I was doing some research for the daily devotional I’m writing for my youth at Delightfully Old Church* when I came across an advertisement for an upcoming Ligonier Ministries conference in Washington, D.C.
For those of you who are unaware, Ligonier Ministries is the 40-something-year-old ministry of R.C. Sproul, a Reformed theologian whom I’ve read since I was a wee, angsty teenager. Jack Bonavich, my mentor, introduced me to his writings when I was seventeen. My advisor in undergrad, a personal friend of R.C. Sproul, frequently spoke of him in his lectures. I don’t know exactly how he’d feel about me (as a woman in ministry is generally frowned upon in his particular church culture) but for the past seven or so years, I could safely say he’d feel pretty good about my theology.
I’ve mentioned before on here the conservative theological background I come from. I have been a 5-Point Calvinist for much of my adult Christian life (ignoring the fact that TULIP is a poor reflection of deeper Reformed theology). I love the concept of the Five Solas (Sola Scriptura, Sola Fide, Sola Gratia, Sola Christe, Soli Deo Gloria – only scripture, only faith, only grace, only Christ, all for the glory of God, respectively) that for a long time I considered having them tattooed somewhere on my person. I’ve read Calvin and Luther and turned my nose up at Wesley. Except for the whole “I have boobs and would like to teach in the church” thing, I’ve been on pretty much the same page as R.C. Sproul and his ilk (Robert Godfrey, Mike Horton, etc) for much of my Christian life.
Things are different, though, now that I’ve completed my first year of seminary and am starting my second. As I read through the description of the lectures, I felt myself responding noticeably different to them than I would have in the midst of my undergraduate degree. To start with, I rather quickly picked up on the fact that there were discounts available for “Pastors” and “Pastor’s Wives” as well as seminary students (thankfully, this had no gender stipulation). This is not shocking – the conference is being held by a representative of a tradition that will not even entertain the idea of a woman in ordained ministry.
And three years ago, such a designation would not have bothered me. And now, after dropping almost $100 for registration, I’m suddenly worried that I might end up lying about where I’m studying and what I’m planning to become simply to avoid potential ridicule and judgment. I handled it relatively well in undergrad (after all, being the only pre-seminary female theology major, and a PCUSA member to boot, at an LCMS university is not for those of thinner skin) but am out of practice after a year at a seminary where women are celebrated.
But the gender issues are not the only source of my confliction. (Side note – I positively HATE IT when gender issues are a source of my confliction.) I am curious and a bit nervous to see how I will receive the lectures at the conference. I went to a similar conference my first year of undergrad and sucked up every word spoken, eager and thirsty. The thrill of excitement I felt upon discovering the conference and the lineup of speakers dissipated as I realized that the woman I’ve become no longer wholly agrees with their definition of Christianity.
I have always been a strange amalgamation of “conservative” Orthodox theology and social liberalism. Princeton has forced me to see “liberalism” as a valid part of the body of Christ with something important to add to the universal journey. Perhaps this nervousness is from the anticipation of discomfort from “conservative” muscles that haven’t been stretched in quite awhile. I don’t know the source, exactly. But the nervousness? She is there.
*300-year-old church where I attend and will be starting my first church internship on September 12th.
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I grew up in a fairly traditional, relatively Reformed Presbyterian church, of the PC(USA) variety. There are, within the bounds of the PC(USA), churches that hold to wildly differing beliefs. It really all depends on what literal church you walk into. I have been in a Presbyterian church that preached television show theology from the pulpit, have heard of PC(USA) pastors declaring that “Jesus wasn’t *that* important – what’s important is that we all get along and LOOOOOOOOVE”, have heard pastors preach feeling good over feeling convicted, embraced over forgiven. This is the far end of the liberal spectrum in my denomination, and such churches certainly aren’t fair representations of the PC(USA) as a whole, though such churches do make up a defining part of the denomination.
The church I grew up in was not one of these churches. I have heard Law and Gospel preached from the pulpit nearly every Sunday (there are always a few that manage to clunk by without much focus on Jesus at all, but those are few and far between – relatively). I learned the significance of the Protestant Reformation and its theology from weekly theological education classes. I learned to treasure the Bible as the inerrant Word of God (with the understanding that errors may arise, are pretty much guaranteed to arise, in human interpretation of the Word). I learned that we are saved by Grace alone, by Faith alone, as a monergistic work on the part of God. I played no part in my salvation other than as the receiver of it. The beloved, helpless, dirty street urchin child of God.
I have called myself Reformed from the moment I began to understand the theology of the Reformation. I call myself Reformed because I believe its understanding and flushing out of Scripture to be more accurate (maybe not entirely accurate, as I am not willing to put all my weight behind any human interpretation) than all others. I believe it clings to the Cross and doesn’t try to bend itself (too much) to the opposing will of Man.
All of this is excessive preamble (I’ve been told I tell stories like Agatha Christie, but without all the people dying) is to explain that I consider myself to be Reformed. I understand and love Calvin, have read and loved Luther.
But there is one part of theology that I hold to that is repeatedly unsupported by Reformed tradtion. I hold, have always held, will likely always hold, that women are not to be excluded from the role of pastoral ministry. That the use of verses like 1 Timothy 2:10-11 (to forbid the ordination of women) are taken out of context, are made into an aberration of scriptural interpretation that doesn’t fit with an understanding of the chapter as a whole, the book as a whole, Paul as a whole.
I have repeatedly been told by friends I admire, professors whose words I have soaked up, theologians I have read and loved, that I am horrifyingly in error in my belief. That by determining that such prooftexts reference a “period commandment” and not an “eternal commandment” (which, I believe, is supported in an accurate translation of the text and hermeneutical interpretation of the context), I ought to be forced to give up my hold on the title “Reformed” and accept “liberal feminist” instead.
But while I am certainly liberal in some things (recycle, reduce and reuse, dammit! It’s not that hard!) I am NOT liberal in my theological views. And I am not a feminist by any means.
But this discordance between my view (the accepted PC(USA) view as well, which is why I stick to this denomination that I am not always happy with) and the view of the rest of the “Reformed” church is frequently a source of personal unrest. It feels wrong for me to insist that, while they are right in so many things, they are truly wrong in this. And yet…
And yet I see in scripture a place for women in ministry. And I see a place in the church for women in ministry. A need in the church for women in ministry. I am not settled yet on the idea that there is a place for women as the head pastor of a church, though perhaps that comes from an transference of the fact that I am not comfortable with the idea of *me* as the head pastor of a church. But I find it almost laughable to think that God is not calling women to a place of ordained ministry in the church and in the world, or that we can deny His call. I have been attempting to deny His call my entire life, and see how miserably I’ve failed in THAT endeavor.
I was raised in my church to have respect, reverence for The Truth. That there will always be The Truth, something that is real and is right beyond human perception. I am wary of allowing myself to adopt a theology in any part that is separate from The Truth, simply because it makes me feel better, more comfortable.
I have struggled since feeling that tug into ministry with the thought that maybe I was doing it for some deep-rooted, self-satisfying desire within myself. After fighting this path into seminary, screaming and clawing and begging for something else for most of the way, I can’t help but think that it is not me (and likely, not the other women like me, or at least not all of them) who are giving into this self-satisfying desire. Perhaps that guilt rests on the shoulders who find their traditional view more comfortable, easier to handle, than to consider that perhaps they’ve been wrong about Scripture this entire time and have been denying half of God’s called servants from completeing the ministry they were born to do.
So many thoughts tonight. Forgive the incoherent ones. They can’t all be winners.
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My best friend of 13 years just asked me to officiate her and her partner’s wedding (or faux-wedding, depending on the legality of gay marriage in California at that time) five years from now.
My own qualms about performing ANY marriage aside, I am a lot a little shocked, a little honored, and genuinely sad that I had to say no. Because I’d love more than ANYTHING to be the one to marry my best friend off.
But I can’t do it. I’m in favor of gay marriage for constitutional reasons but I am not in favor of it being performed in the church. I can’t help but think that doing so is giving God the finger and saying, “I’m going to perform this sacred covenant and I really don’t care at all about Your thoughts on the matter.”
For the record, at this point in my life I’m very uncomfortable at the thought of marrying ANYBODY, sexual preference be damned. I’ve seen too many divorces and too many terrible marriages in my family alone to be particularly eager about joining anyone in holy matrimony.
Perhaps I’ll be able to articulate this better later, but… how do I explain that I’m ok with her getting married to her partner, I just can’t be the one to perform the ceremony?
I told her no. She told me that she had expected that to be my answer but thought she’d ask anyway. She asked me to think about it and I gave her my word that I would. But I told her not to expect that I’d change my mind.
Our conversation was over webcam with me in California and her in Japan and over thousands of miles and a crappy internet connection, she could tell that I was tearing up while I told her I couldn’t do it.
And promptly made fun of me.
And I was sad and she was sad and we were both so damned sad. We said “I love you” and said goodbye.
I know how I feel philosophically and theologically on the matter of gay marriage. I’m pretty solid in it. I hate that I cannot in good conscience marry this person I love to the person that she loves, but I threw my allegiance in with the God of Abraham, Issac and Jacob. That trumps a lifetime of friendship.
I think it is the only thing that does.
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