May 15th, 2010
In the beginning, there were T-Shirts—bright aqua-colored T-Shirts that read “This Is What a Preacher Looks Like.” In 2008, Baptist Women in Ministry produced and distributed the T-Shirts during the celebration of the organization’s twenty-fifth anniversary, and I must say the T-Shirts were a big hit. They were colorful and fun and stirred up conversation.
Baptist women bought them and proudly wore them. Mothers purchased them for their daughters. Seminarians were seen wearing them in class. Husbands ordered them as gifts for their wives. Church leaders gave them to women who preached in their churches. And several fathers inquired as to whether the T-Shirts came in toddler sizes. The T-Shirts were a hit.
I have pondered a bit about why the T-Shirts were so popular, and one conclusion is that a simple cotton T-Shirt let us as Baptists “say” out loud and embrace the truth that there is not ONE look for Baptist preachers. Baptist preachers are a diverse lot. We have many looks, many preaching styles, and many voices.
We are young and . . . older. Our voices are soft and loud, prophetic and pastoral, humorous and sincere. We are veteran preachers and new to the preaching world. We live in all geographic regions in the United States and in places all around the world. We come from a variety of Baptist faith traditions, and we hold theological positions across the entire spectrum. We serve on church staffs, in campus ministry, as denominational leaders, and as theological educators. We are African American, Asian, Latina, and Caucasian. We are sisters, wives, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and friends. When it comes to “This Is What a Preacher Looks Like” T-Shirts, one size surely does not fit all. Baptist women preachers are truly a diverse group.
Late in 2008, Smyth & Helwys editor, Keith Gammons, contacted me about putting together a collection of sermons using “This is What a Preacher Looks Like” as the title. As I gathered sermons from Baptist women preachers and began reading them, my conclusion about the popularity of the T-Shirts was confirmed.
As I read sermons and more sermons and then even more sermons by Baptist women preachers, I was struck by the great variety in those sermons. We surely do not all sound alike. Some of us are narrative preachers. Others are expository preachers. Still others tend toward being topical preachers. We preach from different places in life. We each bring our own voice, our own story, our own experience to our sermons.
In the midst of this collecting and reading of sermons, I finally realized that what a preacher looks like is—all of us. Only when we expand our vision and embrace the truth that all of us who are followers of Christ are preachers of the gospel—only then will we know what a preacher looks like. Only when we hear all the voices—women and men, young and old, black and white and brown, conservative, moderate, and liberal, strong and weak, seasoned and inexperienced—will we have a clear picture of what it means to be a preacher of the gospel. Indeed, only then we will know what the body of Christ looks like. To be fully the body of Christ, we need each other. We need to hear each other.
The book, This is What a Preacher Looks Like: Sermons by Baptist Women in Ministry is now available from Smyth & Helwys. And the T-Shirt is still available too!
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May 12th, 2010
The month of May seems to be a time for blessing. Central Baptist Theological Seminary had a Graduating Sisters Blessing Ceremony on May 4, during which the women graduates were affirmed and encouraged. What a wonderful gift! I love this photo from the ceremony of Central’s president, Molly Marshall, and Tammy Jackson Gill.
Yesterday, McAfee School of Theology had a Service of Blessing for all its graduates, a service that included laying on hands. I imagine that most seminaries have held similar services in the last few weeks. What a gift for graduates!
The month of May also seems to a prime time for ordination services. I have been to one service already this month and have another one on my calendar for May 23. I walk away from every ordination with such powerful feelings of gratitude: gratitude for the ways in which God works; gratitude for the women and men who have heard and followed God’s calling; and gratitude for congregations, families, and friends who speak words of affirmation and love for the one called.
This semester I have been teaching as an adjunct at McAfee School of Theology. The class is church history, part two (it covers 1500 to the present, 500 years of good stories packed into about three months). I have had the good fortune of having Jane Hull in my class. Jane happens to be my friend so it has been odd being her professor, and to be honest, I may have taught her a few facts and dates about church history or introduced her to some new names and ideas, but I have not taught Jane how to be a minister. She already knew that when she walked in the classroom door. And one of many her ministry gifts is that of blessing. Jane knows the power of blessing. She easily and readily speaks words of affirmation.
All semester, but especially during the last few weeks, I have watched Jane in action with her fellow students. I have seen her place her hands on their shoulders. I have watched her look them straight in the eye. I have heard her offer words of blessing (okay, I admit to eavesdropping a few times when I had the chance). And today, I was the recipient of one of Jane’s blessings (professors need words of affirmation too). If blessing others is a spiritual gift, then Jane has it! But if blessing others is a learned lifestyle, she has mastered it. Either way, I am grateful for her words of blessing.
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May 11th, 2010
Growing up the child of a minister is a good life. People make jokes about preacher’s kids, with some justification, certainly. But, in reality, it’s a great life. You get the run of the church, along with the knowledge of where to find a vanilla wafer when you need one and what the baptistery looks like when it’s empty. You get pampered by the older people, raised by the village, and just enough limelight to give you a healthy self-esteem.
What you also get, as a PK, is a look behind the wizard’s curtain, so to speak. Everyone else may be impressed by the Great and Powerful Oz when he stands behind his pulpit every Sunday, but you—you have seen the guy rushing from the bathroom in nothing but a towel. You have seen him lose his cool when he mistook his thumb for a nail, and you know where he hides his cigarettes. He is the guy you call to take care of the ghosts clamoring to get out of your closet at night, and he is the guy who made you spend your entire Saturday raking the leaves in the back yard (when you know, theologically speaking, that God would not have made leaves fall if God did not intend for them to stay there). If the ministers in your home are doing their job right (which mine did), the face of God looks like cookies and homework and being grounded and having a brand new bike all at once, which is exactly why it is difficult to face becoming a minister if you have grown up the child of one.
When I left college, I got a job in Charlotte teaching high school. I moved to Charlotte with all the optimism and hope of a young person beginning a new profession—thinking that the students would love me, knowing that I would be cool a teacher, believing that I would change their lives, and hoping that I would become for my students what my teachers had been for me. The realities of teaching are harsh, but I managed to hold onto my optimism for many years until the needs of my children superseded my need to teach.
I had no such optimism about becoming a minister. None. First of all, I had absolutely no intention of ever becoming a minister or taking a paycheck of any kind from a church. I ended up doing some summer work for churches, but my experiences there simply reinforced my determination to never hitch my star to the church wagon. I know the life of a minister—I know what 24/7/365 looks like. One summer I did serve as a church as a summer minister, and I had to sit on a Sunday morning and hear a sermon about the importance of maleness to the role of ministry. I did not remain a member of that church. At the other church, my duties continued well past the summer (when, coincidentally, the church stopped paying me for my time) and that role became a burden on top of my duties as a teacher.
So when people began to say to me, “You should be our children’s minister,” I laughed. Derisively. Repeatedly. Whole-heartedly. And then a few more started saying it. “You’re so good with the children—why don’t you become our children’s minister?” Ha ha ha! No. But I found myself spending my time thinking of how to tell Bible stories to children. I found myself keeping a sermon idea notebook. I found myself taking on tasks that involved ministering to children. Craziness! What could it all mean?
Finally, in what I call “The Miracle of the Monty,” the camel’s back snapped in two. My husband, Monty, is not the kind for snap decisions. Just purchasing a new battery for a car is the kind of act that requires weeks of thinking, researching, and pondering. Monty asks, “Could I recharge the old one again? Could I borrow one from the other car and just move it back and forth when I needed to drive? Could I only go places where I can roll downhill?” You see the pattern. So one day I asked him, prepared for weeks of questions and negotiations, “What would you think if I applied for the job of children’s minister at the church?” I braced myself. He said, “If you think that’s what God wants you to do, then you should do it.” And that was it. No questions, no worries, no “what will we do with the children?” or “how many meetings is this going to entail?” Just do what God wants. And that small miracle put me over the edge. Knowing what I knew about the ministry and churches, knowing how many calls, how many conversations, how many meetings were in store for me (and for my family) I stepped across the threshold of the church as one of her ministers. I found myself relaxing into a role that I knew to its very core—and the further I have allowed myself to go into this life, the more I have felt at home.
It has occurred to me in these last eight-and-a-half years during which I have assumed the role of minister that God’s sense of humor is a lot like my brother’s, a lot like my father’s—there is a twinkle of mischief in the workings of the Lord. And every time I put on my ridiculous wizard-like robes to step out onto the stage, every time I get a question from a child such as “If God is here, why can’t I see him?” I see the glint in God’s eye and hear the rumble of his laughter—and I laugh at myself and enjoy the thought that I can reward myself with a vanilla wafer after the service.
Martha Dixon Kearse is minister to children and families at St. John’s Baptist Church in Charlotte, North Carolina.
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May 4th, 2010
Last week we buried my friend Doug. Doug was a modern day renaissance man. He knew many things, could do many things, and was his own man. Over the years, Doug infused Native American spiritual practices, love for classic rock music, and a green thumb into his Christian life. The result was an unorthodox, organic relationship with his God.
When we met in our office to plan Doug’s service, the family had many ideas. Some Doug requested. Others the family desired. The communion table was to hold a bonsai tree, a small wooden box with Doug’s ashes, and a boulder [Doug was prone to wearing this boulder to punctuate special occasions]. Ministers were to robe. “Amazing Grace” and “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee” along with a video tribute were to be in the order of worship. The practice of the family entering the sanctuary following the ministers and the offering of the committal collect found in The Book of Common Prayer needed to be included. Likewise time for congregational sharing about Doug, a pre-service video set to classic rock and the Rolling Stones classic “You Can’t Always get What You Want” needed to be included in the order.
Did I mention Doug was an eclectic man? Did I mention that while he loved traditional, formal worship Doug and his God rocked out as he molded and shaped things with his hands? How does one pay tribute . . . authentic tribute to such a life?
In God’s grace and mercy what resulted was probably the most meaningful service I have officiated to date. Somehow the ebb and flow of the service lead itself to inspire ten plus students Doug had over the years to share how “Ballentine” changed their life. Doug’s co-worker and daughter-in-law spoke of Doug’s integrity and commitment to teaching students to think. They spoke of his midlife career change to teaching, his ability to engage people of all ages in many disciplines, his knowledge and his love of life . . . and family. After the students spoke, I read a letter from Doug’s widow and the video tribute was played. The service concluded with the offering of the committal collect, transitional words, and the playing of the Rolling Stones version of their classic.
Can The Book of Common Prayer and the Rolling Stones be used in designing a funeral? Yes, but the placement in the order of worship is critical. You have to create a flow and make sure to insert elements in a pattern that does not distract from the whole. You must know where you want the service to end and plan how you want the service to get there.
As I watched the faces in the congregation I could not help but weep. Participants of all ages rocked out with huge smiles on their faces and tears flowing. The song punctuated Doug’s life perfectly. True, a few shook their heads or looked down in obvious displeasure but others “remembered Doug” in an unorthodox, organic way. See . . . as unorthodox as it sounds the Rolling Stones classic was the perfect conclusion to this memorial service for the song we find these words “you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime you just might find you get what you need,” which by the way preaches every time.
Katrina Stipe Brooks is co-pastor of North Broad Baptist Church in Rome, Georgia.
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May 3rd, 2010
Last week I had the opportunity to speak to a gathering of Baptist moderate leaders. The focus of my presentation was on the challenges we as moderate Baptists face as we move into our future. One challenge I addressed is the question: “What do we say to our Baptist daughters who feel called and who are gifted to serve as pastor?”
And here is an excerpt from my remarks . . . “I think we have at least two options as moderate Baptists. The first option . . . we tell young women to stop waiting for existing churches to change. We encourage them to move outside the traditional framework for their future in ministry. In essence, we advise them to give up on looking for open pulpits and existing churches that will embrace their gifts. And instead, we call out young women to plant new churches, churches which from their very foundation will be inclusive of women, affirming of their gifts.
A second option is to challenge our young women to stay in their churches, to be proactive and make change happen, to be reformers, revolutionaries. We advise our daughter to work from within our existing churches but to be vocal and strong in their call for change.
Two options. The more I ponder these two options the more I am convinced that the answer is YES. Yes to both options. We need to call some of our daughters to new work, outside the box work, and we need to prepare them with new skills that will ensure their success. And we need to call some of our daughters to stay the course, to minister in our existing churches, to be change agents from within. I am convinced that we cannot do either/or, BUT we must do both/and. We must live out both options.
And let me make one side note . . . if we advise our daughters to plant churches, to start new work, are we not then obligated to provide financial training for them about budgets and accounting, to offer them leadership and managerial education, entrepreneurial coaching? Do we need to make sure that women in seminary are taught business skills so that they will know how to organize new churches, found non-profits? Do we need to teach them to raise money, manage account, and create new paradigms for leadership?”
What has unfolded for me in the last few days as I have thought about this gathering is that the conversations we shared about our future together have energized me. Talking together about hopes and dreams but also sharing about concrete plans and priorities gave me a new sense of hope and an even greater commitment to the mission of Baptist Women in Ministry—“to be a catalyst in Baptist life, drawing together women and men in partnership with God, to illuminate, advocate, and nurture the gifts and graces of women.”
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