We Are Already Here

At the moment, I am flying high above the clouds across the country.  Out of this little oval window, I can see muddy river paths that look small and tamable.  The sun is splashing off this metal bird as we cut through haze and wisps of clouds.  If I just look out the window and see this giant world grow small and story-like, I could almost forget the twirling turmoil that sits in the pit of my stomach.  If I just look out the window and remember the grandeur of the God-made world and not focus on the shifting sands in my soul, I could forget the heaviness that is taking up the entire empty row beside me. 

I go between the window views and this flickering screen.  I have truth-music pouring through my earbuds, and it seems to be lifting my chin upwards and outwards slowly.  But this unsettledness rattles like a loose part not to be ignored. 

It has chased me my whole life. It is this pursuit, this calling that I can't seem to escape.  It is this deep rumble to follow Jesus with strength and voice.  It is my morning waking thoughts, my lunchtime conversation, and my evening whispered prayers.  It hovers in the air when I am walking, it swirls in the steam of the shower, and it's tucked in the fibers of my bed linens.  This rumble has sent me around the world and back again, chasing and loving, seeing and believing.  It has landed me in cathedrals in Europe, outdoor worship in Cuba, and lakeside tents in Russia.  It has driven me through the pages of scripture, now overly marked and worn by a lifetime of study.  It never dims, it never ceases, it never evades me. 

But year after year, someone is debating the validity of my presence.  Someone is sending me lists of "can'ts."  Someone is privately messaging me about limitations and lines that should not be crossed.  I have never held the title, Pastor.  I have never asked to.  I have never attempted to "usurp" authority. I have never pastored a church, and I never intend to. But this list, this constant reminder, has followed me across the world, across denominations, across decades.  It isn't just me. It's countless women that can't shake the holy stirring in their souls to keep telling the story of redemption wherever we can.  We are strong, we are gracious, but we are not invincible.  We've been debated in rooms and forums like we are foes.  We ache deeply from the confusion and the hurt. 

Many of us sat in Sunday schools, went to church camps, and enrolled in seminary.  As a child, we were told that God had a plan for our lives.  Our pastors and our teachers taught us to listen to His still, small voice.  Our youth leaders showed us how to trust in Christ and have faith that He will equip us to do what He calls us to.  We heard the stories of missionaries.  We understood the Great Commission.  We believed Jesus. We followed Him.

But then we grew up.  Now, we are women and not girls. The narrative changed as we charged from children to women.  Great debates, votes, and arguments are had by men in councils and rooms and forums about us.  What do we do with these women, these once-upon-a-time girls, we told to trust God and follow Him, what now?

Now, I am all for theological integrity, and someday I will share my deep work on the subject of women in the church.  But today, I am simply being vulnerable and telling the story that repeats decade after decade.  This is the story of women empowered by the Holy Spirit to do the work of reaching the world for Christ but encountering every man-made hurdle.  

Here is the truth. We are already here.  We are in the arena.  Sisters in Christ worldwide and through the decades have routinely shown up and served Jesus with excellence.  There is no debating or voting on the validity of women doing the work of Christ.  The Bible tells our stories, history tells our stories, and we tell our stories.  We, women of faith, equipped and empowered by the Holy Spirit to bring others into the family of Christ, are already here.  We are not disappearing. You invited us here when we were children.  We heard, we believed, and we came ready to serve.

We are your sisters in faith, not your enemies.  We are women, women that birth babies and birth ministries.  We show up pre-dawn and ready ourselves, our classrooms, our families, workplaces, and our churches.  We set the table, study the Word, make meals, and make glad the saints' hearts.  We experience leading people to Christ. We see His hand at work in our work.  We women, we are here, teaching and sharing the truth of Salvation. We cross the globe. We live in huts, apartments, and houses of all shapes and sizes.  Some of us marry, some of us don't.  Some of us are quiet, some of us are loud.  Some of us cross cultures, some of us cross our hometown.   

These debates and votes, these arguments and stances, often play out in rooms where women are present, yet not even seen.  They are held on platforms that rarely get our voice.  Yet, our voices still cry out to our people, our towns, our communities that Jesus loves them.  We are already here, already shepherding hearts towards Jesus.

While there are certainly times and places for debate, policy, and uniformity, we must not forget that discipleship comes with no barriers.  We must remember this family of believers, this church we all serve, is united in Christ.  What time we have wasted listing the "can'ts" while people are hurting and dying all around us. I am here for the cans.  What can I do to lead others to the One that saves souls?

Speaking only for myself, this rumble, this calling to serve Jesus and follow Him open-handed, has never been about title or platform.  Truthfully, I have spent more time asking God, "are you sure about this?" than I have spent blazing any trails.  Oh, me of little faith! Yet somehow, He has continued to walk me through doors for His name's sake.  He continues to use the work of my hands and heart. I have not always gone willingly in every direction He has led me.  But I have come to trust Him so deeply that my questions sit quietly in His hands as I press on toward the work He asks me to do.   

I remind myself of my sisters in faith across the generations, the Scriptures, and the world.  We, who dare to believe this Redeemer to be breaking chains, would use us along the way. We are so compelled that we leave our "nets," and we follow Him. When I am asked to speak, I speak.  When I am asked to write, I write.  When I am asked to pray, I pray. When I am asked to lead, I lead. It really is that simple.

Regardless of title, decisions, platforms, or whatever one might want to discuss, women of faith with conviction and calling are already here and have been for ages. We will always be here.  See that is the thing about the Light.  It pours through the cracks and can't be contained.  The light of Christ in your sisters of faith seeps through the smallest fissures and pushes back the darkness with or without title, with or without a platform.  The Light permeates the darkness without permission. And, The Light of the World isn't containable. It lacks human labels.  It simply can't be restrained. 

I have complete security at this point in life, knowing that nothing declared by humans can stop the Light of Christ in me.  As God calls, I will follow.  I can't help but not to.  He is too good, too persuasive, too convicting. And He asks for it all;  my life, my gifts, my work.  I resist the urge to clinch my hands closed.  I peel back my fingers as a woman of God, lift my hands to the heavens as I hear those words that Mordecai gave to Esther, and I nod.  For such a time as this, I will show up in any way I am asked. God will work with or without me, but I choose to engage with this assignment. Call it by any name you please.  My sisters and I, we know it is our duty and our pleasure to serve the King.  We are already here, and we always will be, letting the Light inside us push back the darkness until only Jesus calls us home.