By Joshua Canada:

As a child, I was enthralled with the things of God. I felt faith. I felt the mystery of this God I could not see, but whose presence I deeply felt. The stories of the Bible were magical. Something in my imaginative nature connected with the sense of the people of God, spread across time and space, and I loved it.

My dad was my very first mentor, praying with me each night, answering all of my inquisitive ponderings. It was my dad who introduced me to studying the Bible. When I was in third grade Dad came home with a box of colored pencils and an inductive Bible study book designed for children. It was the book of John, which to this day remains my favorite Gospel. My dad and I spent the next few months making lists, comparing and contrasting, and looking up Greek words in his concordance and lexicon. I ate it up.

When we finished the study of John, my dad asked if I would like to join the group of college students that met in our home to do their own inductive Bible study. I joined the group and was granted the extra benefit of staying up past my bedtime to participate. Again, I ate it up. I listened to the students ask questions and debate finer points of doctrine or theology.

More than that, I received my first glimpse into what true Christian community could be. We prayed for each other, knew each other, and explored the things of God together. I also saw the Word of God as a living breathing thing that I wanted to immerse myself in, each new book was a new adventure, and by the time I graduated high school I had studied most of the Old and New Testaments this way. I had learned that God wanted me to pursue him, that it was good to ask questions and seek truth, and that these things often happened in community.

I went to college at Taylor University, which shaped my life and taught me about Christian community in more ways than I can say. I entered college passionate about discipleship. I wanted to win over the world, which my first roommate found incredibly strange. I toned it down a bit, and learned a lot about people and a lot about myself.  By the end of my college experience I had spent a couple of years heavily invested in student development and believed I had found my calling, a way to love people and walk with them in their spiritual lives. So I completed a Master’s Degree in Student Development and spent a year as an RD before moving to Chicago to be married.

It was at this time that I started attending Church of the Redeemer Anglican in Highland Park. At this point, most of my deep and positive experiences of Christian community came from outside of the church. In fact, I was not sure I even sure if I believed in the corporate church anymore. At best I had been in churches that felt lifeless, and at the worst I had been in places that felt stifling and hurtful.

Then came Redeemer. The first few months I felt such walls in me. I hated the sermons because they seemed to call for so much of me, the parts I was not willing to give, especially in church. Could this place be trusted? And then after months of feeling this way I began to cry during the sermons instead, tears of relief, of connection. This pastor got it. He loved people, and it was evident, yet there was no compromising of the truth of scripture, of God. And then one Sunday that pastor asked me how I was and I was honest with my current discouragement and began to cry, only to look up to see the pastor himself welling up a bit, and not only that, but taking my angst. What was this, such genuine human connection at church?

Something in me shifted, and Redeemer began to “redeem” church for me. I could feel all of the passion that I had felt for Christian community outside the church welling up in me for this place.

About a year later, Redeemer was in need of a Children and Family Pastor, and long story short, I was hired for the position. I took it thinking that it would be more administrative in nature, a director, perhaps of Children’s Ministry. But the amazing thing was, I was brought into the very heart of what happened at the church. The staff mentored me, but also treated me as a peer, as someone who had valuable things to offer. Soon I began to feel less like staff at a church and more like a shepherd.

Long before I could see these things in my self, the pastors at Redeemer saw them, and kept drawing them out of me. Little by little, I became a pastor, and my world made sense. I didn’t even see it coming, and some days I still doubt greatly that I could be afforded the luxury of that calling.

I had devoted myself to ministry outside of the church because ministry and leadership outside of the church was the only option I had ever been given. Growing up I had never seen a woman pray in church, preach, usher, or lead worship by herself. Yet here I was, shepherding little people, and their parents, and using all of my gifts. My doubts of myself have been met with love. It is the community at Redeemer, and my dear friends and fellow pastors that have connected the dots of my passions and gifts and affirmed my calling, my calling to be a pastor. Without this community, it is something I never would have gone looking for, and yet here I am filled with deep love and joy for the people of God, seeking to serve.

This is a sort of first person witness statement to God’s hand at work in ways we couldn’t imagine.

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know that Jesus loved me. The language of my home, parents, grandparents, and the church I belong to (The Church of the Nazarene) celebrated women as leaders – and ordained leaders. The local congregation my Canadian-prairie family belonged to had been planted by two women. My parents (my dad, a New Testament scholar; my mum a leader and specialist in autism and special needs education) both celebrate loving God, excellence in education, have a hospitable home where responsibilities are shared, and their strong and committed engagement to the church was and is joyful. I had a great home life.

I was also shaped by other forces – normal teen-stuff, insecurities, and culture-bending-truth –by the time I was a late teen I had bracketed women – myself included – into narrow niche roles. So – although I began to experience ‘nudges’ by God towards ministry of a particular type – pastoral, leadership, prophetic-witness and such from very early on, I resisted with all my might. I wanted to be married, to have children, to be normal. I wanted to be an historian/vet/doctor/nurse…

But – there was a conspiracy by God. Because I was an immigrant into the UK my options narrowed until I had one short-term option left: a certificate in theology. I started on a cold, wet, dark January day, and felt like all the lights went on. I loved the study, learning about God; thinking, wrestling, being challenged. I felt at home studying Scripture and loved trying to think about talking about God in practice… living out good news.

So – ah ha! I’ll MARRY someone going into ministry (I thought) – but, over the year I found myself more and more prompted – directed – called. Until, that is, one huge (in my memory) night when I prayed, wrestled, cried and said a final/beginning yes of all of the yes’s of the rest of my life. Then and there life changed – I started telling people and the responses were interesting. ‘Oh no’ said one person, ‘Oh Deirdre, do you know what you’re doing?’ said another, ‘are you ready for opposition?’ I was asked. One said that our relationship was over; he couldn’t consider going out with/marrying someone in ministry. Amongst my peers there was a lot of ‘yes’, and the 1990s equivalent of ‘you go, girl’ – and some of the people in my circle of friends immediately began to support, care, pray, endorse, encourage and commit to walking with me on the journey.

I was naïve but called. I went through various interviews and worked to find godly replies to questions I was asked. ‘Could you be a nurse or teacher instead?’ a well-intentioned leader asked. ‘Can’t you just teach Sunday school?’, ‘no woman should preach’, others said. Some of my colleagues in the classroom argued (strongly) on all kinds of bases that I was out-of-step/sinning/disobedient/mis-hearing – but others were formidable advocates – and I am thankful for them to this day.

I continued to sense God’s yes – and whatever gifts I had I felt God could use. Others affirmed me in leadership and in their willingness to disciple me. I felt and feel incredibly drawn towards the urban and issues of justice and love/d engaging in urban environments.

I continued my studies, continued to receive support – and then I began to pastor – and God’s ‘yes’ seemed present. I felt whole. One of the most significant days of my life was being ordained in front of my church family and wider family – and hearing the church’s Yes as well. I pastored – youth, adults, anyone and studied more, combined study and pastoring, nearly burned out, learned hard lessons about God’s call and God’s-love-for-the-world, about God’s working in, through, and beyond his servants. I learned (a bit) to allow other people to fight for me – and honestly felt/feel very affirmed as a leader – and a person. I eventually married a man who loves me in my whole-being – and supports and advocates for me – and other women.

About three years ago I was asked to be the Principal of Nazarene Theological College in Manchester, UK. I agreed – and discovered God’s call had taken a different shape and form than I could have imagined. I felt that God’s direction pointed me here. I feel blessed by the team I work with – we wrestle, think, challenge each other – and thoroughly enjoy developing and innovating in the ways we try to prepare men and women to serve God’s mission wherever that takes them.

In this role, though, I re-discovered things I’d genuinely forgotten! Because I’d been part of the same local congregation since 2000 and then pastoral team leader and genuinely accepted as such – I’d TRULY forgotten there are people who believe women should not lead, or speak about God in the public sphere. I’d not thought much about my gender – I’d just been trying to be obedient to urban ministry and its needs. So, to come into a place of church-wide leadership and encounter ways women are discussed and silenced has been the biggest shock to my system! I knew I needed to learn new skills and new modes of leading but I hadn’t been prepared for the first time I sat around the table with a group of peers and was ignored – utterly – by them. So – I’m re-learning things that I’d forgotten. Trying to be polite but firm. Trying to demonstrate grace and listening. Trying to voice and empower others. Trying to listen to God’s voice first and foremost – and ask what fear is at work in trying to silence those God might be calling.

I’ve questioned my (their) understanding of the pneuma – and the church’s understanding of what God can and can’t do, but essentially I’ve discovered over and again that God is faithful, does call me, and that God is profoundly good news – for all the world. God’s refrain via the angel – ‘do not be afraid’ – seems a good one for nothing was/is easy, but God-with-ness transforms the journey through challenges to the other side of saying ‘yes’: where it is good to serve in whatever way God leads and then wait with baited breath for what God will do with you

When I tweeted for good news stories about women in ministry, Jane Halton, up in Vancouver, wrote in to tell the story of her church … and, prompted just a little from a few questions I asked, this is her post about women in ministry in the Christian Reformed Church and specifically in her own congregation.

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When I first read Scot’s tweet, I immediately thought of all the good news for women within my own congregation and how we stand out within in the not-so-good-news for women within our denomination.

The following is a summary (with some commentary) of the Women in Ecclesiastical Office description on the CRCNA website.

The CRC began to talk (at synod) about policies that disallowed women in any ordained position in 1970. Over twenty-five years and ten committees later, the first three women were approved as candidates for Ministry of the Word at synod in 1996.  To this day, synod still allows for classes (geographically grouped churches) that don’t believe in the ordination of women to continue this practice.

Women couldn’t be delegates at Synod until 2007 but as recently mentioned inThe Banner, “Eight years after synod declared that women can be delegated to synod, that representation is less than 7 percent. None of this year’s female delegates are pastors, and none of them were appointed to be chairs or reporters of advisory committees.”

In 2014, out of the 1940 ordained persons in the CRC, less than 5% (88) are women and 8% (16) of the 187 delegates at Synod were women. (Quoted from an email from theYearbook office at the CRCNA).

What is really discouraging to me is that there is currently no official movement toward fixing these dismal numbers. Because the CRC holds both positions (to ordain and not to ordain women) as ‘Biblical’ there is resistance to further support women’s ordination (or even offer any support to specifically women) because it may be seen as taking ‘sides’ rather than equipping women to do the job they were ordained to do.

Despite the limited support for women within the denomination, my church, First Christian Reformed Church Vancouver has been promoting ‘good news’ for women in ministry for decades.

In my attempt to learn more about the history of women in my own congregation I spoke with long time church member and current elder, Elsy TerMaat. Here is a bit about what I learned from her wonderful story.

In 1969 Bastiaan (Bas) Nederlof (Elsy’s father), a strong supporter of women in office, became the pastor at First. Pastor Nederlof even spoke up about his support of women in office at synod, where he was a delegate over ten times.

Around 1984, when female deacons were first permitted in the CRC, Elsy (Pastor Nederlof’s daughter) was approached by council to stand for a position. She didn’t feel her gifts were that of a deacon but more of an elder, so she declined (more than one request!).

In 1999, a few years after women were permitted as elders, Elsy was asked to stand as an elder, but lost the vote (to a man). Later that year, when one of the elders moved away, Elsy was ordained as the first female elder at First and was installed by her own father, Bas.

Elsy attended synod as a delegate for the first time in 2010 and spoke against a motion that would allow churches who didn’t support women in office but who were in a classis that did support women to in office to be able to move to a different classis that held a similar belief. This motion was denied.

At First CRC Vancouver, soon after the first female elder, came the first female preacher.  Willemina Zwart, a Regent College seminary student, was the first woman to preach at First. One of the male congregants (who was vocal when he disagreed with something) was heard saying “Oh, that is what the church has been fighting about for all these years!” (inferring it was no big deal).

When I asked Willemina about this experience she replied, “I didn’t know that I was the first woman to preach at First CRC Vancouver.  That’s hilarious…in that I didn’t know until just now!  My experience at First is a major part of my call story…I think enough to say that if it hadn’t have been for my experience and key people there, I’m not sure I would have had the courage to follow God’s call into ordained ministry within the CRC.”   We are good news for women! (We’ve had at least three other female interns since Willemina go on the become the first female pastor of their congregation)

All of the pastors after Pastor Nederlof also supported women in office and in 2007, including Pastor Henry Numan. Pastor Numan was instrumental in Julia Vanderveen’s call to ministry and in 2007 Julia and Trevor Vanderveen were installed as the first co-pastoring couple at First (and, thus Julia became the first female pastor).

Currently, Julia and Trevor share a 1.25 pastoral position. Julia works part-time and spends much of her remaining hours caring for three boys under seven.

Her role as pastor includes leading parts of the worship services such as communion, baptisms, and preaching. She also teaches some adult Sunday school, does pastoral care visits and many other random things pastors find themselves doing.

My favourite thing to experience is when Julia at the helm is a sermon because that is how I experience it: I am being taken on a trip into scripture and I want to hold on, listen and learn. Her sermons are passionate, poignant and her enthusiasm for worship is contagious. She cares deeply about the scriptures and the spiritual life of her congregation. She uses her strong voice and her emotions without apology. She was also the first woman to preach at five other CRC churches.

In 2013, First CRC hit another milestone in support of women, without any celebration or dissent, Caroline Short was elected the first female chair of council. At first I wasn’t sure if the quiet way she was ordained to this position was actually ‘good news.’ Should we celebrate or be grateful that it was so normal?

Her ordination was preceded the year before by four women being appointed as elders. And then during the next installation Caroline became the chair.  As I sat in the pews, pleased as punch, it occurred to me that she must be the first female head of council.  Perhaps no one said anything because our church is so accustomed to having women elders and Julia as one of our pastors. But it still felt like it needed to be noted. I brought it up during ‘coffee time’ after church and some people said it had occurred to them that she was the first woman, but most just said, “Oh yeah, I bet that is right,” and offered no sense of victory.  I still feel a bit torn between “Wow, we have achieved normalcy,” and “No wait, we still need to celebrate!”

My hope and prayer is that the support women have received and the “normalcy” we have experienced in Vancouver will become a common place as more women are called, equipped and supported in their God given gifts with in the CRC.

I never intended to be a pastor.  If you’d told me in high school or in college that this is where I’d end up, I’d probably have laughed in your face.  No, for me, my journey to the pastorate was more circuitous and unintentional.  Ever since I was little, my intention was to be famous. (Insert a wry smile here.)  For most of my growing up, “famous” meant being a “famous” concert pianist.  I was classically trained and excelled in music; in fact when I went to college, I was accepted into the music conservatory of a well-known Christian liberal arts school.  But once I got there, I realized that at that point I didn’t like music for music’s sake, but rather because I was good at it — it was an idol.  And I also realized that my mind needed more than the “just music” of the conservatory.  So I switched into the English literature program, where I thrived.  And that’s when I discovered theology.

When I took my first class in theology, I discovered that I had a natural penchant for it, and my professor encouraged me to consider theology as a career path.  So a new idol developed:  I was going to become a famous woman evangelical theologian and save the world with my daring mind and academic prowess. (Yes, that was meant to be humorous.)

With that goal in mind, and with the encouragement of my professors, I went to seminary.  Except, at that time, I felt “seminary” and “pastors” in general were in a lower category than what I was seeking; so I would always tell people I was in “grad school” to make it clear that I was an academic who wanted my theology to be rooted in the church, not a pastor-in-training.  Though I began in an M.A. program, I soon switched to an MDiv program, not because I’d sensed a call to pastoral ministry, but because I loved languages and wanted to study Greek and Hebrew!

At the seminary I attended, MDiv students were required to take several different personal assessments as part of their training, including a version of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), which assigns 4 letters to describe how an individual functions in the world.  When I took the MBTI and discovered that I am an “F” (feeler) and not a “T” (thinker), I was absolutely devastated!  I retook the test over and over, trying not to see if (without outright lying) I could come up with a different result — but to no avail.  Not only that, but the descriptor for my four letter type was “The Counselor.”  To me, counselors were on a lower level even than pastors!  They were touchy-feely, the antithesis of how I saw myself: as a mind.  The rest of my time in seminary was fundamentally a time of God showing me who He had actually made me to be — an “F”, if you will — and helping me come to accept that person, apart from what I idolized.

Around the same time of my dramatic MBTI assessment, I was sitting in class one day, when out of the blue I distinctly heard the words, “You’re going to be a pastor.”  I practically fell out of my chair.  “You’re going to be a pastor”???  This was never an idea that had crossed my mind, never something I had wanted, and I wasn’t even sure if I thought girls could be pastors anyway!  So my response was, “God, if that’s you, you’re going to have to make me want it.”

And he did.  It took a situation that turned me inside out and upside down with pain to do it.  That situation caused me to feel so much pain that I ran to the very people I had despised:  counselors.  God used my experience in counseling to change my life.  In the crucible of pain I came face to face with my people-pleasing tendencies and the chronic depression that had bound me for years.  I felt like C.S. Lewis’ character Eustace when Aslan is ripping off the dragon skin from his body.  And I also discovered that I was pretty good at walking alongside other people who were in pain, that something in me came alive when listening and praying and giving counsel to others.

Throughout all of this, I was serving in a church community, as a music leader.  Jay Greener, Redeemer’s senior pastor who is now both my colleague and my friend, along with his wife Susan, saw me.  They saw potential in me that I didn’t see and worked to encourage me and draw me out.  I cannot overemphasize the importance of their leadership and of my church itself in raising me up as a pastor and a minister, and I am more grateful than I can ever, ever express.

My final semester in seminary, I was in the deepest depression of my life.  I had finally accepted my “F”-ness and switched my MDiv focus from academic research to pastoral care, albeit with a deep sense of failure (I continue to fight idolatry of the academic), and I knew deep in my soul that I was called to Redeemer — but I couldn’t live, much less pay school loans, on the weekly stipend I was receiving as a music leader.

But God worked a miracle.  Through the advocacy of Jay and others at Redeemer, the church created a FULL-TIME position for me.  In a small church.  For an evangelical woman right out of seminary.  At MY church, the congregation I loved, in which I had “grown up” in so many ways.  My very own personal miracle — thanks be to God!

I recently marked my five year anniversary of full-time pastoring at Redeemer.  In so many ways, this is not a life I chose — but it is so much better than what I would have chosen apart from following God.  This is not a life of fame, but rather of thousands of moments so holy and precious and hidden and profound and — dare I say — sacramental, that I cannot imagine a better way of living.  God called me to be a pastor… and then made me into one.  And I am grateful.