I wouldn't trust just anyone to write a book on humility. As a woman, I've heard too many powerful leaders advocate for submission or humility or silence--for others--without embodying those qualities themselves. Dr. Edwards is different. He had already earned my respect as a peaceable and humble leader who lifts up those around him. During his years of experience in both pastoral ministry and academic service he has cultivated hard-earned wisdom.
One of his most unique contributions to this topic is that Dr. Edwards is sensitive to power dynamics that affect women and minorities and he's careful to help us see that humility does not mean passivity in the face of injustice. I'm grateful for his work!
Here are some of my favorite lines in the book:
"Without humility there is no justice" (7).
"Humility fosters collaboration, which can energize us to find solutions to problems" (17).
"Humility does not mean a lack of assertiveness or a rejection of firm truth-telling" (67).
"True humility...does not ignore or accept oppression, but instead seeks human flourishing by eliminating injustice through self-sacrificial love" (156).
"Humble people are justifiably angry toward evil because they are attuned to injustice, and they also understand that dismantling unjust systems does not contradict but is a consequence of humility. Because humility is yielding to God and committing to peacemaking, it cannot equate to passivity. Marginalized people embody humility by focusing on the pain and alienation of others--not just their own -- and joining in solidarity with the disinherited for the purpose of justice" (161).
. . . has sent shockwaves through the blogosphere, the twittersphere, and every other sphere. My Facebook feed has been punctuated by alarm, by groaning, by reasoned responses, and by all-out debate. Did you miss it? You can listen here.
But I am not surprised.
John Piper has been saying it long and loud in a myriad of ways. In his universe, where Christianity is essentially masculine and God has appointed only men to leadership both inside and outside the church, and has appointed women to the joyful task of following, it is only logical that women should not be seminary professors. He clarifies,
"Just to be clear, the issue is not whether women should attend seminary in one of its programs and get the best biblical grounding possible. The issue is whether women should be models, mentors, and teachers for those preparing for a role that is biblically designed for spiritual men."
In other words, women can attend seminary, but since seminaries are designed for training men for pastoral ministry, all the professors should be men. He goes on to say,
"If it is unbiblical to have women as pastors, how can it be biblical to have women who function in formal teaching and mentoring capacities to train and fit pastors for the very calling from which the mentors themselves are excluded? I don’t think that works."
I appreciate Piper's logical consistency. But is he right? All three of his premises deserve comment.
1. Is Christianity Essentially Masculine?
I can't get away from passages that compare Yahweh to a nursing mother (Isa 45:19) or say that God has given birth (Deut 32:18). Notice how fluidly the prophet moves between masculine and feminine imagery for God in Isaiah 42:13-14. Even Jesus compares himself to a mother hen protecting her chicks (Matt 23:27). These are metaphors, of course, so they don't make God female any more than speaking of him using masculine pronouns makes him male. But even Paul is not above using feminine metaphors for his own ministry! See 1 Thess 2:7. Why, then, must Piper privilege masculine modes of talking about the spiritual life? Are the passages that use feminine imagery for the life of faith somehow less accurate? I think not. 2. Is It Unbiblical to Have Women Pastors?
I used to think so. Thanks to male college and seminary professors who patiently showed me the biblical and theological case for women in pastoral ministry, I changed my mind. I feel no need to reproduce here the excellent arguments for why women can teach and preach in the church and can exercise their pastoral and leadership gifts. A good starting place is Alice Mathews' new book, Gender Roles and the People of God. She deals with all the key passages well. You might also appreciate the autobiographical approach of How I Changed My Mind about Women in Leadership. For those of you who are getting nervous, consider this: To conclude that women can teach and preach does not necessitate the abandonment of conservative exegesis. I teach at a 95-year-old Canadian institution that has been unabashedly conservative since it's founding, but which has also had women teaching Bible to men since 1923.
3. Should Women Be Seminary Professors?
This question follows closely on the heels of the previous one. If women may serve in church leadership, or at least as teachers, then my answer is yes. Michael Bird has made a good case for why women in seminary need women professors, as role models, as advocates, as encouragers. He has listened well to the women in his circles, and I am grateful. But he left something crucial unsaid:
Men need women as seminary professors, too.
Female students are not the only ones who benefit from having female professors (in seminary or at any level). Male students benefit. Male colleagues benefit. I believe it is critically important for men to hear a women's perspective in the classroom. Having an intelligent woman at the podium calls into question the ill-formed assumptions of students -- both male and female -- who might have thought that anything and everything worth knowing about comes from men. Young male pastors who meet brilliant and articulate women in seminary will be far less likely to overlook them in their churches. They will be far more likely to encourage young women to cultivate their gifts of leadership and invest in education.
Several years ago I watched a powerful documentary that argued this thesis: if we want to break the cycle of poverty, the key is to educate women. In developing nations all over the world, the education of women is a game changer. Educated women make sure their own children -- both sons and daughters -- know how to read. Sons of educated mothers don't fall prey to the lie that women are only useful in the kitchen or in the bedroom. The same is true in seminary.
It seems to me that having female professors goes a long way toward breaking a cycle of gender disparity in church leadership. Not only does it model for female students that female leadership is possible (which in itself is critically important), but it models this for men as well.
It is hard to imagine a more sobering election cycle in America. I watched the primaries with interest and the nominations with alarm. I am quite simply speechless. Are these really the best candidates for President that our nation could produce? I'm tempted to list the shocking specifics that make this election unprecedented, but you've had enough of that already, and my goal is to encourage you.
I borrow the words of the prophet Micah:
"Listen, you leaders of Jacob, you rulers of Israel.
Should you not embrace justice, you who hate good and love evil?" (Micah 3:1–2a)
"Hear this, you leaders of Jacob, you rulers of Israel,
who despise justice and distort all that is right;
who build Zion with bloodshed, and Jerusalem with wickedness.
Her leaders judge for a bribe, her priests teach for a price,
and her prophets tell fortunes for money.
Yet they look for the LORD's support and say,
'Is not the LORD among us? No disaster will come upon us." (Micah 3:9–11)
Like ancient Israel, this campaign season has been drenched with distortion and lies, wickedness and injustice, and yet the candidates vie for endorsement from religious leaders. Tomorrow as millions of Americans head to the polls, they will likely send a clear signal that it's okay to cheat your way to the top, okay to take advantage of the system, okay to abuse power to get what you want, and okay to consider yourself above the law. To be clear, I am not vilifying any single candidate. Either major party nominee will bring with them to the White House a long list of offenses. It's enough to invite despair.
But then there's the Psalms. I've just read through the "enthronement psalms" -- Psalms 93–99. These psalms are intriguing, in part because they directly follow the despair of an apparently failed Davidic covenant (Psalm 89), in a section of the book that mentions neither David nor another human king. Who's in charge? How can we have enthronement if there's no king? For those in exile, this was an urgent question.
For the enthronement psalms the answer is simple: Yahweh is king over the whole earth. And what a candidate he is!
God is utterly blameless:
"Your statutes, LORD, stand firm; holiness adorns your house for endless days." (Psalm 93:5)
God is full of loving compassion for the weak:
"When I said, 'My foot is slipping," your unfailing love, LORD, supported me." (Psalm 94:18)
God is praiseworthy:
"Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise." (Psalm 96:4a)
Even his foreign policy is celebrated:
"The LORD reigns, let the earth be glad; let the distant shores rejoice." (Psalm 97:1)
God will make just decisions and treat people fairly:
"He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples with equity." (Psalm 98:9b)
Now that's a leader I can get behind.
And so on this election day, vote your conscience. Make every effort to elect leaders whose character will compel them to uphold justice and govern wisely. Choose the best you can. But remember this: our hope does not rest in humans. The one who sits enthroned above all is the God who saves.
"Exalt the LORD our God and worship at his footstool; he is holy." (Psalm 99:9)
Against the black backdrop of this election cycle, this is very good news indeed.
I had heard about the book a while back. All good things. It seemed like the kind of book that could illuminate my journey as a woman in academia. But the dissertation didn't leave much time for extra reading, so I tucked away the idea for a rainy day.
Months elapsed. A year or two, maybe.
In December, after turning in another revised draft of my dissertation, I decided it was time. Thanks to its popularity, it was easy to find Lean In at the public library. Some of you will chuckle that I found time to read a book by the COO of Facebook before I found time to actually join Facebook. I know. That's so like me. (However, I did finally join Facebook last week, so feel free to send me a friend request if you'd like!)
It's not supposed to be a self-help book, but I found it tremendously helpful. It's not exactly Sandberg's autobiography either, but she opens up the windows of her life and lets us all look in. How does a woman lead well? How can she balance family and career? How can she navigate a man's world without losing her femininity? (It turns out that Evangelicals are not the only ones wondering about this!) Sandberg's big idea, the one she comes back to again and again, is that women need to lean in to the opportunities in front of them. Yes, sometimes women are overlooked, at a disadvantage because of our gender, hitting glass ceilings. But Sandberg says women often sabotage our own success by holding back. We are hesitant to walk through an open door because we aren't sure how we'll manage everything on the other side. Women regularly turn down opportunities well before it's necessary (e.g., a single woman avoiding a promotion because she imagines it will interfere with her future role as wife and mother). At Google and Facebook, Sandberg has observed this time and again.
There is certainly a time for "no." But saying "no" enables us to say "yes" when the time is right.
That time came for me sooner than we expected. I was ready to lean in. Actively praying about how God would have me serve now that I'm coming to the end of my PhD. Circling that topic in prayer. But my spring semester was still relatively open. On a fluke, Multnomah didn't need me. Aside from putting the finishing touches on my dissertation and defending it, I thought I might try to publish an article or two. Maybe paint some interior trim or catch up on the family scrapbook.
Then the phone rang.
The department chair from George Fox. Wondering if I could possibly teach a class . . . immediately. One of their adjunct instructors had backed out at the last minute, leaving him with a slot to fill. School starts next week. It's not an accident that he thought of me. I've been in touch with him for over 2 years, hoping that someday something like this would develop. It didn't take us long to decide. Danny and I had both been feeling that now was the time for "yes." I was eager to lean in. For four long days I crafted a syllabus, putting on the finishing touches yesterday.
Then, this morning in church, we sang a song that harnessed Sandberg's thesis in service of our ultimate purpose as believers: worship. The lyrics jumped off the screen. Written just for me. Exquisitely timed.
Spirit of the Living God
Spirit of the Living God
We only want to hear your voice
We're hanging on every word.
Spirit of the Living God
Spirit of the Living God
We're leaning in to who you are
Everything else can wait.
After all, it's possible to lean in to the wrong thing, at the wrong time, for the wrong reasons. Leaning in will only bring life when our deepest desires are shaped by worship.
Yes, lean in. But not just in any direction. Lean in to HIM. Let him transform your desires until the thing you want is the thing He wants.
"Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4)
The song continues . . .
When you come in the room
When you do what only you can do
It changes what we see and what we seek.*
This week I'm soaking in the grace of fulfilled desires. The "thing" itself pales in comparison to the presence of the Living God who has acted, and continues to act, on my behalf.
May 2016 be a year of leaning in. Not to earthly success. But leaning in to the presence of God and embracing all He has planned. Everything else can wait.
This is my 15th Mother's Day as a mom, if you count the one following my first pregnancy, which ended in miscarriage. I've received a lot of sweet crafts and cards from my kids, and flowers, chocolate, etc. But this year tops them all.
First, 10 days ago my girls took me on a special early Mother's Day date. Eliana paid for lunch at The Old Spaghetti Factory and then the new Cinderella movie. It was a red letter day. We loved the food, enjoyed our time together immensely, and were enthralled by the movie. It was wonderful!
Then, when Mother's Day actually arrived, I had the honor of sharing the podium at church with my delightful 14-year-old daughter. It wasn't originally planned that way, but two events -- my preaching and her announcement -- just happened to find their way to the same day on the calendar. Mother's Day was the occasion for my invitation to preach, but because of Eliana, yesterday was also "Compassion Sunday."
Months ago we received a letter in the mail from Compassion International. Because the child we sponsor shares a birthday with Eliana, all the mail from Compassion is addressed to her. This one invited her to become an advocate for Compassion International by hosting an event at our church. It caught her attention. A few days later, we were on campus together at Multnomah and a volunteer representative from Compassion just happened to be there manning a table. I was busy meeting with a student, so Eliana wandered over to the table to find out more. Without any involvement from me, the correspondence between them continued over the ensuing weeks. Before long a box came in the mail for Eliana with photos of children waiting to be sponsored, a T-shirt for her to wear, and posters to hang at church. She met with the Compassion representative along with one of our pastors to plan the event.
Yesterday I sat proudly in the front row and watched Eliana address our congregation and introduce the Compassion volunteer. She looked completely at ease as she give a stirring plea for all of us to consider. Where did this beautiful, responsible, articulate, and motivated young lady come from? And what happened to our little girl? The best part was that Eliana planned the entire thing from start to finish. What a gift to see God at work in and through our children!
Wait . . . that's not all. By the time we packed up and headed home, 13* new children had sponsors! Way to go, Eliana! That's the best Mother's Day present I can imagine.
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*Update: Some folks took a week to think and pray about sponsorship. By the end of the next week's services, the grand total rose to 20 sponsored kids as a result of Compassion Sunday!
In case you missed the press release in 2013, Compassion International submitted to an independent study by academics in the social sciences to find out if child sponsorship really works. The outcome far surpassed expectations. Compared with un-sponsored kids from the same families and communities, sponsored children grow up to earn more, learn more, be healthier and become leaders in their churches and communities. Sponsorship empowers young people to exit the cycle of poverty. Educating girls is the single most effective strategy for alleviating world poverty.
For related blog posts about inspiring kids to make a difference, click here and here.
The trail along the Salmon River offered cool shade that August afternoon. Countless trees, some of them wider than I am tall, others just fledglings, flanked both sides of the river. My eyes landed on a massive trunk and I craned my neck to see its towering top. If that one tree wasn't here, how different this stretch of trail would be! You could almost miss it, the expanse of dull brown bark beside the trail. But it's absence would change everything. Beside the path on either side, leafy ferns crowded together in the shade of the tallest tree, safe from the sun's scorching rays.
Salmon River, Oregon. Photo: C Imes
I climbed down the bank and walked on the stones, worn smooth by centuries of melting snow. Glancing across the water, I noticed a fallen tree. The steep bank where it once stood proudly had been washed downstream, lacking roots to trap topsoil. I stood there, pondering. You could certainly take a tree like that for granted, one of many, until it is gone. The refreshment of a hike through the woods depends on a great number of ordinary trees, growing up side by side, steadily reaching heavenward and shading the earth with their spreading limbs. (Just outside the national forest, on the drive home, lay evidence of mass destruction, several acres hacked to the ground all at once, with their bloody stumps baking in the summer sun.)
Who are the shade-givers in my life -- the ordinary people whose faithfulness makes this world a place worth living? Good neighbors blend in with their surroundings, seeming ordinary enough. But if we pause to imagine life without their stability -- their day-in-and-day-out caring for their corner of the world -- we discover what a difference they make. Subtract one tree and you have a hole in the sky, fewer branches for nesting, the topsoil washes downstream. A bleak landscape gradually replaces the forest. The exposed branches of neighboring trees grow dry and brittle...
My mind drifts back to Hudson Street, the place I called home for the first 9 years of my life. I can still smell it -- the wholesome aroma of Suzie's bread wafting across the street. It's been almost 30 years, but I can still taste the soft buttered slice, fresh from her oven on baking day. Suzie's hands and face and apron smudged with white flour as she answered the door bell. Warm lumps rising in the oven. Then punching and pulling and rolling the dough until it was just right for braiding.
I can still hear her voice, strong and warm, with its European lilt. Swiss neighbors, like swiss chocolate and swiss bread, are hard to forget.
Is that why I've always felt a part of me come alive at the smell of fresh bread baking? It takes me back to those innocent days -- sandboxes and swings, gardens and neighbors who cared. There were others who didn't -- who were more likely to be drunk and yelling than pulling out their knee-high weeds, but Suzie and Marion made up for the whole lot. They were the stately oaks across my Hudson who kept the rich topsoil from washing away. It was their shade under which I flourished and grew. I know Suzie prayed for us then and still does.
I braided my first loaf the other day and thought of Suzie. Her steady demeanor, her no nonsense, no drama way of life. Her long, black (now white) tresses that I only rarely saw loose, when she brushed them. Every day she braided and twisted them into a bun on the back of her head. Suzie and Marion were nosy in the kindest way. "Mare" used to let himself into our backyard each day to check our thermometer and our vegetable garden, as if he didn't have enough of his own garden, bursting with produce. My brother, John, used to stand with his toes right up to the tippy edge of the sidewalk and call for him, "Mare! Mare!"
I'm guessing Suzie canned lots of things and cooked up a storm. But all I remember is her braided bread, for me one of the most delicious smells of childhood. (I wonder -- is her kitchen valance still hanging? -- the one stuck to the wall with the chewing gum I chewed just for her?)
A cherished visit with Suzie and Marion in 2005
I realize now that some of the houses I've imagined while reading books are really Suzie's house, with its galley kitchen looking out over the back yard, its family-sized table off the living room where her children ate their meals growing up, and where John and I sat after they were grown and gone, to fill our mouths with bread still hot from the oven. The piano with a hymnal close at hand. The living room with its inviting circle of couch and chairs. The box of children's books waiting to be read.
My world was a better place because of Suzie. She may be ordinary, but without her my life would have had an empty place. Suzie sheltered us on Hudson Street, providing a safe haven in a broken world. Her bread nourished the body and her company nourished the soul.
Never underestimate the power of an ordinary life well-lived.
When life's journey takes you into the desert, it can seem like "real life" is on hold, waiting for problems to be resolved, waiting for questions to be answered, waiting for momentum to return. But desert seasons are where some of God's most important work gets done—inside us. This morning I read reflection #171 from Charles Ringma's profound devotional, Dare to Journey with Henri Nouwen. Time after time, this book has spoken life to my soul. Today I simply must share the whole reflection with you, because it captures so well the idea that the desert is God's classroom:
"Much of life is spent preparing for and gaining knowledge for future roles and tasks. And many of our educational strategies are based on the premise of learning first in order that we may do later. For some, this has resulted in much learning but little doing. For others, it has meant quite a deal of unlearning once they have experienced the real world." "Yet it should be obvious that many things are learned by doing. One learns to pray by praying, to serve by serving, and to love by loving...." "Nouwen hints at this. He writes, 'The great illusion of leadership is to think that a person can be led out of the desert by someone who has never been there.' No only can we not look to spiritual guides who lack life's difficult experiences or who have failed to make sense of them or acknowledge them, but we also need to walk our own desert experiences and learn from them." "Because spirituality does not embrace only an aspect of life, but all of it, all of life's experiences become the testing ground for linking faith and practice. Thus, in being, living, doing, praying, serving, risking, loving, and participating, we are weaving a pattern for understanding our spirituality."
The school of hard knocks may not be your choice of a classroom. It's not mine, either. But the lessons we learn in the desert classroom cannot be gained anywhere else.
Show me your ways, LORD; Teach me your paths. Psalm 25:4
Humility Illuminated: The Biblical Path Back to Christian Character by Dennis R. Edwards
