A New Testament View of Women

A New

Testament

View

of Women

Shirley Stephens

To my husband, Bill,

my partner in pilgrimage

© Copyright 1980 by Broadman Press

© Copyright 1985 by Shirley Stephens

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0-8054-7216-9

Library of Congress Card Catalog Number: 98-66962

Printed in the United States of America

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the King James Version of the Bible. Scripture quotations marked NASB are from the New American Standard Bible © The Lockman Foundation, 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977. Used by permission. Scripture quotations marked NEB are from The New English Bible © The Delegates of the Oxford University Press and the Syndics of the Cambridge University Press 1961, 1970. Reprinted by permission.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Printed in the United States of America

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Contents

A Personal Journey

PartI: Jesus’ Model Illustrated

One: Women in the Kingdom

Two: Women in Jesus’

Earthly Ministry

PartII: Jesus’ Model Applied

Three: A Point of Reference

Four: Women in the New

Testament Home

Five: Women in the New

Testament Church

Six: Women’s Involvement and

Cultural Factors

Seven: Jesus’ Model and the

Church Today

Selected Bibliography

Scripture Index

Subject Index

Other Books by

Shirley Stephens

A Personal Journey

In 1961 people didn't talk about women's rights, at least not in any organized way. The movement had not begun. But, in that year, I made a decision that has greatly influenced my concept of a woman’s role in church and society. The process for making the decision didn’t begin with me, though. The Lord tapped me on the shoulder, so to speak, and got it all started. While I was doing women’s work, he spoke to me gently about entering a man’s world. At that time, my husband, Bill, was a full - time seminary student and a full - time employee at a major department store. My time was occupied with keeping house and caring for Laura, almost three; Paula, one and one - half; and Greg, five months.

It was a typically hot August day in Fort Worth, Texas. Just before lunch, I was going about my almost daily task of washing clothes. To do my job, I had a hand - me - down automatic washing machine (which I was thankful for) and no dryer. So, with a load of clothes across my arm, I went to the backyard to hang them on the line. Usually, my two little girls followed closely behind, playing and asking questions. But this time they were busy creating a city out of Tinker Toys. Greg was in his crib looking on.

I was really excited and happy that day. For the first time in three years we were going back to my home. Bill and I had just decided for sure that we could make the trip to Arizona. We had not seen most of my family since moving to Fort Worth three years before. Only my sister and brother - in - law had seen our children. Every year we had hoped to make the trip, but something always happened. Usually a big car repair bill was the problem. But this year, Old Bessie had done pretty well.

Won’t it be great to see everyone, I thought as I hung up one diaper after another. Daddy would love the kids, I knew; and they would be crazy about him. And they would like the old, roomy house I grew up in.

My thoughts flew from place to place, creating pictures in my mind of smiling people and familiar sights. I pictured Calvary Baptist Church where I made my decision for Christ. Seeing all those people would be great. I thought about Mrs. Butler, the leader of our young women’s group at the church. It had been a real sacrifice for her to be our sponsor, because she was in such poor health. She had prayed for me in my own home without calling my name. But I knew she meant me when she prayed for those who need to make a decision for Christ. That was in 1954.

Next, my best friend, Elizabeth, came to mind. She had been just the right kind of friend as I worked through my decision, not pressuring me in any way. I thought about my Sunday School teacher and the lesson she taught on the morning I accepted Christ. That morning she told about the spiritual journey of her brother. He was a Christian, but he expected God to give him another experience like the one he had at conversion before he could really get involved in working for Christ.

My experience wasn’t exactly the same as my Sunday School teacher’s brother; still the illustration spoke to me. Seven years earlier, during a revival, the Holy Spirit had convinced me that Jesus was the Savior and that I should turn my life over to him. But, because I was afraid certain friends would make fun of me, I held back. I had never been able to forget that experience. And, as my Sunday School teacher told about her brother, I realized that I had been waiting for the Lord to deal with me in exactly the same way again. But it would never be the same. The Lord was simply waiting for me to say yes to the first invitation.

When I left the Sunday School class to go into the sanctuary I was so choked up I could hardly talk to anyone. During the invitation time in church that morning, I made the decision I had been contemplating for seven years. The relief and peace I felt are beyond description.

Suddenly, as I stood at the clothesline musing about the past, God’s caring love overwhelmed me. He had used all those people to help me! Why? I asked silently. How could he be so interested in me, one person among such a vast multitude? Tears began to roll down my cheeks.

Thank you, God, I blurted out, sobbing. Thank you for caring so much. Thank you for all those people who cared.

As I sobbed the words, God drew so near, so real. It seemed that I could reach out and touch him — if I dared. For a few minutes I stood there crying, awestruck by the experience.

I went back into the house to get some more clothes. Standing at the washing machine, the experience ended as quickly as it had begun. Suddenly, I felt completely cold to the experience, repelled by all the emotion but not knowing why I felt that way. It was as if I had shut the door on God when I went inside.

Back outside, the tears started flowing again without any conscious thought going through my mind. God was confronting me again. The feeling was strange, so different from anything I had ever experienced before.

As I prepared lunch for the children, I kept thinking about the experience. What could it mean? I asked myself. The Lord must have something to say to me. But what? I was a little afraid to ask.

After the children were in bed for their afternoon nap, I lay down to rest, too. As I lay in bed, I began to pray. God, what are you trying to say to me? I asked. Please help me understand what it is. There was no answer. I fell asleep.

When I awoke, the answer was on my mind so clearly: I want you to go to the seminary. It was God’s word for me. The answer couldn’t have been clearer if he had spoken out loud.

I had thought about going to the seminary but had not pursued the idea very seriously for a number of reasons. First, the children were so young. Second, I had taken so many education courses in college I didn’t feel any immediate need for more. The religious education courses, to a large extent, seemed to repeat a lot of what I had already studied. But I wasn’t rebellious. If the Lord had impressed me with that possibility, I would have considered going that route. So why, I wondered, did God speak to me in such a dramatic way? Later, during the rough times financially and faced with the almost total absence of understanding and encouragement from family and friends, I would look, time and again, to that experience for the strength I needed.

I was so stunned by it all I couldn’t bring myself to tell Bill when he came home that day. I needed time to think about what had happened. I had to be sure what it all meant. For three days I thought about the experience constantly. I prayed and prayed. I looked through the seminary catalog. The theology courses really sounded interesting. Finally, I came to the conclusion that I should enter the school of theology. But that scared me to death. It wasn’t the route women normally followed, especially married women. I really didn’t know what Bill would say.

In the evening after the children were in bed, I shared the experience with Bill. I really think I should take theology, I told him. The religious education route is just not for me.

He looked at me very seriously for a moment or two. Well, maybe that’s just what the Lord wants you to do, he said softly.

But what will people think about a woman in the school of theology? I protested. They’ll think I want to be a preacher.

Oh, they won’t think that, he assured me. Anyway, who cares what they think? Don’t worry about it.

But how will we make it financially? I continued, trying to find an excuse to forget about the whole matter.

We’ll manage. If this is something the Lord wants you to do, we’ll make it.

I know that, I agreed. "But, it’s hard to feel it."

Bill took my application to the registrar. He was going that way, anyway, and deep down I wasn’t ready to confront the world with my decision yet.

Sure enough, the registrar was puzzled. Are you sure she wants to enter the school of theology? she questioned. The wives usually enter the religious education school.

Yes, I’m sure that’s what she wants to do, Bill said confidently.

But that’s not what our wives do, Mr. Stephens, she insisted. Our wives take education or music.

Nothing in the catalog keeps women out of the school of theology, he insisted back.

Finally, she agreed, but unhappily.

After taking all the entrance tests, I enrolled as a full - fledged member of the school of theology. A little later I received a letter from the dean of that school complimenting me on the high score I had made on one of the entrance tests. It was addressed to Mr. William H. Stephens.

I enrolled in only one night class the first semester. Since it was a class that both religious education and theology students took on a regular basis, no one noticed what school I was in. But the next semester was a different matter. I enrolled in Greek. I can still see those bemused looks as I entered the room. Some checked to make sure I was in the right place. And along the way a number asked, How are you going to use Greek? or What in the world are you going to do with Greek?

I don’t know, I usually answered, I just feel this is something I should do. Few were convinced.

True, I didn’t know for sure why I should go in the direction I was going, but I was confident God would lead me to use the training in some way.

While I did receive some encouragement from professors, friends and relatives were no help. Over and over they questioned the wisdom of my decision. Since our children were so young, they could understand why I didn’t get a job teaching and ease the load on Bill. But, when I enrolled in the seminary, their attitude changed. They started hinting and teasing me about getting a job so Bill could breeze through. Or they would kid Bill about putting his wife to work, so he wouldn’t have to work so hard. And no one, absolutely no one, wanted to know how I had come to the decision. They had already made up their minds. Not until my last year in the seminary, when it looked certain that I would finish, did anyone really take my endeavor seriously and suggest that maybe there was a purpose to it all.

At my graduation I was the only woman theology graduate. As President Naylor shook my hand when I received my diploma, he said, God bless you in the midst of all these men. I appreciated those kind words.

Although I have been writing and editing Bible - study materials for more than thirty years, people still are surprised when I tell them that I have a Master of Divinity degree. They hint that I must not have taken the same courses as others with the same degree. Well I did, except for a pastoral ministries course that dealt strictly with a pastor’s responsibilities and a preaching course, for which I substituted a speech course in the religious education school.

Two things have always bugged me about my experience. First, why was it so difficult to be accepted in what was considered a man’s territory when God had clearly pointed me in that direction? Second, why was that area almost off limits to me? I think the answer to both those concerns lies in that fact that New Testament teachings about women have not been applied throughout the history of the church. Scripture has been mishandled in relation to the subject of a woman’s role, not always intentionally, but mishandled nonetheless.

A very basic factor in the mishandling of Scripture is the fact that Jesus’ teachings about women have not occupied the primary place they should in determining the role of women in church and society. His teachings, in large measure, have been overlooked as the foundational base for a New Testament view of women. This has been the gravest omission of all. Other Scriptures have been emphasized, often to the exclusion of the model Jesus provided through his words and actions.

New Testament passages related to women, specifically those of the Apostle Paul, have been handled in two ways. The first view can be summarized with the statement, I believe the man is the head of the family or I believe women should submit themselves to their husbands (or even all men). Certain Scriptures are emphasized to the exclusion of others. It is a view of Scripture interpretation that completely ignores the cultural setting in which the