It Has Always Been Women
Faithful resistance in a time of moral crisis
Dear friends,
It has been a long time since I last wrote in this space, and I deeply regret that. The reasons for my absence deserve a post of their own—one I hope to share soon.
One exciting development is that I’ve been pursuing a Master of Arts in Peace and Justice at St. Stephen’s University. It’s a small graduate school of theology, peace, and reconciliation in New Brunswick, Canada, and it has been so life-giving. I’m actually heading to New Brunswick next week to take a few courses in person. So I have written a lot of words in the past year and a half—they’ve just landed in the hands of my professors instead of here. I hope to return to this space more frequently soon.
I am currently taking a course called Truth to Power: Approaches and Skills to Peace Activism. We were given a creative assignment to read Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail—and then, in the spirit of King, write our own letter as it relates to a contemporary issue.
I struggled with this assignment at first, largely because many of us have spoken “truth to power,” only to have it fall on deaf ears. Even Dr. King’s letter didn’t elicit the change he was seeking from the eight white clergyman he addressed. I mean, those in power want to cling to power, right? Those who benefit from the status quo aren’t always so keen to disrupt it. Dr. King put it plainly: "Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed." So instead, I took a slightly different approach. I wrote to a group that has been conditioned to remain silent, urging them to rise up and be bold in the face of injustice.
I’m sharing it here, because I think this message may resonate with many of you. Thanks for reading!
My Dear Fellow Sisters in Christ,
I write to you with a profound sense of urgency, in the midst of a national, ethical, and moral crisis—marked by creeping authoritarianism and the steady dismantling of our rights and those of our neighbors. We stand at a pivotal moment in history—a moment where we must choose which path to take. Today, I appeal not only to your intellect, but to your conscience— a conscience that sadly, too many others have abandoned.
Throughout America’s history, we have stood on the margins of power, yet it has always been women at the forefront of progress—leading movements, demanding justice, and speaking truth, even as they tried to silence us. Our commitment to equality, peace, and human flourishing has shaped the moral arc of this nation. This is our legacy, and now is the time to honor it—not just with words, but with bold, faithful action. As Dr. King warned, “We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.” My prayer is that we would not be counted among the silent.
The Church has conditioned us to stay small and quiet: “good girls” obey, “good wives” submit, and “good Christian women” are hospitable—certainly not opinionated, loud, or disruptive. They have urged us to soften our convictions and temper our pursuit of justice in the name of ‘unity’ and ‘peace.’ We have been taught to value ‘niceness’ over righteous resistance—lest we threaten those who hold and maintain power. Our role, we’re told, is to be sweet, submissive, and silent. But silence is complicity, and complicity harms us all. As Dr. King said, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality; whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
Do we truly believe that every life was created in the divine image of God? Then we cannot remain silent on issues that impact our neighbors—those who deserve dignity, respect, the right to self-determination, and the kind of care and compassion that leads to human flourishing. As we sit in relative comfort, our silence enables oppression: racism, xenophobia, LGBTQ+ exclusion, Christian Nationalism, climate destruction, misogyny, and church sexual abuse. We’ve been taught to keep quiet in the name of a false peace, but silence is no peace at all.
Even when our spirits cry out for justice, we are warned not to challenge those ‘placed’ in authority—but that obedience comes at a cost. When we silence ourselves, we deny the fullness of who God created us to be. We limit the voice and the gifts He gave us—not just for our own sake, but for the sake of others, too. And as injustice rages—at the border, in prisons, in voting booths, and from within the Oval Office—our silence still speaks.
Jesus did not remain silent on issues of injustice. Much of His ministry directly challenged unjust systems, religious hypocrisy, and social exclusion. Let us not forget that he stands with the oppressed and that the gospel message is one of liberation. In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus redefined what it means to be blessed—this is the upside-down Kingdom of God:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, not the arrogant and self-serving.
Blessed are those who mourn, not those who have hardened their hearts to suffering.
Blessed are the meek, not those who seek power and control.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, not those who are content to maintain the status quo.
Blessed are the merciful, not those who are vengeful.
Blessed are the pure in heart, not those who are corrupt in spirit.
Blessed are the peacemakers, not conflict-avoidant peacekeepers.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for following the Way of Jesus will cost us.
The Beatitudes are not a call to silence—they are a radical invitation to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God in the face of injustice. They are a reminder that God's blessing does not rest on comfort or control, but on courage, compassion, and a relentless pursuit of righteousness. To do otherwise would betray the very gospel that we hold dear.
I lament with Dr. King, who said, “I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership…all too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of the stained-glass windows.” Sisters, this is our time. Perhaps, like Queen Esther, we were made for such a time as this. Women of the Church, rise. Lift your voices:
Lift them for the immigrants, who are brave enough to leave their homes in search of a better life—just as most of our ancestors once did.
Lift them for the mothers and fathers with empty arms, who weep for children lost to senseless, preventable gun violence.
Lift them for the LBGTQ+ youth in your pews, who wonder if it’s safe to be their most authentic selves.
Lift them for those on death row, for inhumane prison conditions, and for those who have been disappeared by ICE.
Lift them for healthcare, for education, and for disability rights.
Lift them for women, whose bodily autonomy and voting rights are under attack.
Lift them for BIPOC communities, who endure systemic racism, violence, and marginalization and whose fight for justice is ongoing.
Lift them for democracy, in a world that is rapidly stripping away human rights.
I write not to shame anyone, nor to appear self-righteous—for I, too, have been guilty. I too have felt helpless, despondent, and willfully uniformed in the name of self-preservation. But the relentless stream of human rights atrocities has sounded the alarm—and this is a five-alarm fire. We must respond to the urgent issues of our time.
Do not be overwhelmed—though we cannot do everything, we can each do something. Like the courageous women who came before us, the power of our collective voices and actions can spark monumental change for the greater good. And God has given us a great cloud of witnesses who have served as examples of strength and boldness. Let us not believe the lie that our voices do not matter. Let us not believe the lies that lull us into complacency. Instead, we can:
Educate ourselves and others. Listen to marginalized voices. Vary our news sources and ensure they are reliable. Start a book club focused on justice issues.
Stand with the oppressed. Volunteer with a refugee resettlement group. Buy from Black-owned businesses. Challenge our own biases and those within our circles of influence.
Speak up. Use our social media platforms to highlight injustice. Advocate for LGBTQ+ inclusion in our churches. Join a movement for a cause we care about. Attend a march.
Vote. Withdraw support from any leader who upholds unjust and oppressive systems. Attend local town halls and Board of Education meetings. Run for local office.
These actions may seem small, but together they weave a glorious tapestry of faithful resistance. As women of faith, let us pursue justice with hope—trusting that God moves through ordinary people like you and me. In closing, I leave you with a prayer of encouragement by author and theologian Kat Armas—
God of liberation, we ask for the wisdom of our foremothers:
the persistence of Rizpah,
the boldness of the Canaanite mamá,
the courage of Deborah,
the shrewdness of Tamar,
the compassionate heart of Tabitha.
We ask that the strength of our ancestors guide us, so that we, too, may be
Healers and co-creators and life-giving agents of your kin-dom.
May these words dwell in our hearts and spirits as we co-labor with God to bring His Kingdom to earth, as it is in heaven. Amen.
Peace and goodness to you, and strength for the cause—
xo, Jana
Congratulations on pursuing your master’s degree. Thanks for sharing . There are many examples of strong women in the Bible. Their stories give me strength. It is important to keep speaking out and using our voices to tell the stories of now as you are doing. Thanks for using your voice. Together we can make a difference even if is a small difference.
I love your take on this assignment! And congratulations on pursuing a master's degree. Beautifully and movingly written!