Tag Archives: women

The Price Women Pay

By Heather L Hart | Originally published 10.16.24 via Scot McKnight’s substack

Reviewing Chapter 6 of Confronting Sexism in the Church by Heather Matthews

I grabbed the bag of steaming cinnamon-sugar churros and held out my hand for change. The street vendor dropped a few shiny coins into my palm. I happily ate my sugary snack and rolled those coins around between my fingers. This was my first trip to Mexico and as a teenager, my mind was full of wonder at the food, the people, even the money.

Those pesos found a home in an over-stuffed drawer when I returned home and eventually kept company with other miscellaneous international currency from my travels. Every so often I’d look through that stash of money and wonder what to do with it. It was real money, but no store in my town would let me purchase anything with it. It had monetary value, but it wasn’t what my local grocery store wanted.

            Being a woman in evangelical spaces is a little like that. You might have valuable gifts, but many churches don’t want them. Or at best, they’ll let you buy some canned soup with your female money, but the steaks? Those are reserved for men.

            In Heather Matthews’ book Confronting Sexism in the Church, Chapter 6 is titled The Price Women Pay. She delves into the lived experience of women, who want to contribute to the church, and yet find themselves discounted, sidelined, belittled, and devalued because their femaleness does not align with specific ideas about gender and spiritual gifting. In other words, their money isn’t wanted at this store. Go shop somewhere else. Or if you women are still desperate to participate in the church, you are more than welcome to contort your gifting into something different and spend it on a handful of pre-approved subservient, dream-inhibiting, calling-subverting, expertise-impeding, male-elevating roles. It will take all the money you’ve got; there will be nothing left at the end.

            What a deal.

            What has this looked like in my own life? It’s looked like being a model leader in the high school youth group, but never having it be called “leading.” Though I was an active participant in every youth activity offered, I was never asked if I’d considered ministry as a calling. Was never guided into mentor relationships to help me discern my future. Was never being asked to consider preaching at the annual youth service. My money was invisible.

            As a young adult it’s meant I’ve seen the Spirit spontaneously move through my words and relationships and create an informal ministry where none previously existed. And instead of being approached and offered support on how to guide this gathering, church leadership saw it and handed it to a male pastor.

            It’s meant that as an adult nearly every co-ed class or small group I’ve “facilitated” I’ve had to answer affirmatively that my husband would be physically present with me or that I would have a male authority overseeing me. It even means that I’ve participated in nationally franchised Bible studies, in women-only groups, and been informed I would only be considered for a leadership role if my husband granted permission.

            The one position I was regularly offered, with no husband’s presence or male-oversight needed, was in church childcare. Repeatedly, this was suggested for me. Often, I took it. Educating children in the faith is no small task, and one I hope no church takes lightly, but with experience I recognize that it is not my unique gifting. I love kids, particularly my own, but I see how the Spirit moves around me and thanks to insightful friends and family, I see confirmation of my gifts in other areas.

            Matthews’ points to studies showing that acceptance of traditionalist male and female gender responsibilities correlates with a woman’s inability to recognize “her own capacity for leadership, which makes it even less likely that a woman will pursue leadership in the church. When women’s unique strengths and passions are not identified and affirmed, women’s sense of identity and discernment of calling are greatly hindered.” (p.90) Women gifted in leading, teaching, preaching, pastoring, anything deemed remotely “masculine” by traditionalists, often find themselves serving outside of a congregational setting. When the church won’t take your money, you’ll find somewhere else to spend it.

            Looking through the rearview mirror at my spiritual opportunities can often feel like a succession of brake lights. But thankfully there have been bright spots. Women pastors who showed me what it’s like to have a woman preach the word. Male pastors who offered mentoring & leadership opportunities. Local co-ed Bible studies where they affirmed my gifts. While the work to dismantle sexism in the church can feel like continual knocking on barred doors, the Spirit is generous and powerful, seeing women and cracking locks in unexpected ways. I’ll take that deal.

Holding My Breath

By Heather L Hart | Originally Published 9.4.24 via Scot McKnight’s substack

Reviewing Chapter 2 of Confronting Sexism in the Church

“No hard feelings, right?” she sighed, avoiding my eyes.

At that moment, Dear Reader, the simmering feelings I had did indeed begin to harden.

My friend had come on the adult mission trip that I organized, participated in my pre-trip cross-cultural flexibility training, and then one night when the female missionary ushered us into her common room to give our coed group a Bible teaching, my friend abruptly stood-up and silently left the room. Several others from our group did the same, again without speaking.

They left because the missionary was a woman teaching men.

At the time, I shared their theology of gender but this behavior shocked me. Surely, we could be a little adaptable in a different context? I sat stunned, disbelief coursing through me, unsure of how to salvage the situation. Our team included one of our pastors who sat in the back and watched this unfold, offering no guidance to me or our group. When a pause came in the talk, he proceeded to have a quiet aside with the missionary, clarifying why people had left the room. If she had wondered about the abrupt exits, now she knew the reason with certainty: it was her gender that was the problem, not the content of her teaching.

These moments confused me on multiple levels, and I did not have the skills to understand them or the tools to deal with them. My friend’s complete and casual dismissal of my feelings struck me as bizarre; instead, I gave myself space to explore everything I felt. I let a wide range of feelings bubble; I let them solidify, becoming rocks I could hold in my hand.

One of my largest rocks was shame: shame at the way we treated the missionary, shame that I didn’t know how to handle the situation, shame that I was a woman who would be walked out on too. I felt tormented by my own faith, the center point of my life, that it would dismiss and devalue me because of my gender. I was disappointed in myself. I felt alienation in friendship. I felt abandoned by leadership. Later, I would experience exasperation when I realized that I had been taught only one very narrow and specific interpretation of “Biblical” gender; an interpretation that a respected Christian scholar at the local evangelical seminary that my pastors graduated from, a member of our own church’s elder board, actively pushed against. I picked up these rocks and turned them over, looking at them from all sides. I held them up next to my Bible. I held them up like a mirror. Something was thoroughly broken, but what?

Chapter 1 of Heather Mattews’ book, Confronting Sexism in the Church, names the sharp edges of sexism in the church as beliefs and practices that prevent women from flourishing; beliefs and practices that instead bring harm. Women are minimized, restricted, and silenced due to their gender. When women are wounded by the church, we need to understand what cut them; we need to know what is broken.

In Chapter 2, Matthews explores what is broken. She helpfully acknowledges that when you’ve grown up inhaling the smoke of sexism, breathing clean air may not feel natural. You’ve likely been taught to downplay or ignore your feelings. She points to the smoke enveloping my mission trip and gives insight into my experience. If sexism in the church stems from the belief that women are not made in the image of God to the same degree as men and therefore, must be limited in roles and activities, Matthews asks what is it like when women encounter that in daily life? Her list is not exhaustive, but it brought clarity to my situation and many others.

It looks like the wounds women’s experiences often being overlooked because leaders aren’t affected personally. (“It’s not that big of a deal.”)

It looks like a lack of education on gender and the range of theological views surrounding it. (“We teach a plain reading of scripture.”)

It looks like the assumption that opportunities are equal and privilege doesn’t exist. (“I don’t see gender; I focus on the person.”)

It looks like the overt refusal to listen to women. (“Why would a woman go to seminary?”)

It looks like women being touched inappropriately. (“I’m sorry, but I’m human!”)

It looks like veiled restrictions on women, ostensibly for their own benefit. (“We want to avoid impropriety: men should not mentor women one-on-one.”)

It looks like microaggressions. (“This position is part-time.”)

It looks like mansplaining. (*interrupting* “What I’m saying is…”)

It looks like gendered stereotypes. (“Women are just better at cooking, cleaning, and childcare—they enjoy it.”)

It looks like androcentrism. (“We don’t a need maternity leave policy.”)

I’m sure your wife, daughter, sister, friend could list experiences too. We need education and engagement to understand how good aspects of the church have been intertwined with sexism. Most of the churches I’ve attended did not have the insight or the tools to help disentangle these experiences for me. Most of my work on disentanglement I did on my own or with a thoughtful group of students and professors when I attended seminary.

I didn’t want to read Matthews’ book.

I didn’t want to revisit the painful memories of this trip or a thousand other times when my gender has relegated me to a second-class position. I’d acknowledged these situations and put in the work to grow beyond them, can’t I be done thinking about this?

No, I can’t. Because I still encounter these situations. The smoke still swirls. And I know there are other girls and women sitting shell-shocked in the midst of a confusing situation where they don’t have the tools to understand what just happened. Matthews’ book can help. Women need to know there’s a better way. They need to know that it’s OK to have hard feelings. They need to know they can take time to examine each rock, one by one.

The rocks are not the problem. The smoke is.