As a child, I wanted to be Billy Graham. I thought he had the coolest job in the world, traveling the globe and telling everyone about Jesus. As I grew older, though, I learned that girls aren’t supposed to become evangelists . . .
Eating bugs for the sake of the Bible
I decided I would do the next best thing and become a missionary, instead. I pictured myself roughing it in the jungles of the Amazon like Elisabeth Elliot, translating the Bible while eating bugs around a campfire.
God had other ideas, though. When I finished college, I tried to become a missionary, but He shut that door.
.
.
Nehemiah 3:12
Since I had never envisioned myself as anything other than a missionary, I didn’t know what else to do with my life. Finally, my mother gave me some sage advice: just pick a direction and go, honey. If the Lord needs you, He’ll know where to find you, just like with Moses and the burning bush. I decided that if I couldn’t talk about the Bible, I could at least travel the world. So I went to work for an airline in another state.
Where are they going today?
Every morning as I rode the employee bus across the tarmac, I would look up at the planes towering above me. Where were they going? I would dream of climbing on board and flying somewhere overseas.
During this time, I stopped going to church. Why should I? God had spoken, and He didn’t want me. Fine, then. I didn’t need Him, either. With my travel benefits, I was able to fly for free, and I was also able to get heavy discounts at luxury hotels. Who needs God when you’re living the good life?
Then the good life came crashing down.
One winter morning, I was driving down the freeway on my way to work. I hit a patch of black ice and spun out of control, eventually crashing into a concrete barrier. My car was totaled, and since I only had basic insurance, they wouldn’t replace it. The airport was outside of the city, which made it difficult to reach without a car. The city ran a special shuttle bus, but it cost $5 each way. My co-workers gave me a ride for a while, but then made clear they were tired of doing so. I was on my own.
For some unknown reason, my bank sent me a credit card. Relief! I ran out and purchased an old clunker of a car from a used car dealership. And then
No more nice guys
While all this was going on, the Lord led me to my future husband. We met through a Christian dating site. He sent me a nice email, and I . . . hit delete. After all, nice men don’t exist on dating sites, do they? I had certainly learned that the hard way.
Fortunately, God prompted him to try again. And fortunately, he listened, or this would be a very different story. And so, reader, I married him.
SAMSUNG
“You might want to change your shoes…”1
My husband lived in North Yorkshire. England. If that name sounds familiar, it’s probably because Yorkshire is famous for its literary associations. You see, James Herriot lived in the village of Thirsk, just down the road from our city of York.2
And of course, there’s the obscure trio of sisters who wrote those little-known novels that nobody has heard about today.3 They lived in Haworth, a village on the wild Yorkshire moors. Did I mention that Jane Eyre is one of my favorite novels?
A mystical, historical church
“Although this wonderful church formed me . . . I still felt like we were missing something. Our faith, as a stalwart outpost of the kingdom in a threatening world, seemed somehow precarious. …There was no sense at all of the whole mystical, historical massiveness of a church that had been around for two thousand years.”4
I love this quote because it’s pretty much how I grew up, too. In my church, we were supposed to be fighting a spiritual war against our culture. We believed that we were under siege, just like medieval people defending a castle. It was exhausting, and certainly did not lead to us feeling love towards our enemies.
It wasn’t until I moved to Britain that I found Christians who truly demonstrated love, joy, and peace in their lives. Slowly, I began learning a different way of being a Christian. I realized that I wanted to lower the drawbridge and leave the castle. Instead of fighting the culture, what if I simply showed them the love of Christ?
Truth, Beauty, and Goodness
I grew up as a gospel-singing, “Preach it, brother!” Baptist. My husband was a Local Preacher4 in the Methodist Church, though, and so I was exposed to the liturgical church for the first time. At first I didn’t like it since it was so unfamiliar. Soon I grew to love it, though. I loved the sense of connection with our spiritual forebears. And I came to realize that the Christians whom I met in Britain felt secure because they knew their story was simply part of the larger story of the historical Church.
SAMSUNG
One Sunday we were visiting my mother-in-law. Since her village had no Methodist church, we went to the Anglican church for morning service. During the sermon, I did what I have done since I was a child: flipped through the hymnal. Suddenly, I saw a page with the title, Hymn For Female Saint’s Days. I felt a physical pain go through me, as if somebody hit me.
Who were all of these female saints? Why did the Anglicans know about them and not me? I was so mad that I nearly jumped up and yelled at the vicar.
Then deep down, I felt another pain. Maybe I didn’t know about these female saints because I wasn’t supposed to know about them. Maybe this wasn’t some sort of accidental ommission by those who ran my church, but a deliberate strategy to keep me from knowing about my spiritual past.
Long lost sisters . . .
Looking back, I can see that my “road in the woods”5 moment occurred in that Anglican church in England. You see, at that moment, I had a choice. I could have just dismissed my anger. I could have just forgotten about it and returned to the spiritual ignorance I had endured for my entire life. Or I could do something with the information I had just learned.
I chose the latter path. I decided that I would try to track down my missing spiritual sisters. However, I didn’t know how to go about it. Eventually, I found some books about historical Christian women, but then life got in the way. Due to financial hardship, we had to move back to America. And so I packed my books away.
Junia Thekla Paula Melania
We settled in the city where my family lived. And the Lord went to work on me . . .calling me . . . and I ignored Him again. You see, I loved hanging out in my Dad’s study at the church when I was growing up. Since he was a minister, he shelves were full of books. Looking at those books filled me with awe. So many big thoughts about God! How could people have so many ideas about God? How could you write entire books about the Bible? I dreamed of attending seminary like my father when I grew up. I wanted to read all of those books!
After we settled in America, I remembered my childhood dream. Surely if I enrolled in seminary I could find out about my spiritual forebears! And yet, each time I thought about it, the devil would bombard me with doubts and fears. You’re not smart enough. You’ll never be able to handle writing those advanced-level papers. I listened to that voice of negativity for years.
“The toughest job you’ll ever love . . .”6
Finally, I couldn’t resist the Lord’s voice any longer. I was still scared to death, but I applied to our denomination’s seminary. As soon as I enrolled, I received an email about a new class they were introducing. It was all about women in ancient Christianity! Talk about a divine confirmation.
I wish I could say that everything magically got easier once I started at seminary. It didn’t, though. I was plagued by doubts the entire time. Each time I handed in a final paper, I just knew the professor would laugh at my amateur efforts. Each time I received it back with an “A” grade, I felt like Sally Field at the Oscars. “They like me! They’ll let me stay!”
SAMSUNG
So here I am. I’m old, maybe even old enough to wear purple with a red hat.7 That means I’ve got a lot of time to make up. I’ve got plenty to say about the Bible (and a whole lot of other things) and not much time to do it in.
Maybe a speaking woman is like an ass–but I can tell you one thing, the ass seen the angel when Balaam didn’t.
Jarena Lee8
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Photo Captions. Note: unless otherwise attributed, all photos were taken by me.
L: Repairing a house while on a mission trip to the Navajo Reservation. Pink hats and power tools. Awesome!
“Shallum . . . made repairs, he and his daughters” (Nehemiah 3:12 NASB). Shallum and his daughters were helping to repair the broken walls of Jerusalem after they returned from exile. You go, girls!
The prayer chapel at College Church of the Nazarene in Olathe, KS.
5. Downtown Denver at night. Flickr user: Larry Johnson https://www.flickr.com/people/drljohnson Next to it is a picture of the 16th Street pedestrian mall. Courtesy of Matt Wright at English Wikipedia.
6. Promotional image from PBS. My husband’s sister and her family have a farm in Yorkshire. This means that, like James and Siegfried, I have worn a pair of “wellies” (rubber boots) in a farmer’s barn. Sadly, though, I have not worn ovrealls like Rachel since high school. (Is anyone else old enough to remember wearing overalls with only one strap fastened?)
7. Caernarvon Castle in North Wales. Remember the evil king from Braveheart, Edward I? The Welsh hated him, too. One good reason why is this huge fortress that Edward built when he conquered Wales. The guide at Caernarvon told us that when it was originally built, the native Welsh people were strictly forbidden on pain of death from entering. Somewhere there is a spiritual lesson in that statement.
8. The Crucifixion Window in York Minster Cathedral.
9. From left to right: a kneeling cushion in St. Jame’s Anglican Church in Louth; the Central Tower in York Minster; the High Altar in Lincoln Cathedral.
10. Page from an Anglican calendar of saints. This was given to me by one of my husband’s relatives and remains one of my treasured possessions. Note the female saints that are listed on it.
11. Icon of Andronicus and Junia, “. . . my kinsmen and my fellow prisoners, who are outstanding among the apostles, who also were in Christ before me” (Romans 16:7 NASB). For centuries, the Church accepted Junia as a female apostle. In modern times, however, some biblical scholars have tried to say that she was actually a man, or that she was only “well known to the apostles”. Both views have been thoroughly debunked.
12. Icons of two women who were famous in ancient Christian history. From left to right: Thekla and Macrina. (Courtesy of Axia Women and Wind Ministries. The story of how Thekla followed the apostle Paul, and her near-martyrdom, became a “bestseller” among ancient Christians. St. Macrina was the real-life sister of Sts. Gregory of Nyssen and Basil the Great. Gregory wrote that Macrina immersed herself in the Scriptures from childhood, and rebuked Basil for his love worldly learning.
13. Two of my professors from seminary. I owe them an immeasurable debt of gratitude.
14. From left to right: A book reccommended by my professor. With my professor in my very first class in seminary, Women in Ancient Christianity. Inside the door to my seminary’s library. (My idea of heaven would be to die and be buried here.) In the walkway, you can see the cross with a teal cloth, denoting the season of Ordinary Time in the church calendar.
15. My red hat, encircled by my purple scarf. I have plenty of purple things to wear with my red hat. You’ve been warned.
Footnotes:
Siegried to James when he unexpectedly takes James to visit a farmer. Believing that he had simply come for a job interview, poor James is wearing his dress shoes. He quickly learns that a country vet in England always carries with him a good pair of rubber boots (“wellies”). ↩︎
And since my husband’s family also has a farm, I got to wear a pair of wellies while tramping through a muddy barn, just like James! Sadly, though, I never rocked a pair of overalls like Helen. (Unless you high school, when for some mysterious reason we all went around wearing ovrealls with only one strap fastened.) ↩︎
Obviously, I’m joking. (The British sense of humor has rubbed off on me.) I once took a road trip with my sister and niece, who was in high school. While my sister and I chatted up front, my niece read Jane Eyre in the back. Clearly my niece gets her good literary taste from her aunt.
Chris R. Armstrong, Medieval Wisdom for Modern Christians: Finding Authentic Faith in a Forgotten Age↩︎
Local Preachers are specially trained men and women who can conduct services in the absence of a minister. Because of a shortage of ordained ministers in Britain, LP’s conduct most Methodist services. ↩︎
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”
Old advertisement for the Peace Corp.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. Jenny Joseph, “Warning”
Religious Experience and Journal of Mrs. Jarena Lee, Giving an Account of Her Call to Preach the Gospel, published in 1849.
A Speaking Woman 