Permission to Flourish

I have a particular knack for biblical Greek. It's not a talent that has gotten me far in life, having an aptitude for a language that is no longer spoken anywhere in the world, but nonetheless, I found my niche in my final year of seminary and, as it turns out, finished my degree with my highest grade yet. (My final grade in Biblical Greek 2 was high enough that my professor apologized for tweaking it because the university's computer system wouldn't accept a course grade any higher than 100%--thank you bonus marks!) And yet, I found myself consciously allowing everyone in my biblical Greek class to believe that my male classmate was the one who really had it all figured out, not me. What did it matter, really, if it was more comfortable for everyone to believe that he was at the top of the class, even if I knew fully well that it wasn't exactly true?

I worked as a junior high youth pastor for four years before leaving that job to pursue my dream of seminary studies. When I left, in spite of the fact that I had a university degree in youth ministry and six years of volunteer youth ministry leadership experience prior to taking that job, a man announced at a church business meeting that my position had been 'developmental' and that I had been hired without fully meeting the position criteria. It was blatantly untrue, but somehow it was widely accepted nonetheless. And neither I nor anybody else said anything to correct him.

I sat in many church meetings in which I would offer an opinion that went largely unheard, until a man would repeat virtually the same thing. Suddenly, it was brilliant.

Stories like mine are far too common for women in ministry, especially within certain Christian traditions in which the legitimacy of having women assume leadership roles are still subjects of vigorous debate. In which the glass ceiling is alive and well.

And, to be honest, most of the time I was so grateful just to be given the opportunity to do what I loved in whatever capacity I could get that I was happy to shrink myself to a comfortable size, and to depend on the good will of male colleagues, in order to be allowed to have a place at the table. Every time I preached, or led worship, it was with the very real fear that I might not be given the opportunity to do so again.

But then, two weeks ago, someone presented me with a pointed challenge: "Kathy, you're a pastor. You need to bring your pastoral gifts to the table. Nobody else can do it for you. And you don't want to be left in the future wondering what might have turned out differently if you had brought your very best pastoral presence to the situation."

It was perhaps the first time someone has called me out on my complicity, on my tendency to shrink just enough to make everyone else comfortable. It was the first time that someone has called me to accountability for not squandering the gifts that God has placed within me, and instead challenged me to bring the very best that I have to offer every time, regardless of what anyone else might say. It was the first time I'd really felt challenged to STOP. MAKING. MYSELF. SMALL.

And, because I deeply respect and trust the person who called me out, I have been trying really hard to live into this permission to be the best, most pastoral, self that I can be in the work that God has called me to. I've really tried to live into the invitation to see the situations that I come across through pastoral lenses, and to think about what a pastoral solution might be. I've really tried to love unapologetically, instead of second-guessing my instincts. I've given myself permission to embrace the deep joy that I feel when I'm doing this work that God has created me to do.

And, wouldn't you know it, I'm happier now that I've given myself permission to embrace the gifts fully and unapologetically. When I lean into the gift and ask myself, what kind of pastoral words might this conversation call for, I feel like I'm being more fully true to who I am. I'm happier. I have more energy for my work. I'm really and truly enjoying what I do.

Too many of us are still shrinking to fit within the boxes that the church has offered us, and the whole Kingdom of God is losing out as a result. And I wonder what kind of courage it might take for me to offer someone else the same gift that my friend offered me--the gift of permission to flourish, to be fully and unapologetically the person that God has created her to be, regardless of what anyone else might say.

It's easy to expend a lot of energy grieving the systems that create this dynamic in the first place--and that is a legitimate thing to grieve over. I've done plenty of grieving of my own. But instead of waiting for a system to change, when we know systems move so very slowly, what about subversively and lovingly changing things for one person at a time? What about intentionally looking for those places where gifts are being hidden, and inviting people to step fully into their true selves?

Marianne Williamson wrote, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."

What if we work to change the system from the bottom up, by banding together and encouraging one another to step into our power?

I'm so grateful that someone did it for me!