Domestic Disturbance

     Maybe you’ve heard this story. It’s found in Luke 10. It takes place while Jesus was visiting the home of a woman named Martha (other gospels suggest she shared the home with her brother and sister, Lazarus and Mary). While Martha was busy in the kitchen preparing a meal, Jesus was teaching in what we might call the living room. Mary, according to one version, “… sat before the Master, hanging on every word he said.” 

    If read this story as twenty-first century westerners, we might miss something significant. Jesus was teaching Mary. 

    Back in 1983, Barbra Streisand played the title role in a movie called Yentl. It was the story of a young Jewish woman in Eastern Europe a little before the beginning of the Twentieth Century. Yentl’s father, a rabbi, had broken tradition and taught his only child the Torah, despite the notion that such learning wasn’t for females. After his death, Yentl wanted to learn even more; but, of course, women were not allowed to study the Torah. So, Yentl, disguising herself as a young man, enrolled in a rabbinical school. The story is touching, and the situation inspires humor, especially as Yentl finds herself attracted to another student. Yentl’s story reflects attitudes very much present in first century Judaism. In short, many rabbis said women were incapable of learning, that teaching them was a waste of time. For Jesus to teach Mary and the other women who were his followers was revolutionary. Though Luke doesn’t tell us, it is quite possible other women were present. Jesus’s attitude toward women marked the beginning of something novel and liberating. 

    Now, back to the story.

    At some point Martha had enough, so she fumed out of the kitchen to declare, “Master, I am slaving away in that kitchen and Mary is in here doing nothing.”

    To this Jesus, responds, “O Martha, you are fussing too much. Sandwiches would be just fine. Besides, Mary has her priorities straight. Why don’t you join her?” (Please note, this is a somewhat free paraphrase.)

    Usually, the story of Mary and Martha is cited to remind us of the danger of allowing “busyness” to cause us to neglect our opportunities for spiritual growth. Some writers even suggest there are “Marys” among us and “Marthas” among us: the Marthas must be on guard against neglecting their spiritual nurture; the Marys must continue to “sit at Jesus’s feet” while never using that as an excuse to neglect the truly essential duties found in a church community. Both the Marys and the Marthas need balance. I think these are proper lessons to be drawn from Luke’s glimpse into the women’s lives. But I wonder if there might be a further insight into human nature to be discovered. 

    As you know, both congregations I have served were involved, either directly or tangentially, in the debate over whether a woman may serve as a deacon in her church. In each church there were at least a few women who held an opinion I find curious. That opinion was best expressed by a woman in my Texas congregation. When the subject of women serving as deacons came up, she said, “No real woman would want to be a deacon.” Again, I found the same opinion expressed in Ohio, though never expressed in quite so compact terms.

    I don’t think this opinion was rooted in their Biblical exegesis. Nor was it a way to say, “I don’t want to be a deacon.” Very clearly, they didn’t want any woman to have access to the deaconate. I eventually found that some women held similar views about women preaching.

    What is up with that? I’m not sure I know, but recently I’ve begun to wonder if this old story of Martha and Mary might offer some insight.

    Spoiler Alert: The following is speculative. I would hardly suggest Luke was intending to say what I am about to say. Still, if we assume those who populate the pages of the Bible were real people, perhaps some of the following is not too far-fetched.

    Is it possible Martha saw things were changing, that Jesus was introducing a new way to look at women, a way that honored rather than suppressed their gifts? Could Martha have seen that new opportunities and responsibilities would be opening to her and other women? Might Martha have realized she could no longer sit back to wait for a man to address a new challenge, realized she would have to woman-up when a job needed to be done?

    Liz, the woman whose declaration regarding “real women” so piqued my curiosity, had a lot of influence in the church, despite having no title. Her husband was a deacon. It was often clear Roy was bringing Liz’s ideas to the deacons’ meetings. If her suggestions were accepted, and were successful, Roy gallantly admitted it was his wife’s idea. If the suggestion failed, with equal gallantry, Roy kept quiet about the idea’s true source. Liz won either way.

    I suspect most women would gladly have their talents and gifts honored; yet, some women, like some men, don’t want to serve. Most such men don’t mind telling a nominating committee “No” when asked if they will serve. Still, I’m sure some would like to say, “I want to serve, but I’m not allowed.” And, of course, some women, like some men, prefer to pull strings like a puppeteer who remains out of sight of the audience, wielding influence without garnering criticism. 

    As long as we place restrictions on the kinds of ministry women can do, limit their freedom to say, “Yes,” we make those who cherish the old way of doing things happy and comfortable. Yet, we also fail to allow gifted women to use their talents for the Kingdom; more important, we fail to follow Jesus’s revolutionary example.

Lesson Learned: Don't leave your snow shovel behind.

As you may have heard we had unusually cold and icy weather here for the past week or so. Trees and wires are coated with ice. Roads are hazardous. Whereas Ohio’s Franklin County has a fleet of snowplows, Texas’s Williamson County has none. Anyway, here’s the story. Or, at least, the prologue to the story.

Very early Saturday morning (2/13) we lost our power—something of a problem in an all-electric house.

A little later, Pat called David and Kelly to tell them we had lost our power and they asked if there was anything they could do. David specifically asked if we needed coffee—important to his morning ritual. I told them we were okay and not to worry. Anyway, about 8:30 an Uber driver left a 12-cup carafe of Starbucks at our door. (We had restored power by that time.)

I quickly had a cup and texted a thank you to David and Kelly. About three hours later David called to say he had just seen the text and that they hadn’t sent any coffee. Somewhere in the neighborhood someone went without their morning coffee. I hope the deprived souls managed without their morning boost. There remains no clue who was supposed to receive the coffee.

Sunday was fine, although there were ominous warnings of bad weather to come. Sure enough, about 3:00 Monday morning we lost our power. Come dawn we had six to eight inches of snow. And our snow shovel was safely back in Ohio. 

Although, we were promised the power would soon be restored, we were without electricity until Thursday noon. 

Outside, temperatures dropped to single digits on some days. Inside, it grew colder and colder, in the upper thirties at one point. We wore layers. We had tuna and peanut butter, occasionally indulging in M&Ms, things we could eat without a stove. It was too icy to drive and the grocery stores were closed anyway. During this time, we read (using the dwindling power of our iPhones) about a homeless woman in Austin who gave birth outside and was found trying to keep the newborn warm in a sleeping bag. We will keep complaining about the situation, but we will try to keep perspective.

When there was no electricity to power the pumping stations, many lost their water, along with their electricity. Some with water (but no power) were told to boil their water. No stove, no problem—just use your camp stove. I’m glad we never received a boil order. Since my idea of “roughin’ it” means turning the electric blanket down to three, we don’t have a camp stove.

At one point we drained the power from this very laptop to charge a phone. We hoped for an update, only to hear how Bette Midler suggested God was punishing Texas for Ted Cruz. Apparently, people love to hate Texas—I knew that before our sojourn in Ohio and now that we’ve moved back, I see it’s still true. This, though the road from the Golden State to the Lone Star State seems to be far more crowded one direction than the other. But I digress.

Still, I hope some out there hear stories like this.

Hear how some Austin restaurants gave away free food during the crisis.

Hear how one couple put out the word on the neighborhood blog that if anyone without water would put empty jugs on their porch, they would fill them and put them back on the porch while they waited in their cars. Thus, helping neighbors while maintaining safe distancing.

Hear about the EMT who came off a 24-hour shift and began shoveling snow from his older neighbors’ driveways.

Hear how Christians from all over the nation and every place on the political spectrum were praying for Texas. We thank God and those who braved the cold to fix broken lines that our lights came on yesterday.

I’m sure we will hear about more of these heroes.  Now, these folks who gave away food, water, and time didn’t ask if those they were helping were Democrat or Republican. They just knew a neighbor needed help and that they could give that help. Seems like a good way to live; but maybe I’m naïve. 

There were times during the past four days I found myself saying, “Hey, let’s get the power on, then start pointing fingers.” Made sense to me, but maybe that’s further evidence of chronic naïveté.  

As a pastor I’ve spent years fighting the nonsense behind Bette Midler’s remarks. Funny, how someone saying “Katrina was God’s punishment for gay marriage” is a bigot; but a Hollywood type saying “God was punishing Texas for Ted Cruz” is clever. I pastored in Texas for years, I know its people are both admirable and flawed. 

So, I will respond to Midler and her gang by citing the words spoken by the great Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets: “Sell crazy someplace else. We're all stocked up here.”

Amanda Smith: From Washerwoman to International Evangelist

    In recognition of Black History Month, I’ve extracted this material from The Place Accorded of Old, my book on women in ministry. Some of our nation’s best known African Americans are preachers and pastors—Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., Rev. Al Sharpton, Rev. T. D. Jakes, and others. This woman was never allowed that lofty title, but her ministry was powerful.

    Amanda Berry Smith (1837-1915) was an effective African American evangelist during the latter half of the nineteenth century. Indeed, after ministering on four continents, she would surely be considered an effective evangelist whether black or white, male or female. 

    Amanda was born as a slave in Maryland, but her father was able to buy the family’s freedom while Amanda was still a child.  Amanda’s mother and grandmother were ardent believers and, despite their status as slaves, they boldly witnessed to their master’s children, especially his young daughter. Amanda recalled how her mother told about encouraging the “young mistress” to give attention to her soul. Their appeals were so effective the girl announced she wished to go to “the colored people’s church.” Her parents, of course, refused and even insisted she have no more contact with the two servants, but the young woman conspired to secretly meet with the older women for prayer. 

    Despite living with her own “Lois and Eunice,” Amanda was not converted until she was almost twenty. It was March 1856; she was now married and working as a washwoman. Apparently, she had been in spiritual distress for some time, seeking peace only to have it elude her. She tells the story in her autobiography.

I was sitting in the kitchen by my ironing table, thinking it all over. The Devil seemed to say to me (I know now it was he), ‘You have prayed to be converted.’

I said, ‘Yes.’

“You have been sincere.”

“Yes.”

“You have been in earnest.”

“Yes.”

“You have read your Bible, and you have fasted, and you really want to be converted.” [Despite having little formal education Amanda could read.]

“Yes, Lord. Thou knowest it; Thou knowest my heart, I really want to be converted.”

The Satan said, “Well, if God were going to convert you He would have done it long ago; He does his work quick, and with all your sincerity God had not converted you.”

“Yes that is so.”

“You might as well give it up, then” he said, “it is no use, He won’t hear you.”

    Amanda reluctantly agrees and supposes she will be “damned.” But she seemed to hear a voice whispering, “Pray once more.” She decided to pray one more time despite seeming to hear another voice saying, “Don’t you do it.” She responded defiantly, “Yes, I will.” 

And when I said, “Yes, I will,” it seemed to me the emphasis was on the will,” and I felt it from the crown of my head clear through me, “I WILL,” and I got on my feet and said, “I will pray once more, and it there is any such thing as salvation, I am determined to have it this afternoon or die.”

She put bread and butter on the table; knowing the young daughter of the house could finish dinner if she were still praying or they had found her dead. She went to the cellar to pray. She began to pray earnestly, continuing to seek salvation. Finally,

…somehow I seemed to get to the end of everything. I did not know what else to say or do. Then in my desperation I looked up and said, “O, Lord, if Thou wilt help me I will believe Thee,” and in that act of telling God that I would, I did. O, the peace and joy that flooded my soul!  The burden rolled away; I felt it when it left me, and a flood of light and joy swept through my soul such as I had never known before. 

    Thus, began a pilgrimage that would involve her ministering on four continents as an evangelist. Her story recalls how in eighteenth-century America men and women never expected conversion to either quick or easy. Most believed the transformation only came after a struggle.

    Amanda had married Calvin Devine in 1854. Devine was only a nominal Christian, claiming faith only “for his mother’s sake.” In Amanda’s words, “He could talk on the subject of religion very sensibly at times; but when strong drink would get the better of him, which I am very sorry to say was quite often, then be was very profane and unreasonable.”  She had not known he was a heavy drinker; if she had, she might not have married him. This experience may have fired her interest in the temperance cause along with the holiness message in her ministry. Eventually, the couple separated. Devine was killed in the Civil War fighting for the Union side. Amanda moved to Philadelphia where she married James Smith, a deacon at the Bethel African Methodist Church.   Sometime after marrying Smith, the couple moved to New York City. There, Amanda began attending Phoebe Palmer’s Tuesday Meetings. 

    According to Bettye Collier-Thomas, James Smith, despite being a deacon, was an abusive husband. Amanda sought counsel from a woman who advised her to seek God for “enduring grace,” apparently a God-given capacity to graciously accept her situation. This grace, Amanda concluded, would be the product of sanctification. 

    The experience came in September 1868 when she visited the predominately white Green Street Methodist Episcopal Church and heard John Inskip preach on the possibility of “instantaneous sanctification.”  She received the experience and began to pray for James Smith to receive it as well; nothing suggests he ever did. 

    James Smith died in November 1869; a short while after Amanda’s only remaining child at home had died. The next year she began an itinerant ministry as an evangelist and holiness teacher. At first, she spoke primarily to black congregations, and then in the early 1870s she began to speak to crowds of both blacks and whites.

    A brief chronology will summarize her busy career.

1870—Preaching at camp meetings. Some of her most vocal opponents were African American ministers who opposed “women preachers.” Support from some prominent ministers helped curtail these criticisms. During these years her reputation grew and she made several influential friends among the Methodists.

1878—She traveled to England to preach. She was well received and would eventually preach in Scotland and Ireland.

1879—She felt called to go to India to serve as a missionary. She worked in Calcutta with Methodist missionaries there, though she considered herself an independent or “faith” missionary.

1881—She returned to England to preach.

1882—She went from England to work with missionaries in Liberia.

1890—Amanda returned to the United States where she continued her evangelistic ministry before settling near Chicago. She established The Amanda Smith Orphanage and Industrial Home for Abandoned and Destitute Colored Children; the home was closed in 1917 following a tragic fire. She occasionally appeared with noted “feminists” of the period in support of women’s rights.

1912—She retired to Florida where she lived in a home bought by her admirers.

1915—Amanda Smith passed away.

    Bishop James Thoburn (1836-1922), a proponent of women in ministry, wrote the introduction to Amanda’s Autobiography, published in 1893.    In it, Thoburn tells a story illustrating how Smith could inspire respect from even the most unlikely persons. He received a letter from “a well known theatrical manager, much given to popular buffoonery.” He asked the bishop to arrange for Amanda to speak at his theatre on a Sunday night. Thoburn was immediately suspicious, as were others when they heard.

        "Do not go, Sister Amanda," said several, "the man merely wishes to have a good opportunity of seeing you, so that he can take you off in his theatre. He has no good purpose in view. Do not trust yourself to him under any circumstances."

        After a moment's hesitation Mrs. Smith replied in language which I shall never forget:

        "I am forbidden," she said, "to judge any man. You would not wish me to judge you, and would think it wrong if any of us should judge a brother or sister in the church. What right have I to judge this man? I have no more right to judge him than if he were a Christian."

        She said she would pray over it and give her decision. 

    Smith decided to accept the invitation and when the evening came, the theatre was packed. 

        She spoke simply and pointedly, alluding to the kindness of the manager who had opened the doors of his theatre to her, in very courteous terms, and evidently made a deep and favorable impression upon the audience. There was no laughing, and no attempt was ever made subsequently to ridicule her. As she was walking off the stage the manager said to me; "If you want the theatre for her again do not fail to let me know. I would do anything for that inspired woman."   

    Bishop William Taylor (1821-1902),  Methodist bishop for Africa, sent a letter of introduction to James Payne, the former president of Liberia. (Liberia, a nation of the west coast of Africa, was created as a home for former slaves. Between 1820, nearly 20,000 freed slaves from the US and the Caribbean settled there. Since English was the official language, Smith could easily communicate when she spoke to assemblies and when she ministered to individuals.) In his letter, Taylor praised Smith’s ministry

        MY DEAR BROTHER: This will introduce to your acquaintance our beloved sister, Mrs. Amanda Smith. As you may know, Sister Amanda is one of the most remarkable evangelists of these eventful days in which we live. She is a member of our church, and well accredited, and everywhere owned of God in America, England and India, as a marvelous, soul-saving worker for the Lord Jesus.

        I heard you pleading for Liberia at our recent general Conference. Your prayer will be answered in a great revival of God's work in Liberia, through the agency of Sister Amanda, with the working concurrence of your churches.

        I am sure you will do all you can to open her way. God bless you all. Amen.

Your brother in Jesus,

WILLIAM TAYLOR. 

    Thoburn and Taylor were gifted and perceptive men who could recognize a gifted and perceptive woman. 

    Smith’s ministry in Liberia lasted several years and she became an astute observer (and, sometimes, critic) of the new nation. She hoped the nation would be a place of opportunity where black leaders could develop; yet she almost immediately recognized there was, among the former slaves, a caste system that divided rich and poor, contrary to what the American Colonization Society seemed to believe. She implies the Society did not properly prepare those planning to move to Liberia and that it did not adequately fund the nation’s schools. She worried that there was no hospital. She may have been guilty of bias in assessing the missionary situation. She wrote, “There is one thing that the Methodist Church in America is ahead on, and that is, there is more of a spirit of real consecration for missionary work among the Christian women in America than I found in England.”    Still she acknowledged the warm welcome she received from most in the country, though she admitted there were likely some who resented her presence—a dual reality most missionaries of every age have experienced.

    Smith never sought ordination from her denomination; such human recognition did not matter to her. She wrote that God “… knew that the thought of ordination had never once entered my mind, for I had received my ordination from Him.”   Soon after she had begun itinerating, Smith attended the AME conference in Nashville knowing some of the male pastors suspected she would attempt to be ordained. She heard some declare their intention to “fight” the ordination of women.   She comforted herself with the knowledge God had chosen her and had promised to make her ministry fruitful.

    Decades later, after seeing that promise fulfilled in nations she likely never imagined visiting, she remained satisfied with her ordination at God’s hand but noticed that the attitude of male ministers was changing.

    But how they have advanced since then [the Nashville meeting]. Most of them believe in the ordination of women, and I believe some [women] have been ordained. But I am satisfied with the ordination that the Lord has given me. Praise His name! 

    In reading how, at the end of her career, Amanda Smith remained satisfied with this “unofficial” ordination, some male opponents of women in ministry might ask, “Why aren’t women satisfied with that today?” Certainly, the proper response is, “Would you be?”

Note: Documentation may be found in The Place Accorded of Old.