Finding My Voice: A Turning Point at Calling Lake

By way of confession, I thought I would share the following story before I jump right into my next book on gender roles. It was an especially meaningful chapter of my journey to discover my place as a woman in the kingdom of God. I know that it is simply an anecdote, and therefore doesn't prove anything with regard to what the Bible says, but I hope it will convince you of my good intentions: that I am not grasping of leadership, not closed to God's leading in this area of my life. My experience in this story also gave me the permission I needed to continue my quest for understanding in this area.

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(c) Becky Bonham

My husband's extended family (about 25 of us) got together over Father's Day weekend earlier this year to spend some time together at my sister-in-law's cabin. In advance, an email had been sent out by the same (very organized) sister-in-law with a proposed schedule for all the basics: dishwashing schedule, meal sharing, etc. There was also a request for a volunteer to lead the Sunday worship time. I wouldn't have responded except that she had specifically clarified that she was looking for a "man or woman" to lead. So, I responded that "if nobody else is interested" in doing it, I'd be willing.

That is how I ended up being in charge of the informal Sunday service at Calling Lake this June.

As it was, I was nervous, as very few if any of my extended family have seen me teach. The confidence with which I normally lead was overshadowed by insecurity at this new audience, in front of whom I would feel especially vulnerable. Not only was I the youngest of the adults, I was a girl. And most of these were Baptists. And one of them - Steve's dad - was a Baptist pastor. By this time, I'd already been reading my Biblical equality book for awhile and had become uncomfortably aware of the differing view of the roles of women in the church. Would I offend anyone by leading, simply because I was female? Or worse, would I speak as a representative of women and screw up?

I revamped a Sunday School talk that I had given at our church a few years' previously on Matthew 16:24-26, on what it means for us in our daily lives to take up our crosses and follow Jesus. I felt good about it the first time I'd taught on it, so it seemed like a safe bet to use again. But then I thought about my Baptist-pastor-father-in-law and I was plagued with doubts: Had I got my facts right? Were my hermeneutics correct? I checked and double-checked my notes and attempted to calm myself.

Then, the night before I was to lead, I lost my voice. Only one out of every three syllables I spoke was audible. I was sniffling nonstop. All I wanted to do was sleep. Well, that and teach, which was why I didn't ask Steve right then to see if anyone else would be able to take my place. Despite my fears, my nervousness, and my second-guessing of myself, I wanted to do this. Teaching is in my blood. So, I went to bed and hoped for the best.

(c) C. Derkson

During the course of the night, I woke up many times to cough, blow my nose, or suck on another cough drop.  In my half-sleep I prayed, "Please let me get over this by morning." As I tossed and turned, a thought occurred to me: What if God was trying to tell me something by this sudden, poor-timed illness? What if I wasn't supposed to teach tomorrow? Or ever? And so I prayed a second time, "Lord, if you want me to do this, then please, let me get well. But if you don't, then...don't." I drifted back to sleep for awhile, only to wake up again, with the thought of how painful it would be if God responded by choosing not to heal me, how hurtful if his answer was indeed, "Despite your passion, despite your preparation, and despite your desire to share my own words with others, I don't want you to teach - because of your sex." Unable to bear the weight of such a thought, I released it to God and drifted back into a fitful sleep.

I woke up an hour before the service was to begin and my voice was completely gone. Surely now was the time to find a replacement. Still, I resisted. In my stubbornness, I got up, looked over my notes and went to the kitchen to make myself some honey and lemon tea. Within minutes, I began to find my voice.

And so, with a quiet but steady voice, I shared from my heart that Sunday morning in the presence of the entire Bonham family. And I believe God blessed it. Several family members jumped into the discussion. At one point, a brother-in-law responded to my comment about how I felt recently that I was "living in the 'no' of God" and I was given a brief opportunity to share a bit more personally a few details of my struggles over the last few years that I'd never gotten to share with any of them before. The discussion was lively and continued until, getting nervous that I was letting it go on too long, I asked for a volunteer to close in prayer. At this point, another brother-in-law interrupted and asked if he could share a few more thoughts, and the discussion continued for another half hour or so. My father-in-law never spoke, but in the end he prayed and mentioned me by name, thanking God for what I had to share with everyone this morning.

Afterward, several family members approached me to thank me for sharing. My sister-in-law commented on my obvious passion for teaching. My brothers-in-law told me how much they enjoyed the discussion. Even my teenaged nephew said, "That was really good, Auntie Becky." (!!) I didn't even think the teenagers in the group would even be listening to what I had to say! A short while later, my father- and mother-in-law came over and gave me hugs, telling me I'd done a good job. The apprehension I had felt earlier was washed over with relief and a profound sense of joy - because I'd done what I love, I did it well, and I felt affirmed in doing it, both by my family and by God, who healed me just in the nick of time.

With respect for the private details of these real people and my relationships with them, I'll simply say that it was a turning point in some of those relationships. I felt that a few misconceptions fell away that day and my loved ones got a truer glimpse of who I really am. Doors were opened in relationships that had remained closed up to that point. Discussions have since been enlarged, to cover more topics and embrace deeper passions. In the end, I have felt more known by my family than I had ever felt in the past, and to my relief, that was a blessing and not a curse.

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