Woman In The Pulpit

Chapter 1

Grace Alexander placed her foot on the brake pedal, slowing the car so she could enjoy the colors of fall. Gold. Scarlet. Burnt Orange. Forest Green. Cocoa Bean. Bright Yellow. Burgundy. A kaleidoscope of vivid colors covered the trees. Every warm hue on the color spectrum was represented. Joy washed over her as the brilliant rays of the sun bathed each leaf and enriched its gloss. Trees lined the winding road majestically, each more breathtaking than the other. Every now and then a breeze rustled the trees and leaves of all colors floated to the ground. This was the part of the drive home that she loved best. When she reached this stretch of road she was almost there.

This time she was coming home to stay.

The silver Toyota Camry had served her well. A high school graduation present from her parents, it had gotten her through college and through three years of studying for her doctoral degree. She planned to keep it in good running condition for another few years.

The back seat was piled with boxes of books and other personal items. The front seat held her Bose music system and her collection of jazz CD’s. When life seemed to overwhelm her, jazz soothed her soul.

When money had been tight she had taken occasional singing gigs in the jazz clubs of Boston. Singing was second nature to her. She grew up singing at every event and every program in town and around the state. Everybody told her she would be a star someday.

But to Grace singing was personal. She did not have a desire to share her talent with the world. She only did it out of necessity. Thankfully those days were behind her. She was coming home to pursue her real dream. A dream she had held since high school.

It all seemed so easy. Too easy perhaps. First college. Next graduate school. Then dream fulfilled. No struggle involved.

She wasn’t complaining. Grace knew she was fortunate to get this job. She had been lucky all her life. Things just seemed to fall into place for her.

She hoped things would fall into place in her new job just as easily. What she was doing did not fit into men’s expectations for women. They were used to seeing a church being led by a man. Would they think she was the wrong vessel to lead them?

Grace shook her head to clear all the cobwebs away. Since when had she been concerned about what other people thought of her? She knew her calling. And she was going to carry it out.

She also knew everything was not going to go smoothly. She was prepared for opposition. She would not be well received in every situation. She knew that. But she hoped everyone would be civil and that they could all respect each other while going about their work.

Men would not be her only problem. There were women who felt the same way. They wanted, rather they needed, to be led by men. As much as they wanted equality on their jobs and in every other aspect of their lives, on Sunday mornings they wanted to see a man in the pulpit.

Grace brought her attention back to her beautiful surroundings. She drank in the lively, vibrant colors of the trees. Nothing was going to mar this sight for her. And negative thoughts would not dampen her enthusiasm for her new job.

She was going home.

Grace put a CD in her car’s music system and sang along with the jazz classic.

"What A Difference A Day Makes.

Twenty-Four Little Hours…

Brings The Sun And Flowers

When it Use To Be Rain."

She passed a sign:

Welcome To Piney Woods, Tennessee

Population 27,000

Grace put her foot to the pedal and accelerated.

*

Grace’s well-manicured hands, adorned with ripe peach fingernail polish, rested easily on the steering wheel. She parked her car in front of Hopewell Church, a large imposing stone structure. The sign on the lawn announced for all to see:

REV. DR. GRACE ALEXANDER

PASTOR

She took a moment to savor the feelings rushing through her body. One of the mainline high profile churches had called her to be their pastor. What great luck! A lot of movers and shakers of Piney Woods worshipped at Hopewell. She would be watched by everyone to see how she managed the church. She would have a highly visible platform on which to implement her programs. She had many new ideas she wanted to try out at Hopewell. If they worked she would write books and give seminars so she could help other ministers. In her wildest dreams she never imagined a plum assignment such as this.

She had thought it would take many years of working on the ministerial staffs of other churches before she assumed her first pastorate. She had been offered three such positions on the staffs of prominent churches on the East Coast. When her mother had told her that Hopewell’s pulpit was vacant, she could not resist the impulse to apply.

Rev. Odell Robinson, the former pastor of Hopewell, had been named senior pastor of a mega-church in Memphis. His preaching was legendary. He had made much of his three years in Piney Woods. Hopewell had been his base of operation as he developed a national following. His gift of preaching had taken him all across the country. Grace had even gone to support him when he came to Boston.

When Hopewell’s pulpit committee had called her for an interview, Grace had dropped everything to fly home. The interview had gone well. She knew everyone on the committee personally. Community leaders. Former teachers. Family doctor. They were used to new ideas and new programs. They wanted someone who would continue where Rev. Robinson had left off. Someone who would keep Hopewell on the national stage. They felt Grace was the person to do so.

When the call came announcing their selection, Grace was ecstatic. She had no reason to mull over any other offers. She knew what she wanted. She was going home.

Now she was here. She felt like pinching herself to make sure this was real.

Her first pastorate. Wonderful! Marvelous! Words could not describe her innermost feelings.

She was glad to be home.

CHAPTER 2

A luncheon meeting of the local Ministerial Alliance was in progress. Forty ministers gathered in the private dining room of Gladys’ Country Kitchen for their monthly meeting. Rev. Thomas Haliburton sat at the head table. A tall man in his seventies, with a commanding presence and almond skin, like polished oak furniture. His snow white hair crowned his head and gave him a distinguished air. He had been pastor of Morning Star Church for fifty years. Joining him at the head table were his two top lieutenants, fifty-year-old Rev. Cecil Jones, a stout man with long bushy sideburns, and thirty-four year old Rev. Clyde Williams, a man of average height and weight. The three of them represented the broad array of ministers serving the area.

Clearly, we can’t allow this, Rev. Haliburton said evenly.

Forks stopped clattering against plates. The ministers listened attentively to what Rev. Haliburton was saying. Heads nodded in agreement.

As secretary of the Alliance, Cecil wrote rapidly. It was his job to accurately take notes of each meeting and transcribe them. This usually meant that he did not participate in the discussions unless he was specifically asked a question. But today words tumbled from his mouth.

It’s too late now, he said.

Where is your faith, Cecil? Rev. Haliburton set his jaw in strong resolve. The Bible says that women should be silent. They should not teach or have authority over a man.

A man of strong convictions, Rev. Haliburton looked out over the men gathered in the room. Men who looked to him to lead them in the right way. They were all ages. Some he had known since they were babies. They all viewed him as their spiritual leader. He cleared his throat before continuing.

Besides, I have a plan.

Can you share your plan with us? asked Cecil. If ever we needed a miracle, it is now.

She won’t be here long, Cecil, said Rev. Haliburton. I can guarantee you that.

Clyde, trying to be the voice of reason, added his opinion. The church has voted. Her appointment cannot be undone.

Watch me, Rev. Haliburton said.

What’s the big deal anyway, asked Clyde.

Rev. Haliburton glared at him.

You have a lot to learn, said Cecil, whispering.

Rev. Haliburton resumed eating his meal. So did everyone else.

*

She is misguided. That’s what schooling up North will do. Rev. Haliburton pushed his dessert dish away and opened the meeting.

Isn’t she from here? asked Clyde.

Her father was pastor of Greenwood before you. He was well respected in these parts. He would roll over in his grave if he knew his little girl was up to this.

Sarah Alexander’s daughter?

Exactly. She should have stayed up North, said Cecil. Whoever heard of a woman pastor?

His words reverberated throughout the room. No one replied. There was no need. All agreed with him.

Finally, Rev. Haliburton spoke. It is ungodly. And it simply will not stand in Piney Woods!

But it’s a done deal, said Cecil.

Like I said, I have a plan. I left word over at Hopewell for her to come see me the minute she gets to town. Her father and I were friends. She will listen to me.

And turn back around and leave town? asked Clyde. That seems too easy.

"I’ll take her under my wing and gently guide her to see that being pastor of Hopewell is not for her.

She believes in the Bible, Rev. Haliburton continued. "We will have weekly discussions where I will point out the Biblical way and what the Bible says about women being over men. There’s no telling what she learned in that seminary. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even study the Bible.

But I need your support in this, gentlemen. Cecil, take a vote.

Cecil flipped the pages to the roll in his notebook. Rev. Ambrose?

Aye.

Rev. Anderson?

In deep thought, he does not answer.

Calling Rev. Anderson.

What about the ministries on television where a lot of the pastors have wives who are also preachers? Rev. Victor Anderson asked. The wives act as co-pastors.

What does that have to do with anything? asked Rev. Haliburton.

Doesn’t that show that churches are accepting women preachers?

So what? It is your responsibility to teach your people that the Bible says that it’s wrong! You can’t go around doing what everybody else does. That don’t make it right.

We can vote and agree that a woman shouldn’t be pastor of a church, Victor said, But we all know that we are going to lose some members to Hopewell. People like to flock to the new thing in town. When Clyde came to town we all lost members.

If we do a good job of teaching our members what the Bible says about women in the pulpit that won’t happen, said Rev. Haliburton. Besides, this is different. Clyde is a man. I don’t see any defections from our churches in this case. If anything, people from Hopewell will be coming to us.

Cecil cleared his throat. I repeat, Rev. Anderson?

Reluctantly, Victor said, Aye.

Rev. Baskins?

But this is not progressive thinking, Rev. Don Baskins said.

Progressive thinking? We are going by Bible doctrine, said Rev. Haliburton.

All I’m saying is we need to think about this situation. Grace might be the first but she is certainly not going to be the last woman in Piney Woods that is going to call herself a preacher.

What’s the matter, Don? asked Rev. Haliburton. Don’t you know your Bible?

Don was aware that all eyes were on him waiting for his response. This was not an issue he was willing to fight about. Grace was not coming to his church.

In the silence, Cecil spoke, Rev. Baskins?

Aye.

Cecil continued down the list calling names. Receiving no other objections he placed a check besides each name. He reached the end of the list. Rev. Williams?

Aye.

Rev. Haliburton, expecting no less, was pleased with the vote.

Gentlemen, we are all in agreement.

CHAPTER 3

Miss Viola McCracken, a spry lady in her eighties and a descendent of one of the founders of Hopewell, waited for Grace in the vestibule.

Welcome home, baby.

Miss Viola hugged her tightly. Then she placed her arm through Grace’s and led her into the church’s administrative offices.

This is Cynthia Briley. She is your assistant. She knows everything about everybody. What she don’t know, ask me.

Cynthia greeted her warmly. You have messages already. I put them on your desk.

*

Alone in her office, Grace twirled around and around in her desk chair. If only her father could see her now. She wished he were here to share this moment with her. She would have to rely on the lessons he had taught her through the years. When she needed to hear from her father, she became quiet and listened. Sure enough she could hear his voice, leading and guiding her, telling her the right way to do things.

She looked through her messages.

Call Rev. Haliburton immediately.

She tossed it into the trash. Then she picked it from the trash and stared at it. Should she call him? Did she want to get ensnared in his web? All kind of thoughts ran through her mind. Without making a decision, she went on to her other messages.

Dr. Ruth Levin, President of Pinehurst University, wants to schedule a lunch date.

Rev. Dr. Joyce Milligan of Women in Ministry, Memphis Chapter, requests a meeting.

Grace made notes of possible dates on each message and asked Cynthia to get back to them. Then she set about putting her office in order.

She emptied boxes of books into the built-in shelves. She placed photographs of her family on her desk. Her father’s picture held a prominent place. However, there was one photograph she did not place on her desk. She looked at the handsome image staring back at her. A warm smile spread across her face. Placing two fingers to her lips she touched the photograph fondly and turned it face down as she put it in the back of the top drawer of her desk. She spread loose papers over it.

She made a list of items she would need for her office. Appointment book. Calling cards.

She made plans to meet with her staff. Glancing at the clock on her desk, Grace realized she had been here several hours. Where had time gone?

*

Sixteen-year-old Josh Alexander was shooting hoops in his driveway. Every time he looked up he saw his mother at the kitchen window. She was looking for Grace. Sarah had been beside herself with joy ever since she found out Grace was coming home.

As for him, he hardly knew her. Grace had left home to go to college when he was nine years old so he had spent his formative years without her. It was always good to have her visit. Having her live here might not be so bad. His mother would be busy with Grace. That would keep her off his back.

It might even mean more freedom. Maybe Grace would let him use her car for dates. It would be better than his ride. Something was always wrong with it.

Suddenly Sarah ran into the yard. It could mean only one thing. Grace had arrived.

Josh retrieved his ball and moved to the side.

Grace pretended to run him down as she pulled into the driveway.

Sarah ran alongside the car.

I thought you would never get here.

As Grace stepped from the car Sarah hugged her tightly. Josh towered over Grace. He playfully mussed her hair.

I stopped by the church first.

Exasperated, Sarah said, I should have known. You are your father’s daughter.

People know I’m coming. I had messages already.

Of course they do. You have been the talk of the town.

The president of Pinehurst University wants to have lunch with me, gushed Grace with excitement. So does someone from Women in Ministry, a group in Memphis.

Oh, you are traveling in high cotton, baby girl. Your daddy would be so proud of you.

*

Grace’s luggage and boxes were spread all over her bedroom. Sarah helped her unpack. As she hung up jeans, slacks, and sweaters, Sarah said, You are going to have to get a new wardrobe. You are the pastor of a church. You can’t go around town in jeans and sweaters.

I’ll wear a robe on Sundays, said Grace, seeing nothing wrong with her choice of clothing.

"You are not in school anymore. You are the face of Hopewell. You will be meeting with people from all walks of life, from the highest to the lowest. You