God as Woman: #WhyIStayed

I have no idea why I am writing this at this present moment – in the midst of theological colloquy papers and field education case studies, I should clearly be focused on writing scholastically. However, I have wanted to write this for a while in the purview of what happened with the Ray Rice and Janay Palmer domestic violence tragedy that swirled out of control in the media. After the video of Janay Palmer being physically abused and accosted by her husband (NFL player) Ray Rice surfaced, there was a storm of backlash she received for staying with Ray Rice. As woman who has never experienced domestic violence in a relationship such as Janay Palmer, I felt very conflicted as I watched people attempt to snatch every bit of Palmer’s agency by defaming her name, questioning her intelligence, and attributing her loyalty to Rice as a bi-product of her desire for material wealth. How did anything about Janay Palmer’s personhood have anything to do with Ray Rice’s actions? Needless to say, I was so happy to see the #WhyIStayed hashtag campaign arise to give space for women’s voices to speak their truths as it related to domestic violence cases.

Soon thereafter, I began thinking of relationships, spaces, and places that I remained even despite of abuse I was suffering. Though, as I stated previously, I have never had a man lay his hands on me (besides the one whoopin I got from my Dad as a child), I started to realize that I had experienced an abusive relationship – that was my relationship with my church. I had given so much of myself, so blindly, to my church throughout my time in youth ministry that I was almost shocked that my calling to ministry would not be affirmed. But on that day when I went to the church leadership to confess my calling, I was stiff armed with every scripture in the Bible containing expectations of women’s silence, submission, and servitude within the church. It was very damaging, now that I look back on it.

One would think that it would just be easy to pack your stuff and leave at the very moment that your truth, worth, and personhood was denied. But it wasn’t that simple. I had ties in my church. I had family – biological and extended. I had worked so hard to cultivate meaningful relationships with my youth and the leaders of the church. God had given me a vision for moving the young people forward in their relationship with God and that is what I was doing. My leaving, or even standing up for myself to be recognized as a minister, just didn’t seem like an option when other people’s souls were at stake. So, I stayed. I stayed because I felt that my voice wasn’t as important as the well-being of my kids. I stayed because I figured I could handle the abuse (being used for ministry excessively while not being recognized as minister) because I was comfortable with what I did have. I stayed because I thought it was where God wanted me to be. Sounds eerily similar to women who have suffered abusive relationships at the hands of their spouses.

After a time of feeling choiceless, voiceless, and suffocated – I finally left my church to seek out God’s call on my life. Even though I did enter fellowship with a church where I could affirm my calling, it has taken me up till very recently to really begin the process of healing. Abusive relationships that deny, negate, or harm your personhood have a tendency to seep into your soul in places you would never think to look. Even now that I am in divinity school, I watch as I second-guess myself and my calling time and time again; and, before now, I never had a problem with self-confidence.

In the aftermath of dealing with #WhyIStayed, I am so thankful that this theological journey has begun teaching and showing me a new way of looking at God. Just before I began my first year at Vanderbilt divinity school, God showed me a dream/vision (yes I believe that God speaks, through the power of the Holy Spirit, to people in dreams). In my dream/vision, I was asleep in my bed, the daylight had already broken, but it was still fairly early. A woman – a regal and royal Black woman – walked into my room. She had deep chocolate skin and was slightly heavy set. She had on a shiny, light blue and green looking suit and hat to match. She was a fly church mother if I ever saw one. As she walked into my room, I became so startled because I did not know who she was. She walked around to the opposite side of my bed and she stood there, looking over me. I began to try to get up and scream for help, but just then my body became paralyzed and my tongue stuck to the top of my mouth. She smiled at me, calmly, then proceeded to get onto her knees and pray. Calmness and peace quickly took over me as she prayed. And, then the vision/dream ended.

I believe that God was preparing me to understand the embodiment of God’s divinity in womanhood. Typically, in most churches (especially Black churches), we use he-language and father-language to describe God. But I reckon that the vision God gave me was something like the transfiguration experience Peter, James, and John had as recorded in the synoptic gospels. I believe that Jesus was in my room that morning, showing me a divine manifestation in the form of a woman. I know for some people this is a difficult comparison – however, I would contend that the blood and tears that flow from women make us more like Jesus, who when pierced water and blood flowed out, than any other species.

I am praying that in my time of healing and preparation in becoming a theologian and minister I am able to better understand and utilize what Dean Townes calls Liberating Theological Language. We have, for far too long, made our language and our interpretation of scripture too literalistic about God. There is nothing in our language that can capture the fullness of who God is – therefore, all language about God must be seen as metaphorical as ways that we see God acting in the world and how we experience God. I stand in agreement with theologian Sallie McFague who affirms the awesome responsibility and power of metaphorical theology by saying the power of metaphor helps us uncouple our tendencies to make generalizations about who God is and who we are.

In a time when people are wrestling with the very question asked in Exodus 17:7, “Is the Lord among us or not?,” I believe we must be asking where we have seen God and through whom we have experienced God thus far. For me, I have experienced God most through the sacrifices and teaching of the women who came before me. For others, they see God in those who are sick, homeless, or oppressed. And, still for others, God may be among us in nature and creation. Either way, it is my sincere hope that we as leaders of today and tomorrow continue to find new ways to describe and experience God so that no more of God’s sons and daughters have to experience abuse at the hands of the church who continues to one-dimensionalize an infinite God.