The Dismissal of This Woman by the Church

Can we talk? I mean really talk.

On the way to last night’s Good Friday service, I received an email. It was like a fiery dart to my heart. I’m pretty sure the writer thought nothing of it, and doesn’t realize the total wrongness of his chosen words and phrases. Total wrongness … I kind of like that phrase.

Anyway, I didn’t share it with my husband until we got home from the service. Without telling him anything about it beforehand, he was taken aback. It was both a surprise and a relief to me. He’s a pretty chill guy, void of emotional intensity unless the topic involves the SF Giants. So, his reaction felt like support … much needed in the moment.

He said, “This feels the same.”

I agreed. It does feel the same.

I’m talking about being a woman in the church. A woman who has had a successful career over many decades in a space dominated by males; a space that is extremely competitive. I’ve had more than one senior partner meet me, aware of me only by reputation, look me in the eye and nearly crush my hand as we shook. Not kidding. What they didn’t know is that I’d had lots or practice with a father who indulged in fits of rage; fits that often left me with several bruises and once a broken nose. So for the overly-tall perfectly coifed-headed suits, intimidation tactics became almost like sport to me.

Okay, I’m not flexing any muscles or anything. I’m just telling you that people look at me and say I’m “confident,” the word they use when they really mean arrogant or egotistical. Yeah.

I’m not. Oh, contra-re. But my demeanor is a product of my upbringing and refined by my profession. There’s really not much I can do about it a this point. I am who I am. If I could change my aura or whatever the heck the problem is to make others more comfortable, I certainly would, but so far I got nothing. Oh yeah, I tried a therapist, but she told me she’d rather be my friend and then every session thereafter was about her. I tolerated it because she made me laugh, and then she suddenly decided to rent a U-Haul and move to Michigan.

Any-who, getting back to last night’s email. You’re probably wondering what it felt the same as, right? Okay here goes. And to spare you the tedium of my life’s odd patterns, I’ll offer only a few examples.

About twenty years ago, my husband and I moved our family to a different county. We had actually met at church, gotten married, and been serving in church leadership roles for about ten years. I was asked to serve on finance committees, develop tech solutions, lead group studies … you name it. Not once did I sense any kind of bias against me because I’m a woman. I always had lots of opportunities.

After the move, everything changed. Here’s how it went:

Church #1: My husband was a stay at home dad. I was working in the industry. One Sunday, the mother of the pastor approached and introduced herself, asked me about our situation, and I told her a little bit. At the part about me working instead of my husband, she walked away. The following Sunday I was approached by one of the musicians on the worship team, asking me, “Why don’t you want to stay home and take care of your children?” I had no response, stunned at the audacity to ask such a question. There was a lot more to our story than anyone was interested in knowing, and at that point, I wasn’t about to share anything more of our life.

After that, I felt shunned. My husband noticed, but I was less concerned. Really, not having ever experienced that kind of treatment before, I didn’t know how to respond. I tried to stay positive. And then one day my dear co-worker, Allie, told me I needed to get out of there. That they weren’t treating me right. That’s when I finally woke up.

Church #2: We walked into Church #2 and I felt it right away. I was home. It was the perfect place for us, or so it seemed. We were there for many years, involved in leadership here and there, which was great, yet I wanted more opportunities to serve. The thing was, I was still the sole provider in the family, and had just started another new firm … so my involvement at church was very limited. That was okay though … I had my long-vision eye on retirement and figured I’d be able to contribute more once my husband and I switched roles, and I was home with our kids.

It didn’t work out that way.

Toward the end of our time there, and after leading a twelve week course on spiritual disciplines, I had a discussion with the pastor. I thought we would talk about what’s next. Not to be.

“You’ve been put in a box,” he said.

“Pardon me?” I asked.

“You’ve been put in a box. They (the leadership of women’s ministries) can’t figure you out.”

I laughed, assuming he must be joking. He wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, but they don’t understand where you’re coming from …”

His voice became like Charlie Browns’ teacher’s voice as I recognized that what he was telling me was true. I’d experienced it first hand. The women’s ministry leader had tried to make me her “project,” meeting me for breakfast several times, then having me meet her at her office to discuss something else. Turned out, it was about how I could be more friendly, including tips from Oprah about body language (the whole match the other person’s posture thing). She said I would soon be asked to speak... and it was important to prepare myself for the role (she was a fan of my blog at the time – not so much of me in person … apparently).

I remember immediately going home and writing a hilarious blog post about the body language lesson and how I was mimicking her body language during the entire lesson, with all sorts of references to double mirror infinity images and stuff like that. I thought it was funny.

She? Not so much.

So yeah. The church ladies in power didn’t want me rocking their comfortable boat, at least not as the person I was. I would have to change; mirror back to then what they wanted to believe about themselves. So human of them. Damn it.

Church #3: This one is quick. The pastor was a narcissist, with his wife not far behind.

And then COVID hit and we watched online church streamed by a Messianic Church in Macon, Georgia.

Church #4: This one is a fresh wound, so I don’t think I can distance enough for details. I’ll just give you the upshot. I’ve been wanting to hold a Day of Prayer event; a prayer event composed of eight different times over a 24 hour period when the people stop and pray. After getting some encouragement from a good friend, I proposed the idea to the pastor. He was all for it, and very excited. He had wanted to do something different to seek God’s guidance for the year ahead, and the Day of Prayer would be perfect.

I couldn’t believe it. All of my efforts with other churches had been met with fear and stonewalling, sprinkled with remarks like, “We don’t pray like that.” So when the pastor gave the nod, I was stoked.

Over the next few weeks, I prepared what some would call a liturgy or guide for each of the eight hours. It was an amazing experience; one where you know it’s not you who's doing the work. God is giving you each piece of the liturgy as you go, wordings that fit the personality of the hour, hymns that flow with the mood, Psalms and scripture readings that seem to present themselves. I was in His flow, and it was awesome.

As an indie author, I have a fair amount of experience in publishing software, which helped in the production of a really nice guide. That guide was later provided to all of the participants for use during both the event and at home.

Yes, it was great, but the process wasn’t perfect or without irritations. The communications were terrible. I rarely received responses to my emails, key dates for production were fuzzy, my recommendations for logistics on the day-of were ignored, etc. But I kept going, keeping my eye on the day.

The actual day was amazing. I attended five of the times myself.

The sense of God’s presence was palpable throughout.

But for some reason, I felt like the pastor was avoiding me.

About two weeks after the event, I sent the pastor an email asking if they’d received any guidance for the year, new ideas for ministry, etc. The whole day was being held under the guise of asking God for guidance, so I wanted to know if they had received any.

No response.

Another three weeks passes, and last night I get an email right before the start of the Good Friday service. I won’t tell you what it said. I’ll just tell you what my husband said.

As he read it, he mutters, “Oh, that’s good … oh … hmm. That’s not good. Dismissive.”

I nodded.

He looked at me and said, “This feels the same.”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head. “It’s patronizing … disrespectful.” He shook he head again. I could tell his mind was racing.

“My heart is broken.”

“Yes, I feel it. Mine is too.”

We talked about it this morning. I’m torn. He wants to go talk with the pastor and ask him what’s going on. I don’t know if he should or not. I’ve been through this too many times now to entertain false hopes.

But don’t you think this is sad? I do. I know a lot of women like myself; women who don’t fit the church-lady profile (whatever that is), but who absolutely love God and want to serve Him. Women who come from my background have a lot to offer. I have a lot to offer, and I want to. But the church keeps slamming the door in my face.

What is up with that? Really … what in hell is up with that?