How Do Girls Learn to Be Preachers? From Women
If you have been inside a Protestant church, you know the second most important part of the building after the sanctuary is the social or fellowship hall. That is THE place for coffee, donuts, casseroles and conversations. There is not yet a gender-inclusive word for “fellowship” and “personship” doesn’t cut it.
In church lingo, “fellowship” as a verb means to be aligned with and connected to. Protestants, especially Baptist ones, can’t excommunicate. We disfellowship! That means we are no longer in a relationship with you. No coffee or casseroles together anymore. It does not mean we amicably part company.
That is why it was significant and hurtful when the Rev. Nancy Hastings Sehested’s church, Prescott Memorial Baptist, an historic Southern Baptist Church in Memphis, Tennessee, was disfellowshipped by the Southern Baptist Convention for having a woman pastor in 1987. Thirty-seven years ago! I clearly remember hearing that news. A war on women in leadership in the church is not new. In fact, the war on women is now at a fever pitch in many denominations.
If male leaders in some denominations and some churches locally have their way, the little girls of today will not have professional women role models -- especially in ministry. They will only have women Sunday school teachers to look up to.
The women put in front of girls in those churches are trophy wives, also called “trad wives” meaning “traditional.” They smile as they stand beside their husbands. Or they are authors who promote nonsense like arguing that contraceptives give women abortions, like the author who spoke recently at an island church. It is sad that these women don’t realize they are pawns in patriarchy’s power grab.
It’s a good idea to revisit biblical history. A woman was the first Christian preacher. She announced the resurrection to men hiding in fear. If she hadn’t been so brave, men might still be in the dark.
In my experience, local churches run on the skills and labors of women, in and out of the pulpit. We have an amazing number of very fine women in leadership in our downtown Fernandina churches. Hooray! It has not always been so. I don’t think we want to limit the role models we give our daughters and granddaughters to that of being wives and mothers.
Rev. Hastings Sehested is now retired after a long and fruitful ministry. She does guest preaching at churches and conferences. Here is an excerpt from the extemporaneous sermon she delivered at the time of her church’s expulsion on Oct. 19, 1987. It still rings true today.
“By what authority do I preach? That question you ask of me. It is not a new question. It is a question that was asked of our Lord Jesus Christ on a number of occasions. He had not the authority of the religious establishment, not the authority of the state. By what authority did he minister? By the authority of none other than the Holy Spirit that moved in his midst.
“And so by what authority do I preach and bear witness to my faith? By the authority of the Southern Baptist Convention? By the authority of the Shelby County Baptist Association? By the authority of Prescott Memorial Baptist Church? No. No, my brothers and sisters. By the authority of the Lordship of Jesus Christ, who did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, becoming a servant.
“And following in his footsteps, as a servant of Jesus Christ, who took the towel and basin of water and exemplified the kind of servanthood that each one of us is called to live under, I found a towel with my name on it. And who was it that taught me this wonderful freedom of the spirit? My Sunday school teachers. My pastor. My Southern Baptist church, who nurtured me and said, “God calls each one of us, so listen! Listen, Nancy!” And so I listened. While we are in this place debating about who can or cannot stand behind a piece of wood, there’s a world out there. And the cries of that world are growing louder. There’s a hurting world desperately in need of all of us.”
After worship ended at my last pastorate, and we were getting ready to close things up, I would sometimes find little girls in the sanctuary, standing behind the pulpit, playing me. This is how it starts. Playing at what is possible. Dreaming. Experimenting. We don’t want any little girls or young women in our community to limit themselves (which we are good at doing) or feel limited by what others, especially men, think is best for them.
Go ahead, girls. Dream! A hurting world is waiting.
