I was groomed to be a misogynist. Through private school, summer camps, college, and four church services per week for 15 years, I sat under more than 4,000 sermons and Bible lessons from leaders of the Independent Baptist Fundamentalist movement. Men who looked up to men like John MacArthur taught me things like—I kid you not—“The only women who get pregnant from rape liked it.”
So, you’d think I would be the last person at Beth Moore’s weekly Bible study.
Every Tuesday night on the west side of Houston, Beth or one of her protégés teaches hundreds of women from multiple churches and (by live streaming) Native American communities. I had arrived in Houston the Monday morning prior for a writer’s conference. Dudes comprised maybe 5% of the bloggers and authors in the room. So, I didn’t think anything of being the only guy at my table. There seemed to be a lot of buzz about the last session of the day, a seminar and then Q&A with Beth. I had never heard Beth teach or read any of her books. I knew ladies in my church loved her video series and study guides, but I didn’t know enough about her to hold an opinion—let alone to be excited.
As Sovereignty planned it, the chairs around my table filled with several members of Beth’s writing, teaching, and social media team. Our table soon filled with laughter and stories even more electric than the room at large. Somewhere in there, Natalie and Selena invited me to Beth’s Tuesday night study.
“Are you sure?” I protested.
“Yes!” Natalie insisted.
I arrived early the next night and sat in the parking lot for a while before working up the courage to join the throng of Texan pedestrians. At the front door, Natalie beamed and asked me to stay behind the simulcast cameras during the service. So, I camped out behind the tech booth, as women of multiple ethnicities filed in around me. The next two hours—two hours—offered moments of beauty and also of anxiety about whether we’d get to the end of the study guide in my sweaty hands.
Beth seemed to have researched this study more than I’ve researched my 50,000-word book. She taught exegetically but pulled in more supporting Scripture references (from memory) than most of the sermons I’ve heard in my life. At the same time, she exuded more humility than all of the fundamentalist pastors of my youth had amassed—combined. In a city whose newspaper had just documented how 700 sex abuse victims had been silenced in their Baptist churches, rows and rows of women in front of me demonstrated a freedom to make their voices heard.
So, when I heard this weekend that MacArthur had told a frothing crowd of white men that Beth should “go home,” that she was a narcissist, and that the #metoo movement was a contrived nuisance of the church, I heard one of the largest record scratches of my life. Arrogance and ignorance dripped onto MacArthur’s microphone—and not just when he compared Beth to a TV jewelry salesperson. It was the same misogyny I had heard from the insecure, myopic leaders of my youth. As his sycophant disciples cheered him on with hearty laughter, MacArthur sounded like two of my former pastors and dozens of chapel speakers.
Because that’s what the Jesus who made a woman his first evangelist would do, right?
The Jesus I follow—the Jesus Beth preaches—defended women against the religious establishment of his day. He gave them honor and dignity their fundamentalist culture refused. Jesus made sure the woman at the well felt worthy of new life. He stood in front of a vulnerable woman, pulled out of bed with a naked male synagogue attendee. Jesus let a prostitute wash his feet with her tears. He cried with Mary & Martha. He commended the bleeding woman for her faith instead of recoiling at her uncleanness. He leveraged his strength and reputation to protect women, not attack them.
It is not women but men like MacArthur who created the #churchtoo movement. Men who see women as bodies to use instead of souls to cherish fill American pulpits. Of course they don’t want women to have a voice. Some of those sopranos and altos might reveal that their pastors are whitewashed graves, epic hypocrites, and even sexual predators. They might even out-preach black-suited egos—backwards and in heels.
In the Old Testament, God assigned Deborah to lead the nation of Israel as both a prophet and a judge. God appointed her as both the spiritual and political head of his theocracy. She called a man named Barak to lead a military attack for which God had promised her a victory. Barak refused to go unless Deborah joined him. So, she joined Barak but prophesied that a woman would get credit for the victory. At the end of the battle, a woman named Jael assassinated the opposing general (in unique and impressive fashion), fulfilling Deborah’s heaven-blessed proclamation. Jael had that opportunity because Barak’s fears and insecurities made room for her.
If men like MacArthur don’t want to see women get the credit and status men chase for the Lord’s work, maybe they should be more diligent not to create the vacuum that invites intervention. No matter where you or your church stands on the matter of women proclaiming God’s Word in front of God’s people, we can all agree that any man on stage should use that platform to protect women instead of attack them. No matter what you think of Beth, her ministry, or her teaching style, we can all agree that God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble.
If I were MacArthur today, I’d be begging God for a reprieve from that pending sentence of divine resistance.
