I grew up in a nuclear family. Although, it’s no longer a popular idea to encourage our kids to believe they can do anything, fortunately for me, I grew up in an age before that rule was enacted (insert big smiley face here). Time and again, by affirming word and enabling deed, I received the message loud and clear that I could do anything, as long as I put my mind to it. I grew up secure in the knowledge that my dad and my mom appreciated and respected my brains, my tenacity, and my gifts. Even now, I believe I can do almost anything, if I manage a little research and try hard enough. It may take a while. It may not be perfect. But I have confidence in my perseverance and my abilities because my parents had confidence in me. My big, fat Italian family may have been a little too “Everybody Loves Raymond” for some, but I loved my family. I felt safe and confident there.
I grew up in a liturgical church. At Saint Peter’s on the Hill Episcopal Church, I fondly remember fall carnivals and costume parties (especially that time my Roman Catholic cousin came dressed as a nun), spring Easter egg hunts and sunrise services, giddy summer picnics on the church lawn, and delightful winter sleigh rides in the hills of Connecticut. In the Episcopal Church, my young self witnessed kind gestures in times of disappointment, comforting words in times of grief, and belly laughs in times of joy. My childhood church may have been a little too “high church” for some, but I loved my liturgical-loving church. I felt safe and happy there.
In the second semester of my freshman year of university, I met a handsome, artistic, Pentecostal guy. After a couple of dates, he invited me to his church. I agreed. I went. I loved it. I met wonderful, joy-filled people who welcomed me graciously and loved me profusely. They encouraged me in times of despair, affirmed me in times of seeking, and anointed me in times of prayer. My Spirit-filled church may have been a little too (as my sister would say) happy-clappy for some, but I adored my Pentecostal-loving church. I felt safe and valued there.
After graduating from my state university, I moved to Florida. Encouraged by my church and secure in God’s call on my life, I sought out a Christian university to study the Bible and prepare for a life of ministry. Although certainly not immune to the realities of sexism in the world, I was however, more than a little naïve concerning the realities of sexist attitudes and behaviors on the campus of a Pentecostal university, especially one that doctrinally affirmed women at all levels of ministry.
In the 25 + years since my husband and I graduated from that university, we have preached, pastored, and taught in a variety of ministry and cultural settings. We are both ordained ministers in our fellowship as well as appointed missionaries. With my husband’s support and encouragement, I also earned my master’s degree in Biblical and Theological Studies.
Like most ministry couples, we have prayed desperately, cried profusely, worshipped extravagantly, and loved profoundly. Over the years, I have witnessed and experienced glorious and redeeming acts of grace, kindness, and generosity in our fellowship. I have also, unfortunately, witnessed and experienced disheartening and at times dehumanizing acts of sexism not only in the hallowed halls of the Christian universities I attended, but in the churches I became a member of, and even at district functions I participated in.
I still love the Pentecostal church, but I don’t always feel safe here. Over the last few days, I have felt even less so.
The disappointing response (or lack thereof) by some Christian leaders in our fellowship and the Christian Church at large has left me feeling that once again that women in our circles (and by extension, women in general) don’t really matter. We are expendable. We are not worthy of respect. In the last week, I witnessed our personhood disparaged for the sake of policies and platforms. Our birthright sold for “courtside” seats. Our humanity dismissed for “more important” issues.
I want to link arms with evangelist and teacher,
Beth Moore and shout: “Wake up, Sleepers, to what women have dealt with all along in environments of gross entitlement & power. Are we sickened? Yes. Surprised? NO.”
Time and again, we teach men by example that it is OK to excuse, joke about, or shrug off predatory language and behavior. “It’s a guy thing,” we’re told. “It’s just talk,” they say. “It’s how we’re wired,” they try to convince us.
It’s just wrong, I tell you.
I know many, very respectable, and God-fearing men. Strong, confident, faithful men who have been some of my greatest supporters and sources of encouragement. I am thoroughly grateful for men like my father, my husband, and my close-like-family male friends who have affirmed my calling and stood by me in life and ministry. I respect them greatly and value their presence and influence in my life.
I have often heard well-meaning men say it’s their God-given responsibility to protect me and other women. Curiously enough, these same men have been conspicuously silent this past week. Regardless, the sentiment still makes me cringe. Because it misses the point. In all sincerity, and I’ll try to say this as gently, but as clearly as I possibly can: Men, I don’t want to need your protection as much as I need you to want to respect me as a human being. To respect all of us women as co-image bearers of God. Men, if you respect me and all women, and you teach other men to respect me and all women, then us women won’t need you to protect us (at least not so much from other men).
Unfortunately, in the church and society we have often unfairly put men in one of two categories: predator or protector. Neither category, though, faithfully aligns with God’s original intention: partner.
The Old Testament outlines God’s original design:
So God created humankind in his image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.
God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” (Genesis 1:26-28 NRSV)
The New Testament affirms God’s original intention:
“In the last days,” God says,
“I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your young men will see visions,
your old men will dream dreams.
Even on my servants, both men and women,
I will pour out my Spirit in those days,
and they will prophesy.” (Acts 2:17-18 NIV)
So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female,for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ,then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise. (Galatians 3:26-29 NIV)
Women and men: Equal in image. Partners in dominion. Co-laborers in the work. Co-heirs with Christ.
I am fully confident that women and men posses the capacity to faithfully pray, make decisions, and minister together. I know this is possible because I’ve witnessed it firsthand. When women and men respect one another as image bearers and likewise affirm each other’s gifts and strengths, esteem each another’s personhood and boundaries they are capable of doing great things together. As God meant for them to do. From the beginning. But we have a lot of work to do to get from here to there.
First, we need to recognize we have a problem. We need to educate ourselves on rape culture. We need to patiently, attentively, and compassionately listen to women and their stories.
On Friday evening, best selling author,
Kelly Oxford tweeted an invitation to women to share their first assaults. By Saturday evening she had 9.7 million Twitter interactions.
9.7 million. Oxford tweeted, “women have tweeted me sexual assault stories for 14 hours straight. Minimum 50 per minute. harrowing. do not ignore. #notokay”
Beth Moore also mentioned her own assault in her
Twitter take down: “I’m one among many women sexually abused, misused, stared down, heckled, talked naughty to. Like we liked it. We didn’t. We’re tired of it.”
All of you know women who have been assaulted. You do, whether you know it or not. I personally know at least nine women victimized by their father, uncle, husband, or family friend in their own homes. Are you sickened, yet? Brace yourself. All of those men were either teachers, pastors, deacons, or evangelists. Friends, we have a lot of work to do.
Second, we need to proclaim loudly and clearly the inherent value of women as co-image bearers, co-leaders, co-laborers, and co-heirs in the kingdom. We need to weed-out from our libraries authors and books that undermine that message. We need to sit down at the same table as women. We need to talk.
Finally, I wouldn’t be much of a teacher if I didn’t point you to some resources to educate and empower you to effectively preach and teach awareness, intervention, prevention, and healing. Feel free to suggest more resources (books, curriculum, articles, etc.) in the comment section.
Ashley Easter is a survivor of abuse and advocate for gender equality. She’s hosting The Courage Conference at the end of this month and is also “releasing a
course for pastors and church leaders on handling abuse and supporting survivors. This self-study curriculum is designed for pastoral and leadership teams to study and implement independently.”
The Courage Conference “is a non-denominational event that will offer a judgement-free place for survivors of abuse (and those who love them) to gather and hear inspiring stories from other survivors, as well as how they are finding healing and moving forward in boldness. It will also educate pastors and church leaders on how to prevent abuse, and how to respond when it happens. We will offer a unique opportunity to hear from trained professionals and to connect with free local resources, so your church doesn’t have to do this alone. Additionally, separate pastor-specific and survivor-specific breakout sessions will be a voluntary part of the program.”
Books
The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse, by Ellen Bass and Lauren Davis
