who’s really winning in the conversation about women in leadership

 

After my son’s baseball game last Saturday, I overheard two of his teammates discussing who would receive the game ball.

“You know he’s gonna get it,” one said, with enthusiasm and genuine joy. He was referring to my son, who had made the ball scream over the fence for his first-ever home run, and then struck out the side as pitcher in the next inning. He had never played so well in his life.

“But he’s already gotten the game ball before,” said the other.

“Yeah, but everybody’s gotten it once now. So he can totally get it again.”

“Oh, yeah.”

The notable story these boys were telling was this: they were excited about the game ball, but they knew it didn’t really mean anything too significant. Because everyone won it at least once.

It was clear that these boys don’t play the game of baseball for the joy of winning the game ball. Perhaps they play for the fun, for the joy of seeing the ball fly off their bat, for the friendships that happen as a result of all that teamwork, or for their baseball-obsessed grandparents. Whatever their motivations, they’ll still happily receive a free baseball and the applause of the crowd if someone’s handing it out.

These boys have life all figured out, and they’re only ten years old.

We adults are often still processing.

For example, much has been written lately about women writers and bloggers and the rising influence of women as leaders in the broader body of Christ.

I’d love to write about how much this conversation makes me ache for our local churches, for the thousands of women who are called to lead, yet have felt pressed out and down from influential platforms. In some cases they really were pressed out and down. In others, the dismissal was less overt, possibly even assumed, because a woman who has been shut out in the past saw the signs and decided not to knock on the same painful door of rejection. But church leaders can’t open doors if no one knocks. Many churches are navigating this situation with grace and courage, others are struggling. In every case, people are involved, and we are an inherently messy crew. Church is just hard, you guys.

I’d love to write about that, and maybe I will someday. But today, I am simply grateful that we’re all in the game. I’m in awe of the voices of God’s people, on the internet, in our city, in my church, and in my friendships. I am stunned at His great love for all of us: the women, the men, the privileged, and the minorities. We don’t all agree, and that certainly means some of us must have more holy wisdom in one way or another.

But we are all here.

We’re swinging our bats at balls pitched to us in the dark unknown of modern Christianity, as we seek to discern God’s will and build His Kingdom. There is such nobility and beauty in this game, and I honor our intentions.

Game balls are going to be won, and it may be fair or it may seem like someone won who didn’t earn it. It all depends on who happens to be handing out the precious trophy.

But leadership and service to Jesus are not about the prizes and the applause. Read Matthew 6 and glory in the thought that the best of us may never, ever get any recognition on earth for how we show up week after week and love the people God has called us to lead. It will always feel like we are losing at some point, because loving people means losing some of yourself so that they can know God better.

Inside each of us, though, is an infinite, expansive, eternal God. He is our greatest trophy and prize, and no one can stop His will in our lives, no matter how hard they try to silence us, push us out, go around us, or subvert our authority.

God will have His way in our lives and in His Kingdom. He is good. He is love. He is full of mercy. He is our righteousness and our peace and the Lord of all.

And He is so very proud of us.

On Saturday, my son didn’t end up winning that game ball. He carried away his home run ball, though, and his dad wrote the date on it and the name of the pitcher who threw it to him. Now it sits on a shelf in his room, a reminder of how all his hard work this year resulted in one amazing game.

That boy wasn’t bothered one bit by the lack of a game ball.

The game is inside him forever. It’s the real trophy, and it can’t be seen or held.

Whatever doors open or close in our lives, the door to an eternity with the God who calls us His greatest prize can never be shut by anyone here on earth. Game balls will mean nothing once we’re on the other side of that.

We play, we write, we speak, we lead for the love of Him alone. It’s enough.