At Sacred Alliance, we are committed to telling a better story, perhaps the best story. We champion narratives of real people leading effectively in their corners of the globe for the good of the kingdom. We’re committed to seeing Jesus’ faithful presence in every nook and cranny of this world, and that means all-hands-on-deck: men and women serving shoulder to shoulder in their areas of greatest giftedness.
As we discern God’s call upon our life, seeking to make the most of the life God has given, the still small voice inside is not the most important voice to listen to. Besides the voice of God—heard through God’s Word, prayer, and a community of believers—the most important voice to heed is the voice of our neighbor.
I believe power and authority are lordship issues, not gender issues. The church needs women who are confident in God's call and His willingness to enable them to function with power and authority in such a way that it is His power and authority seen and accepted. I rarely think of the power or authority I have been given unless someone points it out. Rather, I am called to be a servant who delights in serving Him wherever He places me.
This week on the Story Collective our conversation with Jo Saxton, author of The Dream of You: Let Go of Broken Identities and Live the Life You Were Made For, continues as Jo shares her thoughts on life as a black woman, the #MeToo movement, and how men and women can intentionally move the conversation about women in the church forward.
The church service ended and I rushed to the parking lot in a desperate quest to reach the safety of solitude before I burst. Once home, I watched my favorite comfort movie (You’ve Got Mail), took a self-pity power nap, anger-baked two dozen strawberry basil cupcakes, wept until my nasal cavity buzzed from the strain, wrapped a quilt around myself when I couldn’t find my coat and walked around the block in the crisp November air, and finally emailed a friend to confess I was feeling a bit “topsy-turvy.”
My father died in 1994. The day of his funeral was significant for me. Not because of my loss, but because that was the day my sisters confronted the remaining men in our family, my two brothers and me. We had gathered for a meal after the service and social time with friends and extended family. When the meal was finished and the second cups of coffee were poured, the brothers got up from the table and began to make our way to the living room as the men usually did after a family meal.
My sisters, not my blood sisters (I don't have any of those), but my soul sisters and I visited an art museum together last spring. When I'm around these two beautiful women, I feel heard. I feel known. There is no pretense and no anxiety. These two women possess the kind of deep soul beauty that comes from years of belonging to Christ.