“No, you cannot apply for that position. That is reserved only for men.”
These words were spoken to me when I tried to apply for head intern at a Summer camp. I had lived at this camp for ten years with my family. I grew up there. I was told I could do or be anything I wanted. I was encouraged to use my leadership skills and my gift for communication. I was constantly lifted up and praised for the work that I did for God’s Kingdom.
Then, the Summer after my freshman year of college, I chose to work as an intern at the camp. It was a wonderful Summer. I grew and learned a lot. I exceeded all of the expectations and I rose up as a leader among the interns. The following Summer, I wanted to return to the camp, but as the head intern. It was clear to me that this was the natural next step. And that is when I was told I could not even apply…that I would not even be considered because I am a woman. That is the first time I realized that the church, the people I was supposed to trust the most, was lying to me. I couldn’t do anything I wanted to…there were some locked doors.
After this experience, I kept my distance from that ministry but I wasn’t ready to give up on God, to give up on the person of Jesus. Because when I read the gospels, I encountered a man who saw and validated women. And it didn’t make sense to me that Jesus would lock women out of any doors. So I began to study and to ask questions. I read articles and talked to women leaders. I discovered that there is a whole group of Christians who affirm women in all levels of leadership and still love God, scripture, and the church. So I said, “Enough! I will no longer tolerate the patriarchal oppression that has kept me away from God’s call!”
I found freedom.
And I found a church that, on paper, fully affirmed women becoming leaders and pastors of churches. I encountered a pastor who welcomed me in, who affirmed my gifts as a leader and a communicator. I was encouraged to be and do whatever I felt called to.
I fell in love with this community so much so that when my husband and I were asked to take over as pastors, we said yes. I was honored and excited to step into this role. But what I was not ready for was the “soft patriarchy” that I would experience as leader of this church. I thought I had left the toxic patriarchy behind, but I was wrong. And because it was subtle, it was more difficult to express and to call out.
I experienced it when we had a conversation about who the president of the board should be. There were concerns that having me, a woman, as president would cause discomfort to some congregants. I experienced it every time my role was debated. Was my leadership an asset or a liability to the community? It was in the constant questions about the content of my sermons. It was in the policing of what I wore on the stage. I witnessed it when people would direct questions to my husband rather than to me, or assume I didn’t have the answers.
This was not the warm welcome I was expecting. And I was not ready for it. So I contorted to the expectations thrust on me by my “egalitarian” church. I made myself small enough to keep everyone comfortable. I lowered my voice and subjected myself to the condescending voices of those who were supposed to support me. And it was painful.
After about four years of this constant game of acrobatics, something shifted. I finally said “Enough!”
I am not sure what exactly caused the change. Perhaps the contortions and shrinking were getting too painful. Perhaps it was because I began a well-being program that had an amazing support system. Perhaps it was because we started experiencing the beginnings of a church split. It was likely a combination of all of this, but I could no longer hold the tension.
So I slowly began to release others’ expectations of me. I began to do the hard internal work to dismantle my own internalized oppression. I began to recognize the lies of rejection in my mind, the ones that said I was not enough and that I would never be enough. I began to replace those lies with the truth: that God created and called me to the work of pastoring. And that I am fully equipped to do this work. I am enough. I am more than enough.
And even though I heard that rejection over 20 years ago, the words still sometimes echo in my head even today. They haunt me every time a door is closed in my face. Every time I am told that I am not enough…or too much. And I know that I am not the only woman to hear these words. That is why I write; that is why I do the work to fight the patriarchy. I do it to let you know you are not alone. You do not need to shrink or grow or contort for others.
Beloved. You are more than enough. Walk confidently into your calling.
To learn more about Melody and her work, click here.
