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.
