the coming destruction.

We also cannot overlook Deborah’s name. Names were significant, a person’s name told about who they were, and Deborah means “honey bee”. In the ancient world a honey bee bridged the natural world to the underworld. The mortal world with the immortal world. It’s no coincidence that this just judge and prophet was named Deborah. She spoke with God, and challenged people with God’s words. She bridged the natural world and the divine.

This bi-vocational woman was doing difficult work. Not one of her jobs was easy. All the while, she was trying to lead a nation that had no fight left in them. They were done. They were ready to give up. To be conquered.

And yet, she arose as a leader, as a mother in Israel. Leaders are often seen as strategic and commanding, so I love that Deborah tells us in her song, that she is a mother in Israel. She cared for her people in the way that a mother cares for her children. She’s rising up like a mother bear to protect her helpless young. She’s filled with empathy for the princes and the volunteers. She says that her heart is with them.

Somehow, Deborah found a way to motivate and inspire her people, she gave them hope that something new was possible. And she began to appoint the next generation of leaders.

So often we are stuck in the same patterns, the same rhythms day in and day out, looking to the same people to lead, that it’s hard to imagine something new, something different. Someone different. But God is always working new ways, God is always moving us forward.

God was ready to do something new for Israel, God was ready to restore the nation, but the people weren’t receptive. Somehow, Deborah found a way to inspire and rally the people around a new vision.

 She took charge of the military. God worked through her to develop a strategy to defeat the Canaanites, and she told Barack to take 10,000 men from Naphtali and Zebulun, to lead them to Mount Tabor, and there in that place God would give the Canaanites into the Israelite’s hands.

Deborah handed Barack the plan.

And Barack knew Deborah was strong; he knew that there was no way he could go without her. He wanted her by his side. Deborah told him because of this, the victory would be that of a woman’s.

Deborah gave the commanding order, the military went into battle as soon as she said, “Go!”

Barack pushed the chariots.

All of the troops fell by the sword.

There were no survivors.

Sisera fled to Jael’s tent and Jael killed him. Israel went on to destroy Jabin — the king of the Canaanites.

Under Deborah’s leadership, there was peace in Israel for 40 years.

 Just as God raised Deborah to lead his people, God is raising up women in our congregations to lead.

Further Reading:

Johnson, Alan F. How I Changed My Mind About Women in Leadership: Compelling Stories from Prominent Evangelicals. Grand Rapids Michigan: Zondervan, 2010.

Kroeger, Catherine Clark., and Mary J. Evans. The IVP Women’s Bible Commentary. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2002.

Tidball, Derek, and Dianne Tidball. The Message of Women: Creation, Grace and Gender. Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 2012.

Tucker, Ruth. Dynamic Women of the Bible: What We Can Learn from Their Surprising Stories. Baker Books, 2014.

Younger, K. Lawson. The NIV Application Commentary: Judges. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 2002.

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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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