The Un-Dismissal of This Woman From ‘a’ Church

And Now She's Under Fire (not what you think)

Well, of course things have worked out … sort of. When I posted last, I had forgotten about the one person in the world who knows my true identity, who is also a subscriber, and who also attends my church.

Yeah. Upon discovery of my faux pas, I called her. I was not in a good frame of mind at the time, so I kept it short. I didn’t tell her either way whether she should read the email. I also declined her offer to discuss the issue because that’s not cool. When there’s an issue with someone, you go to the person. And no one else. Except for a bunch of subscribers who know nothing of the specific people involved in such written-about fiasco.

So the post went out. And, by the way, I publish to multiple platforms. One of those is quite active in sharing opinions, and most people there are kind in their candor. I got quite a response. There was only one opinion that challenged my capacity to put myself in the shoes of the other. I think I did pretty well on that one. It’s safe to say that they made no similar effort.

Anyway, you may remember it. I was complaining about being ignored … patronized, dismissed, disrespected by the leadership of my church … because I’m a woman. At least I assumed that was why.

On Tuesday, while driving back from my daughter's doctor appointment, my phone rang. It was the pastor. The timing was … interesting.

I didn’t answer it. I wasn’t ready. You see, I was completely disoriented; my picture of service had apparently been wrong … and the alternate reality appeared prohibitively restrictive and, even worse, prescriptive. I don’t do either very well; never have. I was angry and frustrated; not at any one person, but at … Forget it. I don’t even know.

At that point, I had already spent several days praying in my personal space, listening for God’s quiet whisper, desperate for an explanation and a clever path forward. Another way to serve. Another way to make the most of the time. And while I was in the middle of all that, I didn’t want to talk with anyone. I was deep into my intellection process.

I was also deep into my fear of rejection, reacting the way I always do – retreat!

I received a text message a few minutes after ignoring the call. It was the pastor. He said he would try again the next day.

Over the next 24 hours, there was a change. I remembered that, at the end of the day, it’s always only God and me. He has never left me, and I know He never will. He asked me again, “Do you trust Me?”

Of course I said yes, and as soon as I did, I heard this.

“Then prove it.”

I was ready. I would take the call the next day. A new peace emerged from within, and I was feeling hopefully curious. I knew that only God has say over the role I play. And whatever happened, I wouldn’t be alone.

The next day the phone rang as I was driving across the county. It was the pastor. This time I answered.

Okay, so I wasn’t as ready as I’d hoped. As soon as I answered, my shields went up. The first several minutes were awkward … mostly for him, not me. But we got through it. And then he told me how terrible he is at communicating; that he knew I might have felt ignored over the past several weeks.

“I did feel ignored,” I said.

“I’m sorry. So much came out of the day of prayer. So many people have come to me sharing how they want to know God more …”

Those words. Those were the words.

“That’s it! That’s the thing,” I said.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. I'm just really bad at communicating. But the response has been very positive. The elders want to use the model of the day of prayer for so many things.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But you're right. I’ve felt excluded. I figured it’s because I’m a woman.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, maybe.”

“Okay, I understand how things are. I don't like it, but I'd like to be included … I want to know what God is doing in response.”

“Yes, I know.

There was a pause.

"… I apologize.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

And straight-away he went to a different topic. He told me the elders had recently appointed a new director of women’s ministries. In the moment, I thought it was a good thing, but that it wouldn't really effect me.

“She’s going to need some help. I’m wondering if you would be her helper.”

I had no words, and I swear, it felt like the wind got knocked out of me. I protested. I told him I don’t fit the church lady profile. That church women don’t like me. That it’s too difficult for me.

As I was about to add one more objection to the list, I heard Someone clearing His throat.

Okay ... don't get whacked out. It's in my head. You know what I mean.

Anyway, then the pastor said, “Pray about it. I’ll introduce you to her. Maybe you two can go to lunch.”

“Okay, well I will, but I have to go now. I’m sitting in the parking lot and people are waiting for me inside.” Yeah, I said it. No one was waiting for me inside. I couldn't believe how quick the words got out and away from me. But here's the thing: my defense mechanisms do not take orders from me; they are a completely independent set of highly sophisticated shields - the stealth type. And they cause a lot of problems.

But here's the other thing ... my God is a consuming fire.

And things are getting pretty warm.