is He worthy?

My sister and I went to a Hebrew Bible conference last month, hosted by Multnomah University in Portland, Oregon. It was the first time in too many years that I got to be part of the kind of Biblical scholarship that I love—the deep treasure-mining with a community of people who care as much about it as I do—and I have a suspicion that I will look back one day and notice that it was a pivot point in my walk with God, though it’s too soon to tell.

I had just made public “What if you’re wrong?” two days before that event. It was a difficult article for me to write, and even more difficult to publish. Even though I love the question, it’s sometimes uncomfortable to share my answers when I know how different they may be from the conclusions of everyone else. (Yes, I am a chronic people-pleaser. Working on it.) It’s taken me years to even warm up to thinking about the possibility that complementarian theology is wrong, let alone to put that possibility in writing. I’m still not sure I’m brave enough to just state it straight out. I’ve been studying and reexamining and praying for so long, asking God to give me discernment so that I don’t just change my view because I like the alternative better; I’ve been asking Him to give me a clear calling or sense of direction if this is a battle I’m supposed to fight. In other words, I’ve spent much of the last ten years thinking and praying, but very little of them in action.

But then Saturday came, the day of the conference, and the second plenary talk of the day was given by Carmen Imes. It was titled, “Zipporah: Enigmatic Heroine of the Exodus.” And somehow, in 30 minutes devoted to one of the strangest passages in the Old Testament, Carmen brought the clarity I had been waiting for.

We think of Moses as the hero of Exodus. There are endless studies and sermons out there on who Moses was and how he led the people of Israel out of Egypt and the way he acts as a sort of model of the Messiah. And they’re warranted.

But the sermon I’ve never heard is the one about all the different women who saved, delivered, rescued Moses over the course of his life—from birth onward—without ever being formally commissioned to do so. Shiphrah, Puah, Jochebed, Miriam, Pharaoh’s daughter, and yes, even Zipporah: every single one of them acted boldly, intervened fearlessly, to do what they knew was right without being asked. Each of these women acted in defiance of Pharaoh, in defiance of evil. Without them, the revered hero of the Exodus would not have survived to obey his mission.

And I think this is a good example of where recent church history regarding gender roles falls tragically short: too many Christian women are waiting for a special calling or divine permission to do what needs to be done, because we have been taught for so long that the real danger is stepping on men’s toes. But we weren’t created to sit quietly until someone gives us the go-ahead to speak. We were created to be deliverers, rescuers, defenders, examples of fearless defiance against authorities that stand in opposition to our God. This is what it means to be an ezer kenegdo. This is what it means to be the “suitable helper” of the human race. It’s written right into God’s design for us in Genesis 2:18.

I have been unnecessarily waiting for a word from the Lord that He already gave. He’s already told me why I was created. He’s already made clear what obedience to that vision looks like. And it doesn’t look like waiting quietly for the men in power to give me permission to obey Him.

Shiphrah and Puah did not wait for Pharaoh’s edict to change to start saving baby Hebrew boys. Jochebed did not wait for Pharaoh’s edict to change to bear her second son and hide him from the Egyptians. Miriam did not wait for Pharaoh’s daughter to ask her for help before she spoke up on behalf of her brother; Pharaoh’s daughter did not even ask her father’s permission to rescue one of the death-sentenced Hebrew babies! And Zipporah didn’t wait for Moses to lead their family into the covenant of circumcision when she knew she could, and must, set their relationship right before Yahweh herself.

Women of Christ, we are not “extras” on a stage that spotlights male characters only. We are not the backup cast, to be called upon only if the A-team fails. We are the ezers—the ones specifically created to make good what was not good, to defend the defenseless, to rescue those who are discarded by the powerful, to lead our families and churches courageously into right relationship with Yahweh.

It is not good for man to be alone. Our voices are desperately needed in our marriages and our male-headed churches.

It’s going to be an uphill climb, and it’s likely to come at a cost. As a chronic people-pleaser, I quake just thinking about the implications of everything I’ve written here—and I don’t even have to fear being executed by Pharaoh! But the question I keep asking is, “Is He worthy?”

If I lose friends, is He worthy?

If I am shamed or rebuked by my church, is He worthy?

If people I care about no longer respect me or like me, is He worthy?

If I have to find an entirely new support system for obeying the call He carved into my bones, is He worthy?

He is.