Years ago, I read two blog essays posted by Sarah Bessey, "For the Ones Who Leave" and "For the Ones Who Stay" (or something close to that...I don't believe that the original essays are still posted). They were written in 2014, when World Vision USA reversed a decision to change its employment and conduct policy to allow them to hire employees in same sex marriages, after a flood of donors responded to the change by dropping their child sponsorships.
At the time, I was already struggling to figure out whether there was still a place for me within my church tradition, after more than a decade of struggling to find space for myself as a single woman in pastoral ministry. The struggle and grief I felt that people would stop funding programs to support families and children in need because of a policy change that essentially made space for Christians of diverse convictions was significant, and only added to the wrestling I was doing about how to faithfully remain part of the church when the cost to me was becoming increasingly steep.
And it says something that I still remember those two essays more than perhaps any article I read as a seminary student during that same time. And I read more than a few!
They gave me permission and language to acknowledge that faithfulness could be found either in knowing when to walk away into the wilderness, trusting God enough to believe that they would meet me there, or in staying within the church body I was part of, committed to faithfulness in spite of her imperfections. It was an immense relief, and permission to discern which path was the more faithful one for me.
Several years later, it was a clear nudge from God as I was praying one evening that made it clear that the time had come for me to choose the faithfulness of the ones who leave.
In recent weeks, a book called On Holy Ground has been published by the Mennonite Brethren Historical Commission, documenting the stories of fifteen women leaders within the Mennonite Brethren Church. Several people I consider friends have contributed parts of their stories to the book.
I can't bring myself to read it. Even watching the book launch online was challenging.
Subsequently, I learned that the national conferences in Canada and the USA had ordered the book to be reprinted with three pages removed from one of the women's story. The missing pages can be read here.
(However, to be clear, none of what follows is commentary on the book itself--I haven't read it and cannot comment on it. To be clear, my reflections are based instead upon my experiences as a woman who ultimately left the MB Church, which have been brought to the surface by witnessing the news surrounding the book's publication.)
Witnessing these events unfolding has bothered me, in part, I believe, because I have had a front row seat as the stories of so many women within the MB Church have been silenced over the years. Not usually in such dramatic and public ways, but as one after another has left the church after trying so hard to find a way to stay and use her voice and her gifts, but finding it impossible.
And part of my concern is that as these women find places for themselves elsewhere, their stories are lost.
The story of the journey of women in leadership in the Mennonite Brethren Church is not complete without hearing from these voices, too. The voices who are no longer around to tell their stories, to speak of the joys and pains of their journey as women leaders within the conference, and beyond it.
And it is complicated. While those voices are lost in part because of external factors, there are also very good reasons why we may choose not to share our stories publicly, or within the context of the Church tradition from which we've walked away. Nobody owes their story to anyone.
I honour the faithfulness of those who have stayed, who are continuing to share their stories and to work for change--even as I admit that sometimes their stories make me feel inadequate for having to choose the faithfulness of those who leave.
And yet, there has been such life for me in the leaving. I now find a home in a church where I'm able to lead and use my gifts with more freedom than I ever imagined possible. Since my earliest days in Mennonite Church Canada, it has felt like after years of struggle, my skin fits--and I'm profoundly grateful! Without a doubt, I do not regret choosing the faithfulness of those who leave. It was the right decision for me, and the path of faithfulness to which I was called.
Most of my writing is in fact selfish--a way of processing my thoughts and feelings, and an act of reclaiming the voice that I was denied for so long.
But I also write today in case there are others whose stories are those of leaving, who feel that their voices may have been lost in the process, whether in this context or another.
You matter too. Your story is also one of courage, of strength, of faithfulness. It, too, is holy ground.
