When I was a little girl I grew up in a church that welcomed different kinds of people and women were in leadership. I was about 12 years old when I sat at the alter during a worship service telling God I wanted to talk with Him every day like Moses talked with Him at the burning bush. I wanted our communication to be clear. I wanted it to be holy. I also believed it meant God was calling me to executive level leadership, one that helps communities transition into the promises that God has for them. My dreams were big. The only thing keeping me from them was time.

Fast forward, I am in my mid-30s, and carrying the pain and privilege of what it means to be a woman in the ministry. Now, the only thing keeping me from those dreams is well…(sigh).

I still believe I am called to move into arena’s that mostly men function. I also believe I am a forerunner, carving a way for others, hoping they’ll be inspired by how God has used me and look introspectively to see how they can also be used by God and go further than I could have ever imagined.

About three years ago I hit a wall. Not an emotional wall, but a wall of disillusionment. I believe I was fighting for my calling as a leader and experiencing a season of refinement. (My second book is all about leading in church when you don’t know who you are. That’s for later though.)

In those three years I was disrespected, misunderstood, experienced friendly fire from women, and was shy about telling people the truth of what I believe God is asking of me. I was overlooked. I was not chosen. I was told spots were full then watched others get those spots.

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I remember being pregnant with my second child and carrying a battle cry sound within my spirit. I didn’t realize my transition from a working mom to a stay at home mom would literally put me at the end of my ministry career in people’s minds.

I became invisible and minimized, even more minimized than before as a children’s pastor. 

I learned I wasn’t feminine enough.

I learned I wasn’t eloquent enough.

I was a dreamer with my head in the clouds and…

My home wasn’t nice enough for parties and ministry meetings. (Don’t worry! We still host so many gatherings.)

Having big dreams was literally, not even an option for the first time in my life. I felt like these dreams were sin, weren’t going to happen, and “How dare I for thinking this way?” “Who do I think I am?”

I was fighting to breathe, spiritually speaking. I carried a smile on my face because I know God was faithful and others have it worse than me. I knew God loved me even when other people didn’t accept me. So I started researching and evaluating, looking for my calling as a leader with a big capacity, a big heart, and big dreams. I would search to find if there was another kind of calling that I might be able to adopt and fit into. There wasn’t one.

In that season the Lord began to speak to me through the story of Hannah in the Old Testament. He asked me “Are you willing to look crazy and carry something impossible?” Strange as it sounds “impossible” doesn’t scare me. It was an easy “Yes!”.

Later the Holy Spirit asked me “Are you willing to be misunderstood to birth something significant?” I had to struggle through the insecurity of leaders assuming I had an agenda, was seductive, or cherry—picking, before I could say “yes” acknowledging “this will hurt though.” Honestly, this was the question that broke me. The thing I want more than anything was to be understood and then supported. Choosing the call of God on my life more than being understood by leaders gives me life-threatening levels of anxiety. (I’m a six on the enneagram if you didn’t figure it out yet. We like safety!)

I don’t just want someone to hear me, I want them to understand me and then show me to an open door.

In First Samuel, God showed me Hannah was a woman who was barren. In her culture it was looked down upon if a woman could not give birth. She greatly desired a baby, in addition to all of the favor and blessing she already had from her husband. Instead of being thankful and shutting up, her heart was filled with sorrow because she desired more. I realized that it is okay that I am desiring for more.

Hannah wanted a baby so bad that in the temple she cried. She presented her most honest self to the Lord. The priest thought she was crazy to be drunk in the temple. He misunderstood her. He casually blessed her after her humble response to his embarrassing rebuke.

I looked around for open doors to begin developing the gift of communication. Every door I looked at was closed to me. I saw other women walk through due to relationship, or age, or something else I didn’t have. I saw other men gain opportunity, my own husband even.

I eventually started asking “What is wrong with me?”

I became convinced “If I’m not being picked, surely I’m the one who is wrong. I am not hearing God correctly.”

This lie was the rope I began to hang myself on.

Every day for two months, I would wake up in tears repenting for waking up with the desire to preach and the desire to be a higher level leader. I confessed of pride, for wanting the spotlight, for trying too hard on my own strength. I served every Sunday and filled the spots a sick or flaking volunteer left vacant.

I doubted my gifts. Believing: If I heard God wrong, then my gift of administration is only good enough for events, not good enough for organizations. If I heard God wrong, I believed my leadership is only good enough for two children but not a staff. If I heard God wrong, my discernment was way off and I would have to settle for living a life that was unfulfilling because that’s what a living sacrifice is.

Except that’s NOT what a living sacrifice is. (Perception isn’t always reality and this reality we live in is only a blink in time. Reality isn’t always truth.)

Through it all I asked the Holy Spirit to take the desire to preach away, the desire to lead away, and tell me what He wants from me. After all I desperately and sincerely want to please the Lord.

Listen friends, I’m one tough cookie. I’ve been through church plants, church splits, and people hating me or my family. I’ve lost friends, I’ve seen people use my personal life for their gossip channels, or their own excuse to stop following the Lord. Yes, it all hurt and I own my mistakes, but this experience was different. It was like someone was trying to slowly peel my muscles off of my bones. My calling and my faith are supposed to work together and they were being pulled apart.

I knew I was called but lack of growth and wanting to submit to authority can be a toxic mix if you don’t have discernment and support among other things. Getting lost in the narrative of our secular world is also toxic. Being thought of having been bit by the secular feminist movement makes me want to throw up but what people perceive is their reality.

I asked myself and my husband these questions every night, frustrated, lost and in tears:

Is God really faithful?

Did ALL of the people who prophesied over me so many years before get it wrong?

Have I been hearing God wrong my entire life? If so, where did that start and how do I correct it?

Do I belong in this local church?

Why would God give me a gift to develop and use if my church has closed doors to me in this area?

Is God really in sovereign control? More in control than the decisions that leaders make.

Am I really that far off? Did I really miss it that much?

Am I really not a leader called to big things? Why do we keep preaching that then?

What is my blind spot? Why won’t anyone tell me what my problem is?

What did I do wrong?

And why is no one telling me what I did wrong?

Do people not really care?

Am I really hearing God wrong? Am I really that off?

During that season, my husband took care of the kids every morning so I could sleep in. He did all the things, for so many mornings in a row. Then there was one morning I’ll never forget—

The sun shining through my curtains and it woke me up. My soul was wounded as my faith battled against logic and my humanity. No amount of research could resolve up to this point. I didn’t cry. I was numb. Things were slow like time had paused. My spirit and soul felt silent. There was no substance, like Jesus in the tomb after an excruciating journey to the cross. There was nothing. I had no drive, no motivation, no rest, no dreams, only one new question.

“What if there is nothing wrong with me?”

After eight exhausting weeks of waking up with sadness, living in a pinterest level of cleanliness (which my husband misses now-LOL), and looking up symptoms of depression after sending my son off to school, I emailed a woman who was an elder in our church. We started at the beginning:

She asked me “How are you spirit, soul, and body?”

We began to unravel this inner dialogue I was having. I believed she was on my side and for the first time I felt heard and understood. She inspired me to bloom where I was planted and to keep writing, among other things.

She told me about her trips, preaching in other nations and about 200+ people being at the alter. She said “It is so fulfilling.” I needed to hear that word “fulfilling.”

I think going through a season like this has definitely purified my motives, adjusted my language, and caused me to do more research. Overall my idea’s have been stretched so now I wonder how much MORE God could do through me? The closed doors I faced grew the vision I had for my life. Only with God can a barrier bring you to the beginning of an entire journey!

I learned not to keep track of how many times I was misunderstood or mistreated.

I learned to share more mercy and to forgive faster.

I learned more about my identity as a Woman of God.

I learned how to handle not being approved of by women or men.

I learned how to trust my husband even if he couldn’t answer my questions.

I learned how to stay serving with a good attitude even when I saw other people care less about breaking their commitments to the church.

I learned how to dig deep, feel all the feelings, and at the end of the day still surrender and pray “God put me on the right side of the line.” 

Because there is a line—

Sometimes I feel like there is a line in the sand, and we choose if we are going to cross it. Then I feel like there are other times that I have no idea which side to pick and I need to just obey the Holy Spirit one day at a time.

Somehow the right side of the line looked like honoring authority and still following God’s plan for my life, but I didn’t know how that was possible with an invisible wall in front of me.

Being a woman in the ministry is very confusing and difficult. It’s something like darwinism at its best, only the fittest survive. It’s terrible.

Listen, I have good parents, grew up in a great church, married a great husband, and I know the Bible very well. I hear God very clearly and I still struggled to believe if the call on my life was real. I cry now thinking about other women who don’t have that same foundation or even a personal relationship with Jesus— how much more lost and disillusioned are they in our churches and in our communities?

In time though, the silence in my soul began to shift, like a stone being rolled away. Evidence of a new day was dawning. A more confident leader emerged, a smarter woman is present now and carries my name. I’m more qualified for the calling than I ever was, and I still believe it’s big even though I can’t define it all. It’s amazing how our stories of pursuing Christ reveal truths of the Gospel and highlights our humanity so others know who the true Savior is.

Do I still worry when John MacAurther tells Beth Moore to go home? Yes. I’m not at the top of the list of women in my church who would be asked to preach if someone called tomorrow.

Do I still battle fear? Yes, however I am more skilled with my Sword than I was before. I stand in victory because of what Christ has done and I keep worship and audio Bible on ALL. THE. TIME.

Am I confident in what I can bring to the table and share in my community? Yes, God wouldn’t have put me here if I wasn’t a small piece of the puzzle.

Am I learning how to articulate my call and my message? Yes. I hope I am always learning and growing.

Is it my hearts desire to honor those in authority and especially those woman who have gone before my time? One hundred percent YES!

I am grateful for the women who have gone before me. Women in the ministry have hard callings. The women who are preaching in public, the women who are asking hard questions in private and the women wondering what their role is right now.

Dear ladies, keep crying, keep praying, keep reading the Word. Continue serving and filling the open spots on Sunday mornings. Don’t give up on your Bible study group when your busy or tired. I know this is true, you will be where God wants you. What you steward today will birth what God will have you steward tomorrow. So steward what it is in front of you faithfully, with humility, and with excellence; and make it fun! That helps when it’s hard.

What’s your story? What do you think about women in ministry? Scroll down and leave a comment, I’d love to hear from you.

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