The morning sun had climbed high into the sky a few weekends ago as my husband walked a few paces ahead of our youngest daughter and me, carrying a stringer heavy with our day’s catch. Watching him walk ahead of us, I was struck by a familiar, beautiful truth about our walk with Christ. In Matthew 4:19, Jesus calls out to His first disciples, “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people” (NIV). Fishing requires a great deal of patience, the right tools, and a willingness to go where the fish are, even when that means traipsing through high waters, climbing rock piles, and scaling debris. Not to mention navigating snakes that are more than likely lurking. You see, this is why you should always carry a snake-poker. Truly, the call of Jesus is a universal call to every single believer to cast a wide net of grace, love, and truth into a world desperate for hope.

This creekside memory feels especially poignant in light of recent events. Over the last few weeks, the Southern Baptist Convention’s annual meeting has generated a wave of articles, social media discussions, and heartfelt questions. Let me explain: the convention made national headlines by overwhelmingly passing the "Truth and Unity Amendment" with a 75% majority. This new constitutional amendment aims to tighten existing restrictions by explicitly barring cooperating churches from affirming, appointing, or endorsing women to serve in the office or function of a pastor, elder, or overseer—specifically including preaching to the assembled congregation. While the measure must pass a second consecutive vote next year to become permanent, it has already reignited a heavy, painful debate across our communities about who gets to hold the net and who is permitted to cast it. Christianity Today Article.

As I watched my husband walk ahead of us, I was reminded that the harvest is plentiful, the waters are vast, and the command to become fishers of men was never meant to sideline willing hands.

Please receive this not as a critique, but as a candid reflection on an issue of profound importance. This is a sincere expression of deep personal conviction and concern that carries significant weight for me. 

I grieve for the young girls and women sitting in church congregations today who are feeling the first stirrings of a divine call to preach the Gospel—a holy, reverent fear of a weight that feels far bigger than themselves. I grieve because we live in a world where so many people do not know Jesus. The harvest is incredibly plentiful, yet the laborers are few. How can we afford to discount half of the population—women with a genuine, divine calling on their lives—when the need for the message of Christ is so urgent?

My perspective does not come from abstract theory, but from my own lived experience. While I am honored to serve as one of your pastors today, my journey to the pulpit followed a non-traditional path. 

My call to ministry came later in life. At the time, I was a stay-at-home mom, entirely poured into homeschooling our four children in a small town in central Pennsylvania. My days were filled with math lessons, laundry, dinner prep, and the beautiful, chaotic rhythm of raising a family. I didn't seek out pastoral ministry, and I certainly didn't expect a career change.

However, God's plans were different. Everything changed while I was out of town attending a weekend women’s retreat. During a morning run, I stopped to pray at our retreat center's outdoor chapel, where a bench overlooked a pond. As the first light of dawn hit the pond's still waters, I experienced a life-altering encounter with the Holy Spirit. His presence became undeniable. 

In that sacred, quiet moment, I felt a profound connection to my late grandfather, a retired Ordained Elder in the United Methodist Church who had gone on to glory the year prior. I experienced a clear, unmistakable spiritual passing of the baton. Mirroring the biblical narrative, it was as though he approached me just as Elijah first did to Elisha, placing a prophetic cloak upon my shoulders.^[1] Like Elisha at the Jordan River, picking up his mentor’s fallen mantle to step into a new life,^[2] I was left holding a calling I did not yet fully understand. God was prompting me to receive that mantle and step forward into pastoral ministry. Though the Holy Spirit had been preparing me for years through subtle, mysterious nudging, that morning God blessed me with the clarity I had been praying for.

Naturally, I wrestled with doubts and profound reservations. I asked the questions so many women face: Why me? Why now? Why would God call me, of all people? As a wife, a mother of four, and a homeschooling parent, my immediate reaction was practical—surely my life was already too full for such a calling.

But God was ever persistent. He didn't answer my doubts with arguments; He answered them with a gentle, continuous nudge. He began to order my steps in the most beautiful way, intentionally placing strong Christian men and women in my life to affirm the call, challenge me, and urge me toward radical obedience.

Foremost among these encouragers is my husband, who has been my steadfast partner and intercessor from the very beginning, walking beside me with unwavering faith. This ministry has also been a shared journey for our four children. They have walked with me through every chapter—navigating both seasons of celebration and seasons of challenge—offering unconditional grace, profound resilience and constant encouragement at every turn. 

Alongside my family, I have been deeply blessed by my male colleagues—both past and present. They have been monumental and instrumental encouragers in my life. These brothers in Christ have willingly stood in the gap, using their own voices to advocate for women in ministry and defend our God-given, Holy Spirit-ordered call to ministry. Their partnership has been a tangible reminder that when God calls a worker into His harvest, the body of Christ is meant to stand together.

Over the years, I have navigated the distinct obstacles that come with being a woman in pastoral ministry. I have experienced moments of isolation, faced misunderstandings, and met doors that seemed firmly shut, constantly navigating the limitations of an invisible glass ceiling. But those obstacles and that glass ceiling cannot erase the morning at that outdoor chapel, nor can they diminish the weight of the mantle passed down to me. With each passing year, my confidence in the Holy Spirit only grows deeper. I have a fierce, quiet certainty that the One who authored my calling is fully capable of shattering any ceiling and sustaining me through it all.

To the girls and women sitting in sanctuaries and chapels today, whether you are beginning to sense a faint nudge from the Holy Spirit or walking through a season of heavy testing: press on. Stand firm in the unique call God has placed on your life. Do not let institutional boundaries, invisible ceilings, or the doubts of others quiet the voice of the Creator inside you.

The institutional church will always grapple with its rules, its titles, and its boundaries. I respect the desire for clarity and consistency, even when that clarity creates lines that exclude. But as I look out at a world aching for hope, my prayer is that we would stop looking at gender and start looking at the harvest.

Ultimately, our highest allegiance belongs to the King of Kings. Men and women alike, I say to you, if God has placed a calling on your life, your primary responsibility is to be completely and radically obedient to Him, remembering the conviction of Acts 5:29 that "we must obey God rather than human beings." When the Holy Spirit prompts your heart, step out in faith, knowing that He qualifies those He calls. I declare it to be true! 

If I could make one plea to the global church, it would be this: look intentionally for the women in your midst who carry these divine embers. Stand with them, encourage them, and champion their voices at every turn. In doing so, we follow a rich scriptural precedent. We align with God’s design when He appointed Deborah as a prophet and judge to lead Israel,^[3] when Jesus commissioned Mary Magdalene as the very first proclaimer of the resurrection,^[4] and when Priscilla co-pastored house churches and shepherded early Christian leaders.^[5] We mirror the apostle Paul, who explicitly commended Phoebe, a deacon of the church, instructing the believers to "receive her in the Lord in a way worthy of his people and give her any help she may need from you".^[6] Let us build a church where we eagerly hold open the doors that God has unlocked. When God calls a woman to preach, her greatest act of worship is simply to obey, and our greatest honor as the body of Christ is to stand beside her. 

I am profoundly grateful to our church family for standing with me as your pastor. In a world where doors are often closed to women in ministry, you did not just open yours—you stand beside me, champion my calling, and allow us to grow together. Serving you is an honor, and your steadfast support means more to me than words can express. 

Let us continue to fan into flame the gifts of God within us, unleashing the raw power of the Holy Spirit to boldly advance His Kingdom. 

Soli Deo Gloria (Glory to God alone),
Pastor Jen