Easter and the Popular Theologian

 Tomorrow is Easter. Today is what some have called “Silent Saturday.” It refers to the disciples huddled together, whispering their fears about the reach of “the authorities” and quietly voicing their profound disappointment. The crucifixion had broken their hearts. They had no idea (though they had been told) what the next morning would bring.

You don’t have to be an expert in world religions to know the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth is crucial to understanding Christianity. 

A popular theologian—yes, such creatures apparently exist—offers up what many of his disciples see as a more palatable explanation of the cross than the traditional view offers. (I will leave the popular theologian unnamed since, despite claims that his viewpoint is new, he really represents a certain type of theologian, a type who has been around for centuries.) Instead of the cross being a place where a man died to placate an angry God, the popular theologian sees the cross a place where a man died to self—his self-centeredness, selfishness. This allows the popular theologian to avoid what he sees as troubling aspects of the standard explanation of the cross. As for the resurrection—the Easter event—our focus shouldn’t be on a lone man leaving the tomb, but on the light emanating from that tomb, a light filling the whole world. Indeed, some of the popular theologian’s critics wonder if he believes the resurrection was the kind of event that could have been captured on cell phone cameras had they been around in the first century. The popular theologian believes his view frees God from scandalous character flaws more traditional orthodoxy attributes to Him. The popular theologian probably believes this. 

The popular theologian claims he is rescuing God’s reputation; in fact, he is rescuing humanity’s reputation. The cross doesn’t show how harsh God is; is shows how bad we are. Only the death of God’s Son could deal with the problem of sin. 

The popular theologian doesn’t like the imagery of sacrifice when the cross is mentioned, even though that image is found everywhere in the New Testament. In Hebrews 9:23, Jesus provides the better sacrifice. In Romans 3:24-26, Jesus is described as providing “propitiation” for our sins. I have left the popular theologian unidentified, but I will respond to his thinking using an old cliché about Christianity. If he is Protestant, he must deal with Paul who says, “We have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins….” (Ephesians 1:7 AV).  If he is Roman Catholic, he must deal with Peter who says, “you were not redeemed with corruptible things as gold or silver, from your vain conversation [way of life] of the tradition of your fathers: But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb unspotted and undefiled…” (I Peter 1:18,19 Douay-Rheims).

In short, the popular theologian does not take our sins seriously, nor the depth of God’s love. Rather than the cross proving God’s harshness, the cross proves God’s love—self-sacrificing love. It can’t be much clearer than Romans 5:8, “Christ proved God’s passionate love for us by dying in our place while we were still lost and ungodly!”

Look for references to the cross in the New Testament and you’re likely to find, close by, a reference to the resurrection. Though the initial response to the Risen Jesus showing up may have been, “Well, that was unexpected,” further reflection produced another response, “Well, of course.” The earliest preachers insisted it would have been a monumental injustice for Jesus to remain in the grave and, linked to this, was the claim that his resurrection proved who he was: God’s Anointed, the Messiah, in fact, God Incarnate (Acts 2:39, Romans 1:4, Philippians 2:9). At the same time, they argued the resurrection was evidence Christ’s self-sacrifice provided effectively dealt with our sins and provided salvation (Romans 4:25). 

Now what I have just outlined in the last three paragraphs is a kind of generic theology.  It’s what you would expect to hear in an Easter sermon. In fact, if you hear a sermon on Easter, you will probably be able to guess what the preacher is going to say next. That’s not a bad thing, but it’s something the popular theologian can use. He offers novelty. He offers to give you insights your parents don’t have. If you embrace, what the popular theologian has to say, you a cut above the ordinary Christian. You have special knowledge.  You are more mature. (Huh, that almost sound like Gnosticism. But mustn’t digress.)

Sure, the popular theologian’s promise of living in a new way, selflessly, lovingly, sounds good. But, it is an empty promise without the cross and the empty tomb. The popular theologian’s alternative leaves you powerless. The orthodoxy of the Bible promises Christ’s resurrection power, mediated through the Holy Spirit in your life (Acts 2:33). 

So, this Easter be aware of the popular theologian. Don’t let yourself be fooled by about how good you are, about how you can be like Jesus on your own. It sounds good, but it doesn’t work. 

The popular theologian will never go away. He shows up whenever people want to hear they are not so bad that Christ had to die for them, wherever we want to hear how much we can do if we really try, with no need for silly notions like repentance and forgiveness. Instead, the popular theologian flatters our egos. That’s why the popular theologian is popular. But remember, the popular theologian has traded truth for popularity.

Maybe Next Year, Part 2

 

Hierarchicalism has unintended consequences. Husbands, fathers, boyfriends, brothers who may be prone to violence may use the stance to “encourage” the women in their lives to be properly submissive. 

Even if it were successfully demonstrated that hierarchicalism is the Biblical model for family relationships, nothing in the Bible allows for violence toward wives and daughters. Not when Paul says, “the husband must give his wife the same sort of love that Christ gave to the Church, when he sacrificed himself for her” (Eph. 5:25 Phillips).

For centuries English common law allowed husbands to beat their wives, as long as the stick used was no thicker than a man’s thumb. Puritans in seventeenth century New England may have passed the first laws to make wife-beating illegal. By no means did they espouse egalitarianism, but they did recognize such violence had no place in their community. 

In a climate when family violence seems rife, those who insist hierarchicalism is the Biblical vision for marriages must take extra steps to make sure husbands and wives should know physical and psychological violence cannot be tolerated. No pastor must ever tell a bruised wife that staying in the path of her husband’s fists is God’s will for her. No church must ever allow an abusive husband to remain in a position of authority and influence; if his wife may not be a deacon merely because of her gender, his behavior should certainly preclude his having the title. With that, I will move on.  

There is yet another hurdle those committed to hierarchicalism must face. By its very tenets, the doctrine limits the freedom of more than half of those within Christ’s church. I say “more than half” deliberately: since at least the seventeenth century more women than men have been active participants in the church. Limiting their freedom is a significant privilege to presume. It demands certainty. 

Yet, curiously, J. I. Packer, in an article in Christianity Today, admits there are questions about the crucial passage I Timothy 2:13-14 but urges churches to give Paul “the benefit of the doubt” and refuse to ordain women (11 February 1991). When I first read those words, I wondered why giving Paul that benefit of the doubt meant assuming the apostle intended to support a viewpoint which coincidentally was the viewpoint Packer held. How can we presume to limit the freedom of our spiritual sisters when we are not convinced beyond “doubt” Paul sanctioned our doing so?

Unlike Packer, not a few of those who believe Paul was proposing gender hierarchy within the church would never admit there are questions about the passage. Objections to their viewpoint simply won’t be allowed. I once heard a local radio host in Columbus, Ohio, answer a listener’s question about women preaching. He said, “Anyone who allows women to preach has to explain away Paul’s words in First Timothy.” That’s it; that was his answer. The man who had spent years as a pastor could not imagine that anyone who disagreed with him might actually be offering a reasonable alternative understanding of Paul’s words, not simply explaining them away or dismissing them. 

It will be impossible to persuade such a man that there might be another way to read the texts he has so long assumed supported his viewpoint. So, I will abandon that endeavor.

Instead, I will ask you to pursue the answers to a few questions.

Have you ever considered what our churches are losing by preventing women from making full use of their talents as leaders, teachers, preachers?

Why would Paul praise women as co-workers, allow them to prophesy, and describe them as church leaders in other places, yet seemingly limit their roles in a couple passages in his letters to Timothy and Titus?

If they were allowed to teach and preach, could women give us greater insights into marriage, family life, and domestic violence than male teachers and preachers?

What can we do to make sure our daughters and sons hear about the many female heroes in church history? (Why should our children know about John Smith but not Anne Hutchinson?)

Could the church’s youthful critics—who see Christianity as sexist—be exposing a family secret, one that demands we reevaluate our glib repetition of old formulas?

If we had more women leaders, would our churches and denominations have been so inclined to support men who demean women and trivialize assault?  

Is it possible Paul’s words that seem to limit the freedom of women did not lay down eternal principles; but, rather, were addressing specific situations?

That’s a start. Maybe answering these questions won’t persuade you to take an egalitarian stance, but maybe you will come away with a better understanding of those who already stand there. If you are an egalitarian, maybe this exercise will strengthen your case.

During this Women’s History Month, it seems appropriate to challenge some of ways women are being treated, ways that should be history. Maybe someday.

Hope for the "New" Normal

 I am sitting at the kitchen table as I look through the window at the brilliant sunshine. The grass is turning green, some trees are blossoming. It’s hard to believe that just over a month ago I would have been sitting here shivering because we had no electricity, looking through the window at snow and ice, and hoping none of our pipes had frozen. More than eighty people died during that freak-weather induced blackout; certainly, too many to allow media darlings to mock Texas. We’d seen bad weather in Ohio, but not like this. In Ohio we were prepared (on both the community and personal level). Ohio’s Franklin County has a fleet of snowplows; here our county has none. When we had no electricity in Ohio, we could slip away to any mall that was open or to the library to warm-up and recharge electronics; here the roads were covered with ice and many places like the malls and libraries were also dark. (Of course, the pandemic would have kept us home.) 

As bad as it was it could have been worse. We were able to drive the car a little way out of the garage to charge cell phones.  We could drink the water, though not all of our neighbors could (some had no water at all). We had food. We had a stock of tuna and peanut butter. Had the blackout lasted much longer we might have tried mixing them, but it never came to that. Our son and friends in Ohio checked on us. Neighbors here checked on one another. Our power went out on Monday morning, it came back Thursday noon. Others were still without power two weeks later. 

On Friday, my EMT neighbor and I shoveled snow off the driveway. On Saturday, our son, daughter-in-law, and Grandson showed up to help shovel snow off the deck and elsewhere. In recent days we’ve turned off the furnace, taken pleasant walks, planted flowers to replace those killed by the cold, and even cut the grass. It gives me hope that whatever “normal” may mean after the pandemic won’t be too unfamiliar.

A Christian theologian, I believe God cares for us and uses “agents” to help mediate his grace. Maybe those agents include a wife who suggested we buy a dozen cans of tuna just a couple weeks before the storm. Maybe God is responsible for the whim that prompted me to say we should get some peanut butter, though I can go weeks without eating it. Maybe those agents include the folks who called, texted, or just showed up.

Oh yes, Krissy our dog has apparently forgiven us for making her cold. Though, I’m not sure our neighbor’s cats have forgiven them.

Maybe Next Year

 One Sunday, while a first-year seminary student, I preached at a small rural church. After the service, one of the saints, thanked me for my “talk.”  If someone could confuse my sermon for a talk, I suppose someone could confuse Beth Moore’s talks for sermons. 

Beth Moore recently announced she was leaving the Southern Baptist Convention. The popular Bible teacher and author explained her departure by pointing to the continuing support given to Donald Trump by certain key figures in the denomination. Such support, she believes, evidences an indifference to women’s concerns. 

In recent years, Moore has been criticized, not only for opposing Trump (and supposedly supporting Hillary Clinton), but also for allegedly preaching. Moore does not call herself a preacher, but her critics apparently believe she has crossed the line from teaching to preaching. Almost certainly, that dear lady from the rural church could explain to me why I was merely giving “a talk” while Moore is preaching. But I digress.

What finally prompted Moore to break with the Convention was its response to the sexual abuse of women by pastors and other leaders. Although, the Convention has issued statements condemning such abuse, Moore and others feel the response lacks the commitment to do the difficult work of removing offenders from places of influence, large and small. 

It is hard to deny this charge. Paige Patterson was removed from the presidency of Southwestern Seminary for failing to act on accusations made by a female student against a fellow student, whom she said raped her at gunpoint. Moreover, Patterson allegedly attempted to coerce the student to keep silent and portrayed her as a willing participant in the sexual activity. Yet, even after the trustees dismissed Patterson, they wanted to give him the title of president emeritus and appoint him (and his wife) as “theologians in residence,” a status that would provide a nice residence on the campus. The revelation that Patterson apparently had a treated another female student the same way while he was president of another school, prompted the trustees to terminate him with no plans to appoint him to any other position. 

In response, over two-dozen wealthy Southern Baptists, all donors to the seminary, insisted Patterson be kept as part of the school’s leadership team. Using a tactic familiar to every Baptist pastor who ever dealt with furious members united in a coterie, they threatened to end their support of the seminary. 

In an angry letter to the trustees, they wrote, “Dr. and Mrs. Patterson continue to have our absolute and unwavering support. They are both esteemed scholars and were stately ambassadors for the Seminary. Your treatment of them is a travesty that must not go unaddressed.” (Julie Zaumer, “Angry donors threaten to withhold money from seminary that fired Paige Patterson,” The Washington Post, 4 July 2018. Emphasis added.) Only a nationwide protest kept trustees from acting on the demands. Reportedly, Patterson was later hired as an adjunct professor at another seminary. His job: teaching ethics.

From my standpoint, it is easy to understand why Moore and many other women were angry.

Now, I am not writing about sexual abuse. Rather, I am addressing the matter of unintended consequences. But before I do so, I need to briefly define a couple terms. First, hierarchicalism. This notion says God intends men to play the role of leader in any relationship with women. Those who hold this position insist it does not demean women, nor does it suggest women are less intelligent or somehow inferior to men. It simply insists this is God’s plan. A simple analogy comes from the US Constitution. A naturalized citizen has the same rights and status as a native-born citizen. However, according to the Constitution, the naturalized citizen may not serve as President of the United States. (Hence the unfounded “Birther conspiracy.”) In the same way, despite not being in anyway inferior, women are barred from leading churches. In contrast, egalitarianism is the notion that men and women are equal in every way. If there are innate differences in the genders, they do not diminish the value of either. Significantly, egalitarians believe women may have any role in the church, including deacon, elder, or pastor. A third important term is “complementarian,” which will be clarified later.

Fairness demands I admit the hierarchical position has supporters among women. Dorothy Patterson has a Doctor of Ministry degree from Luther Rice Seminary and a Doctor of Theology degree from the University of South Africa, so she is sometimes called “Dr. Patterson.” Dr. Dorothy Patterson, who has been described as "one of today's leading scholars on the topic of biblical womanhood” (The Christian Post, 12 May 2013), helped prepare the 2000 Baptist Faith and Message which raised hierarchicalism to confessional status for Southern Baptists. She is an editor of The Women’s Study Bible, which promotes the hierarchical interpretation. Her popularity reminds me that a surprising number of women are content with this viewpoint, believing it provides God-given protection from the challenges men face in church leadership. Not every woman agrees.

Many women believe hierarchicalism leads to attitudes that foster abuse. Beth Moore does not believe this, but writers like Ruth A. Tucker (Black and White Bible, Black and Blue Wife) and Kristin Kobes DuMez (Jesus and John Wayne) apparently do. If their assessment is correct, I hope it is an unintended consequence. In truth, any man who wishes to physically, emotionally, or sexually abuse his wife needs no theological justification. However, that man’s pastor may find hierarchicalism a hinderance to counselling the abused wife or correcting the abusive husband (if you’re the “head” how can you tolerate defiance). In the same way, the pastor might, for example, find it difficult to tell the woman to defy her husband and leave.

This may be why some who embrace hierarchicalism prefer the term “complementarian” for their perspective. It is a promising term but a little confusing. Many egalitarians would insist that they, too, are complementarians, believing that whatever—spiritual, emotional, or intellectual—it is that makes a woman a woman and whatever—spiritual, emotional, or intellectual—it is that makes a man a man lie behind the words of the Creation story: “So God created man in his own image, . . . male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27 NIV) Each half of humanity stands alone while completing the other half.

I know men and women with hierarchical convictions; they would be incensed at the suggestion they endorse spousal abuse. I’ve seen no reason to doubt their commitment to the safety of women. Even so, this does not mean the position cannot be misinterpreted or distorted.  I’ve concluded those who do not listen very carefully (or humbly) to the explanation of the hierarchical position will almost inevitably suspect (or insist) there is something lacking in the female, spiritually, emotionally, or mentally. This deficiency precludes their serving as leaders in the church.  While more sophisticated hierarchicalists might speak of “the order of creation,” that suspicion of innate female inferiority will persist among many who hear them. Convinced of this, they may find a license to treat women with disdain.

Those who believe the hierarchical view is thought in scripture have the responsibility to insist the view allow no room for bullying or abuse in any form. Honesty demands the admission they have often failed.

During this Women’s History Month, it seems appropriate to challenge some of ways women are being treated, ways that should be history. Maybe someday

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.