The get-better gospel perpetuates abuse

Robert Morris, the stories of female clergy, and hope for the future

I’m not committed to writing about evangelical scandals because, as the devil said through a demon-possessed man in Gerasenes, “We are many.” At one point in my life, as a public clergy leader, I felt the burden of responsibility to speak when other pastors or spiritual leaders did problematic things.

I love the church and have enjoyed the weekly rhythm since I was a toddler. In my adult years, I served as a clergy leader for twenty years in various roles — pastor, prison chaplain, a public faith leader on policy issues like immigration, abortion, and racial justice. Only five of those twenty years were sporadically paid so please know, if you are a good shepherd leading from the fringes, I’m not talking about you. I’m writing about the institution of the American church who stays embarrassing us.

For every scandal in the news, there are thousands of faithful, often bi-vocational pastors who are unproblematic, leading people who love their neighbors and walk in the way of love. And there are millions of Christians around the world who love and adore their local faith communities. Still, if I may speak frankly, American churches are an eye roll. By and large, they are too quick to legislate morality on the general public, too slow to innovate, and too judgmental to feel welcoming. Meanwhile, the people they hope to reach are more open to faith, more curious about sobriety and groundedness, and more concerned with matters of justice.

We recently moved away from a church we loved in Los Angeles, and for the first time, at my big age of 43, I cannot find a local church I am interested in joining. I admit we were so spoiled by the worship, female leadership, and diversity of our church, which feels impossible to find in the southeast. So, I am learning firsthand how hard it is to find a faith community, to muster the courage to try and trust people not to be crazy, judgmental, theological and/or political snobs. And I am experiencing the struggle I heard about the whole time I pastored: working five days a week and then dragging my family out the door on Sunday morning to try and find a church (on my two-barely-days-off) that jives with our values where we can invest our energy and money.

And I admit that when the news hits week after week, it makes me want to give up the search.

I’m not alone in the consideration to pull support — from 1991 to 2011, women attending churches declined 11% and their service to churches down by 31%¹ and by 2020, 20% of women in churches left altogether². We are tired of having our empathy and labor exploited.

Almost three years into stepping out of my Christian bubble, I now view the institution of the American church as a place where big fish can flourish in a small pond. Famous christian speakers (most of whom are somebody’s pastor³) travel and preach the same message (or their current book as a perpetual sermon) for $5K-50K on a weekend. The top dollar speaker circuit is small and repetitive. There’s a token female at every co-ed conference and maybe a token non-white woman at the women’s conferences. Rarely (if ever, actually) are the speakers outside a particular economic class. The belief systems are homogenous and if anyone ever steps out of line, they will be severely punished. Hello to our beloved Jen Hatmaker, whose books were removed from shelves because evangelicals are thin-skinned and brackish, with a flair for the dramatic. (Shall I remind us of the Starbucks cups?) So obviously, the system of Christian publishing and publicity works the same way.⁴

The story I lived and hear from female clergy

Most men in power in the church would not be successful without their wives taking care of home/kids/meals and a small circle of females (who may or may not be executives) contributing ideas, offering council, and doing the damn work (down to the sermon drafts and bullet points for staff meetings). Even in churches where women are in power, the system is rigged against them.

Compared to the lead pastor, women on church staffs are usually paid far less in salary, if they are paid at all. (Especially since two for one’s are major in ministry. Hire one so you get the labor of the other partner. And yes, these are real conversations in hiring interviews and processes.) I’ve seen pastors paid close to half a million per year while their key people — who are the only reason the church is pastored — made anywhere between $36K and $70K in cities where that puts families below the poverty line. Women who pastor also preach, build curriculums, fill in for kid’s ministry workers, officiate funerals and weddings, make hospital visits, answer phone calls in the middle of the night, offer pre-marital counseling, run women’s ministries, advise pastoral executive teams, take up the invisible load of bearing witness to sexism and racism, create safe space for others, open their homes and lives to congregants, draft loads of content, and do a crap ton of admin work. All as one job.

Not to mention bearing the responsibilities of caring for their own households while freelancing other work to make end’s meet. There’s no time off. No rest. No breaks. No money to introduce necessary self-care practices like therapy for the first and second-hand trauma experienced in ministering to real people with real pain. But if women (and yes, many faithful, underpaid male associate and staff pastors) opted out of this bad system, how would the lead pastor get to travel so often away from their churches to receive large honorariums and six-figure book deals, and go on annual Sabbath for four to six weeks to “rest and recharge”?

What the hell are you tired from, fool? Preaching half-baked sermons? Traveling for things that are not your job? Please!

And this is to say nothing of the sexual abuse and harassment that runs rampant in and out of the church. I had an interesting conversation with a random stranger on a plane about Christians and gender. His view, staunch and regurgitated, was neither surprising nor compelling. Me being me, I asked him how many times his church preached about sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence, and extramarital affairs, since these are all gender issues and more rampant and dangerous than the one issue Christians like to outsize. He was taken aback and as I gently pressed, he visibly grew more tender as I shared my personal stories and stories of women I’ve served. If you want to double-down on one issue, you had better teach the scripture thoroughly, but what incentive do male leaders in the church have for tackling gender holistically? It is hard to preach against something you practice (or use to).

Churches in America teach a get-better gospel.

Be a better wife. Be a better mother (and here’s a MAN to tell you how to do it on MOTHER’S DAY). Be a better friend. Be a better presence. Be a better support. Be a better lover. Be a better worker. The explicit message is you’re not enough and the underbelly of that strategic messaging is you’re too much. Abuse runs rampant in the church on purpose and if women are too busy thinking they’re the problem, they’ll be shy to recognize and slow to name the systemic problem they’re steeped in.

The get-better gospel is built on control. When the Western church perfected the personalized relationship with Jesus, they were able to bypass the communal health of the church. Leaders get to serve as God’s man relishing in the successes (There is a famous pastor whose staff must STAND every time he enters the room — are you off your rocker? He needs a good kick in the ‘nads.) and others get to support their vision and agenda AND take responsibility when their best efforts fail. My husband has a wonderful phrase he uses to describe a chunk of his experience as a staff pastor, “I had all the responsibility and no authority.” He couldn’t change anything that mattered to the structure of the organization but carried the responsibility of the success of the organization. There is no way to win in that scenario.

This is exactly how an exploitative and abusive system operates. Innocent, hard-working people and even the leader’s enablers think they are the problem, so they work hard on themselves under the get-better gospel. The head of the institution has convinced them that if they can just do better, then the culture will get better. But in reality, they do not possess the influence, power, or control to transform the culture. Just outside that learned gospel of naval-gazing is funny money, covert or crystal clear narcissism, and a hierarchical structure that exploits and crushes vulnerable people that is flourishing with no examination or accountability.

Dolores Huerta talks about how one of the first things she had to do in meetings with farmworkers is convince them that they had power. We are bearing witness to women harnessing their power. I see women recognizing their collective power to make change by removing themselves from churches that are abusing, dishonoring, or exploiting people. I see followers of the way leading on matters of justice. I see pastors leaving big, famous churches to serve at smaller, healthier churches. To be frank, we are sick of the BS shenanigans.

Still, let’s not forget that despite the church getting so much wrong throughout history, christians and church leaders were the frontrunners of civil rights movement. Faith-rooted organizing⁵ is the bedrock of policy changes that ended slavery, child labor, voting discrimination, deadly tobacco marketing, hellish labor laws, police brutality, and so much more. The church is also growing globally even while it shrinks in America. The spirit of God is alive and well on the Earth.

Rethinking Church

It is clear that many churches — and Christian institutions — in the West are off kilter. More hierarchal than theological. More concerned with orthodoxy than orthopraxy. More invested in American politics than biblical neighborliness. More concerned with themselves than the world.

Jesus was not a rich white man flying first class talking ‘bout expanding his empire while he smirks “favor ain’t fair.” As this version of Christianity crumbles before our eyes, shrivels up and dies, I think about Jesus cursing the fig tree. It was full of leaves but no fruit. Then, he heads to the temple where he overturns the tables for the same reason he cursed that fig tree. A house of worship is where people go to find respite from the cruelty of this world, a place where people can worship together in peace and trust that their suffering is not in vain. That temple — just like many of our churches — created an image of healing while luring people into exploitation, stealing their money and time without leading them closer to God.

And this breaks one of the ten commandments, “You shall not take the Lord’s name in vain” which is not about adding g-o-d to d-a-m-n but is about using the things of God to further a human agenda. And Jesus does not look too kindly on those smoke and mirrors. I quoted Ghandi in my first book⁶, who said, “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

What is our hope?

Jesus himself said that in this world we would have trouble — he did not promise a pain free life but he did promise us his presence. He harshly judges only religious leaders (take note, please). And on the eve of his death, he sat with his disciples to remind them that they had him and each other. This is critical. We are not here to serve “dear leader”, we are here to love and serve each other. Unfortunately, becoming a Christian does not mean we graduate out of being human. Suffering is here to stay and no societal institution is better equipped to cultivate a healing community to meet the needs of vulnerable people than the church⁷.

God has entrusted us to steward our time on this Earth — our connections to others, our love for neighbors, our resources and gifts in service to others. That brings living hope to this world. We bring it to each other. Hope is like fireflies on a summer night — a light in the darkness, a reminder of morning soon coming.

For better or for worse, I am a Sunday morning ride or die; since I was a toddler, the church has been a regular rhythm of my week. Communal worship is essential to my sobriety and I delight in giving myself to a local faith community where love and hospitality is evident. At this point, I’m not sure I’ll find it again, but I thank God for my family and friends, my neighbors and classmates, my mentors and coworkers that are holding me steady.

The public witness of the church grieves me but the private witness of the church is beautiful, rich with humans who live love in their context and do the quiet work of faith with no fanfare. And for that reason, I’ma keep getting my raggedy behind out of bed, searching for Sunday⁸.

If your church is unproblematic, thank God and consider taking a moment to thank your pastoral team. Every time a scandal hits, they are hit with an unbearable amount of vitriol and desire to effectively encourage people in their faith. They work hard, all hours of the day and night and think constantly about how to help you and your community. They are underpaid and overworked but they serve out of a genuine love for people. Now is not the time to quit. Robert Morris ain’t your pastor. (Unless he is, girl, go on and get up out of there.) Try not to let the exhaustion of these unveilings boot you from a spiritual community that might not be perfect but is perfect for you.

And for those on the hunt, like me, you are not alone. Lean into the people who love you. Open your home and heart to neighbors. Volunteer in the city. Invest in organizations you care about. Keep doing the quiet work of faith. We gon’ make it, fam.

Love y’all,

Ashley

1. https://davidmurrow.com/quick-facts-on-christianitys-gender-gap/

2. https://news.gallup.com/poll/341963/church-membership-falls-below-majority-first-time.aspx

3. Kate Bowler wrote an entire book about the system that props this up!

4. although I am watching female acquisitions editors actively disrupt that narrative (with little progress on the PR front)

5. you must read Faith-Rooted Organizing: Mobilizing the Church in Service to the World

6. if you like this piece, you’ll love my books, Rise of the Truth Teller and Love Is the Resistance

7. the not racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, ableist church, obviously

8. a nod to the late Rachel Held Evans, who helped me hold onto my faith in a very dark time