A Woman’s Place Is in the Church
For ten years I knew the joy and blessing of leading the women’s ministry in my church. I knew, without a doubt, that I was serving smack-dab in the middle of God’s calling and purpose for my life. I was alive and thriving in my relationship with him, and the ministry, an exciting part of the fabric of our church, was growing.
When my season with this ministry ended and I stepped out of that role, I wondered, What next?
A series of experiences late in my tenure had shaken my confidence. When my heart and mind were in concert, I knew the time to transition leadership was right, and I celebrated it. I believed the Lord had handpicked the next generation of leaders. I believed I was not only being called out of women’s ministry in my church, but I was being called to something else. To something more. But in the deep places of my heart, I was hurting. Unsure. Feeling dismissed. Irrelevant. Doubting the more, doubting my calling, doubting my gifts.
Leadership in the Early Church
Debate over the role and authority of women in the Christian church is as old as the church itself. We have only to read the letters Paul wrote to the churches he founded to glean that Paul himself had no hard-and-fast rule. And yet he always sought out the men in leadership when he arrived in a new town. As we read of his journeys in the book of Acts, we see that each stop begins with a phrase much like “As was his custom, Paul went into the synagogue.” This phrase is telling.
For a town to have a synagogue required at least ten men who were the heads of households. This signified a reasonably established Jewish community. Paul sought out these leaders and first shared his message with them and the members of the synagogue.
The Bible shows us one exception. A brief—so brief we’ll miss it every time—three-verse exception. An exception that is a balm to the heart of a woman who is struggling to know if God can or will use her, who is doubting her place in the church, and who feels as though she might be irrelevant.
When Paul embarked on his second missionary journey, his first stop was the thriving Roman city of Philippi. The Jewish population was so small that there were not ten head-of-household men, which meant no synagogue. Paul could have kept on moving when he discovered there was no Jewish male leadership there. And he didn’t try to create any.
Paul’s primary mission was to preach the gospel. Yes, he deferred to the accepted social order of the day when he could, but in the absence of it, he was not deterred. He didn’t determine that Philippi wasn’t worth his time. Instead Paul and his companions went “outside the city gate to the river, where [they] expected to find a place of prayer. [They] sat down and began to speak to the women who had gathered there” (Acts 16:13 NIV). This gathering place was where Jews and others who worshipped God met for prayer. There Paul met Lydia, a wealthy merchant, and some of her friends. Lydia is described as a worshipper of God. She was a gentile who believed in the one true God and came to study and learn and worship with the other Jewish members of her community. We’re told “the Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul’s message” (v. 14), and then Paul baptized Lydia in the river.
On the faith of one woman who loved God, a church was born.
Lydia’s Legacy
Lydia opened her home to Paul and his companions, and I believe Paul poured into her. She was a woman who loved God and was eager and willing to learn. She was a woman of influence. When Paul left Philippi, he left the church in her care.
The church at Philippi grew and flourished. Yes, it had its problems, as did every other church, but its legacy lives on. It’s best known for its generosity of giving to Paul during his time of need while under house arrest in Rome. Today the town of Lydia is a thriving community surrounding the church of St. Lydia. Built on the location believed to be where Paul baptized Lydia, the church of St. Lydia is a cherished destination for people who come from near and far to be baptized into the body of Christ.
I recently had the privilege of traveling to Greece to follow in the footsteps of Paul. Our first stop was Philippi and the church of St. Lydia. I dipped my toes into the water at the commemorative baptismal site, with my heart full of those questions and doubts. Against the backdrop of wondering what, if any, place I have in the church, I read her story in Acts.
At first, her story was simply familiar. Just three verses. Words on a page. But Lydia wasn’t just there; she was available. She loved God. She heard the message, and God opened her heart to receive Jesus. She responded, and her home became the hub of the new church.
Lydia’s story wrapped around me like a hug. All God needs is a woman who loves him. All God needs is a woman who is willing to hear and believe his message. All he needs is for us to be available.
Whatever the doubts, whatever the questions, the assurance of our place begins with our love for God. What is the more you know God has for you, yet you’re afraid to reach out and embrace it? Lydia’s story doesn’t give us all the answers. It simply tells us one, very important truth: our place is in the church.
Most definitely.
loves doing life with her husband, Blake, morning snuggles with her one-hundred-pound chocolate Lab, French fries, and Chick-fil-A lemonade. She’s an empty-nester mom who prays she didn’t mess up her kids too badly. Her greatest joy is writing about her experiences when Jesus steps on her toes, picks her up, and dusts her off so others can discover him at the intersection of faith and life for themselves. Connect with her at www.deniseroberts.org.
Photograph © Diana Simumpande, used with permission
