After the close of Alderwood Vineyard, a group of us stayed together to recover from the pain and loss we were feeling. We met on Sunday evenings. We sang songs, had different talks on processing pain and loss, and prayed for one another. For me, this was, once again, a time loaded with confusion about the church. How do you find so much peace, comfort, and joy in a community and then have it completely blown up? I love the church, yet, the church is full of so many broken people, myself included. Yet, I was not ready to give up on the church.

 

In 1994, I was a part of planting a new congregation with two couples. I continued work with my childhood abuse story, the predatory pastor, and his wife. In 1995, I was ordained by my church and set in as an associate pastor.

 

I love the work of the pastorate. The sacredness of moments with people as they welcome their new babies. I love officiating weddings and bearing witness to a new family being born. I love and cherish the sacredness of holding space as a loved one transitions from this life to the next. What an honor it is to observe a congregation practicing the power and presence of God.

 

I had been single for thirteen years when I met my husband, Rich. I first met him in the early 1980s. He was a visiting minister in the church the predatory pastor and his wife led. Fast forward to 1990, and he had come to Alderwood Vineyard just a few weeks before the church closed. I didn’t know him, but I knew of him.

 

We had a whirlwind courtship. I was afraid of what Rich would think when he discovered who I was. He knew the story of the predatory pastor but had heard it from the standpoint that I had ruined this man’s life. I was a “jezebel.” 

 

My fears were unfounded. Rich was reeling from the loss of his wife of thirty years. He had five children; the two youngest were living at home. We were married in December 1996. My son and daughter were the same age as Rich’s two youngest, his son and daughter.

 

Rich and I had decided we would not have children. We had seven between us. To our surprise, I found out I was pregnant that May. I will never forget it. We were away with another couple in Canon Beach. I woke up and felt queasy. I told Rich, “I think I might be pregnant.” He responded, “no way, you have just been under so much stress.” I knew my body, and I knew I was pregnant. I took an EPT early pregnancy test. All four of us focused, looking for any hint of pink. I saw a tinge. The rest of them didn’t think it counted. I insisted Rich go back to the store and get a different test. This time, there was no mistaking. I was definitely with child! 

 

It was Rich’s forty-ninth birthday! I was forty and was not emotionally prepared to have a new baby. I was in shock, and as embarrassing as this is, I thought being pregnant meant the lead pastor would fire me! So I called him, and like making a shameful confession, I told him I was pregnant, and if he needed me to quit, I would. So where on earth did this internalized patriarchy take root? Patriarchy is part of the air we breathe, especially in the ministry. Our son, the youngest of eight children, has been the joy of our lives—what an extraordinary gift.

 

In 1999, the lead pastor of our church resigned. So Rich and I stepped in as co-pastors. When the former pastor let Vineyard USA know he was stepping down, they asked who the lead pastor would be. At the time, I think there was only one other female lead pastor in the movement. So even though the office was told we would be co-lead pastors, we were put in the database with Rich as the lead pastor. 

 

The Vineyard did not have a category for female lead pastors or male and female co-lead pastors. Mind you. I had helped plant this church. This church ordained me. Rich had not been pastoring in our church until now, yet they listed him as the lead pastor. The Vineyard held a complementarian view of women in ministry. A complementarian view means women could not function in authority over men. They could not be pastors or elders in a church. Because Vineyard churches are autonomous, some churches, like ours, were beginning to allow women to be in senior levels of leadership. When I hear, “we allow women to…” I feel like a child. It is an insult to men and women to use that language for women in ministry. Demeaning women like this is how the patriarchy plays out even today.

 

The structure of Vineyard USA was that of a national director with staff in the national office, regional leaders who were also board members, and area leaders who were on the regional leaders’ team. The model that John and Carol Wimber, the board, and leadership were that of husband and wife working together. So, for instance, the board was all male. Wives attended board meetings and contributed to the conversations, but only the men were able to vote.

 

Vineyard USA did not recognize women’s ordination beyond their local church. Therefore, there were no female regional or area leaders. Women married to regional and area leaders may or may not have served alongside their husbands in these roles, but the males were recognized. In 2006, under the courageous leadership of Bert Waggoner, all of this changed, which will be for a future post.

 

There was never a question about me as our church’s lead pastor, along with Rich. When Rich and I and our team would go to Vineyard area meetings, we often felt like the outliers because we had a female pastor. On one occasion, Todd Hunter, our national director at the time, came to the area for a pastors and leaders meeting. There were probably 100-plus pastors and leaders in the room. Someone nudged me and said, “Rose, ask him when the Vineyard will recognize women’s ordination.” I responded, “no, someone else ask him.” I feared being seen as a radical feminist if I asked. They prodded me, so I asked. 

 

The uproar in the room was not what I expected, and I had expected some pushback. But, instead, people were angry at even the suggestion. I heard things like, “if the Vineyard goes that way, our church is out.” And “it is wrong for women to frame this as their right. We lay down our rights when we serve Jesus.” There was so much anger in the room that I felt ashamed and confused when we left and wondered if our church could stay in the Vineyard. It may have been that moment when I was labeled as the liberal feminist from Seattle. A description I would hear more and more through the years.

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