I was born and raised in the Churches of Christ, an American Christian tradition that grew out of what is sometimes called the Stone-Campbell Movement or Restoration Movement. I remain a member of that tradition today. I suspect many of you reading this are also members of this tradition. There are so many things I cherish about Churches of Christ. I admire the ubiquitous love and reverence for Scripture. I value the tradition’s strong commitment to congregational autonomy. I love the convention of acapella singing; apart from being aesthetically beautiful, I appreciate that it democratizes the musical worship of the church and invites hymnody that is often particularly theologically substantive. I respect the priority our churches assign to the Lord’s Supper by communing every first day of the week; and I continue to resonate with our high, sacramental view of believer’s baptism. Churches of Christ taught me the gospel; they taught me to love God, love others, and honor Scripture. These communities have been integral to my spiritual and theological formation; and I hope to pour back into them for as long as the Lord wills.
But for all the things I’ve held on to and continue to cherish from my heritage, there are things I’ve shed away, as well. This kind of theological refinement is natural for disciples of Christ. The Restoration Movement was itself a ‘shedding away’ of various teachings and traditions perceived by the pioneers of the movement to be harmful and unbiblical. For those who serve a God of truth, scrutiny is not a threat; and for those who diligently study His word, growth in understanding is to be expected. My theological journey may look different than yours; but every disciple has a journey. Today, I want to briefly share with you all a significant chapter of my own journey.
The church I was raised in was complementarian—as most Churches of Christ are. For those unfamiliar with the terminology, complementarianism teaches that while men and women are ontologically equal in the eyes of God, they play distinct roles in the church and in the home; the role of men is to lead, while the role of women is to submit to male leadership. This is in no way unique to Churches of Christ; throughout history, churches of all stripes have limited the role of women in leadership and the assembly. Nevertheless, the brand of complementarianism my church practiced was particularly rigid and restrictive. Women were barred from holding any office in the church—whether preacher, deacon, and elder; but even more, they were restricted from all audible and visible participation in the worship assembly, save for congregational singing or a confession of faith before baptism. That is to say, they were not permitted to audibly pray or read Scripture to the congregation, nor were they to lead singing/musical worship. They were prohibited from even passing communion trays silently. When pressed on this prohibition, the typical response was that allowing women to pass communion trays was a ‘slippery slope’ toward women’s audible participation in the assembly. Put differently, the visibility of women in the assembly was a slippery slope toward the audibility of women in the assembly.
These strictures on women were typically grounded in two passages of Scripture: 1 Corinthians 14:34–35 and 1 Timothy 2:12. In each of these passages, Paul silences women in an ecclesial context. In elementary school, I asked a trusted leader in our church why we didn’t allow women to participate in the worship assembly, and these were the two verses he cited to me. I committed them to memory, so that I could provide a defense to my friends when they asked me the same question. Over the next 10–15 years, I never again questioned this teaching. I never investigated the cultural and/or literary contexts of the two passages. I never attempted to discern the theological rationale undergirding Paul’s prohibitions. I was happy to accept what I perceived to be the ‘plain meaning’ of the texts; and I was never challenged on my interpretation…until I was.
I was 21 years old the first time I heard a woman speak in a church service. I was visiting a church with my then girlfriend (now wife) Suzanne; and just before the sermon started, a woman made her way to the stage to pray and read a passage of Scripture. Suzanne and I looked at each other with wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and alarm bells ringing in our heads. Wasn’t this church familiar with 1 Corinthians 14 and 1 Timothy 2? Didn’t they realize that women weren’t permitted to do this? It was legitimately disorienting to me at the time. After the service ended, I scoured Google and YouTube for resources that supported the ‘hard complementarian’ position I was raised with. I didn’t even entertain the thought that my position could be wrong; I knew it was right, so I hurried to find resources on the subject that I could send over to the heretics at this church.
After some preparation, I finally reached out to one of the church’s ministers. Eager to teach him some Pauline theology, I was astonished to learn that he was already aware of 1 Corinthians 14:34–35 and 1 Timothy 2:12; and in fact, he knew the texts better than I did! After only 30 minutes of speaking to him, my understanding of the role of women in the church began to crumble before my eyes.
Why had I never considered that only three chapters before Paul prohibited female speech in 1 Corinthians 14, he permitted women to pray and prophesy audibly in the assembly (11:5)—or that only three verses before the prohibition, he expressed his desire for everyone in the congregation to prophesy (14:31)? How do I reconcile Paul’s permission in 11:5 and exhortation in 14:31 with his prohibition in 14:34–35? And if “it is shameful for a woman to speak in the church” (14:35), why have I always qualified Paul’s prohibition such that women may “speak to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” (Eph 5:19)?[1] If the prohibition is intended to be qualified, how is it to be qualified? How does Paul himself qualify it? How do we discern which forms of speech are allowed and which ones are not?
The questions didn’t end there. Was Paul speaking about all women or only wives? And if he is only speaking about wives (cf. 14:35), how does this prohibition apply to single women and widowed women? Also, what aspect of the law is Paul referencing in v. 35? Is he referencing creation order in Genesis 2 (cf. 1 Tim. 2:13)? (There are no texts in the Hebrew Bible that explicitly command wives to submit to their husbands.)[2] Or is he perhaps suggesting that women should submit to the principle of order and decency? The text never explicitly identifies the object of the submission. If the text is demanding some kind of submission to men, is this submission to all men, by virtue of their gender—or is it only to one’s husband, by virtue of their covenant commitment? And if it is the latter, again, how does this affect the unmarried women of the congregation?
1 Timothy 2:8–15 raises even more questions. Is Paul speaking here of all men and women, or only husbands and wives? Is his reference to women a generic reference—or is he referencing a particularly problematic group of women, such as the wealthy women identified in vv. 9–10 or the widows seducing men and teaching falsely in chapter 5? What is the grammatical relationship between the words “teach” and “assume authority” in v. 12? The Greek is ambiguous. Is Paul prohibiting women from all manifestations of teaching and authority? Or is he prohibiting women from teaching in a manner that domineers or usurps authority? If Paul has a neutral conception of authority in mind, why does he use αὐθεντεῖν, a rare word for authority that is negative in connotation and not found anywhere else in the New Testament, instead of ἐξουσία, the standard word for authority used elsewhere in his letters? And if women are prohibited from all manifestations of teaching and authority, is this only applicable in the church, or is it universally applicable (e.g., in secular contexts, like schools)? The setting is not made explicit in the text. Can women exercise authority as professors, doctors, lawyers, etc.? And does teaching/exercising authority encompass practices like praying, making announcements, reading Scripture, and/or leading musical worship in the assembly? Why or why not?
The answers to all these questions and more did not come quickly or easily. My brief conversation with that preacher started me on a journey that has continued to this day. I began to read on the topic obsessively. I wanted to wrestle through the arguments on all sides of the debate. I began by investigating egalitarian theology. Egalitarianism is the position opposite complementarianism; egalitarians argue that one’s leadership in the church and/or participation in the worship assembly is contingent upon one’s gifting and maturity in Christ rather than one’s gender. Put differently, women are not barred from any role in the assembly or from any office in the church by virtue of their gender. I bought several popular books written in defense of egalitarianism: Paul and Gender by Cynthia Long Westfall; Gender Roles and the People of God by Alice Mathews; Man and Woman: One in Christ by Philip Payne; and Paul, Women & Wives by Craig Keener—just to name a few. I also bought several popular books written in defense of complementarianism, including Women in the Church by Everett Ferguson; Women in the Church by Andreas Köstenberger and Thomas Schreiner; and Recovering Biblical Manhood & Womanhood by John Piper and Wayne Grudem.
As I made my way through these and other works, I became ashamed of how little thought I had given these important discussions. And I was even more humiliated by how often I had overlooked the stories of so many amazing women in the Bible, and the often authoritative roles they played: Miriam, Israel’s first worship leader and the third prophet mentioned in Torah; Deborah, a judge raised up by God Himself (cf. Judg 2:16), and the only judge to be called both a judge and a prophetess[3]; Huldah, the prophet who confirmed the Scriptural status of the book found by King Josiah, and who authorized Josiah and his High Priest to use reinstate this book as Law; Mary of Nazareth, the one chosen to bring Christ into the world; Anna, a prophet at the temple who preached about the future redemptive work of the Christ child; Joanna and Susanna, who left their homes to travel with Christ and fund His mission work; Mary, the sister of Martha, who was commended by Jesus for shattering cultural boundaries to disciple at His feet; Mary Magdalene, a female disciple and the first witness to Jesus’s resurrection, commissioned by Christ Himself to preach the resurrection to the apostles; the female prophets at Pentecost (Acts 2; cf. Joel 2:28); the four daughters of Phillip identified as prophets in the church (Acts 21:9); Priscilla, a prominent teacher in the early church (Acts 18:26); Phoebe, called both a ‘deacon’ and a ‘patron’ of the church; Maria, Tryphaena, Tryphosa, and Persis—ministry partners with Paul in Rome; Junia, called an ‘outstanding apostle’ and one presumably arrested for her ministry (Rom 16:7); Nympha, a leader of a house church in Colossae (Col 4:15); and the list goes on and on.
How did the extraordinary and authoritative work of these and so many other women comport with the restrictive view of women I had always been taught? How could I harmonize a text that seemingly barred women from teaching and leading (1 Tim 2:12) with other texts (from the very same author) that seemingly celebrated women who taught and led (e.g., Rom 16)? I began to research more thoroughly; I consulted every commentary and monograph I could get my hands on. I downloaded countless journal articles and became invested in decades-long academic debates over the meaning of key words like κεφαλή and αὐθεντεῖν. After two years of study, I became reasonably convinced of the egalitarian view, and I placed membership (along with my wife) at an egalitarian Church of Christ in Nashville, TN. In the six years since that time, I have only become more convinced of and committed to the egalitarian position. The church we placed membership at in 2020 unfortunately closed; but I’m blessed now to minister at the Acklen Avenue Church of Christ, which invites and promotes the full participation of women in ministry and worship. I’ve continued to study the topic with some level of regularity, keeping up with many of the newest major contributions to the subject as they’re released (e.g., I read Preston Sprinkle’s newest book on the topic this weekend); but nothing so far has caused me to waver in my convictions.
My change in view is something that I have kept ‘close to the chest’ until now, mostly out of fear of controversy and confrontation. While many of my closest friends and family already know about the shift, many of those I grew up with and/or went to college with are unaware. Increasingly, my silence has weighed heavily on my heart and conscience. For most of my life, I advocated for a theological position that not only normalized but even sanctified the subjugation of women in all facets of life. While language of equality and complementarity was used to soften the blow, the perspective I promoted was inescapably hierarchal—and I have become thoroughly convinced that this it is not only unbiblical, but potentially harmful. I echo the concerns of Dorothy Littell Greco, who writes:
We have to be willing to acknowledge that complementarian theology provides, and sometimes fosters, an environment for abuse…[T]hat doesn’t mean all churches or all individuals ascribing to complementarian practices and theology will be blind to or tolerate abuse. However, complementarianism seems to deny the reality that we live in a broken world. The belief that all men will faithfully protect women and consistently create spaces (whether familial or institutional) for women to be safe and flourish is noble. But it’s an ideal that doesn’t consistently work as intended, because misogyny is so endemic and the pull to worldly power is so strong.[4]
As Greco argues throughout the chapter, complementarians are not inherently misogynistic, nor are egalitarian churches incapable of abuse and misogyny; but a theological framework that mandates male-only leadership will naturally find itself more ill-equipped to defend women against the dangers of misogyny and abuse. Looking back, I can recognize in my own life various misogynistic thought patterns and unconscious biases toward women that were informed at least in part by a complementarian folk theology that is still alive and well in the church today. I grieve this deeply, and I want to sincerely repent not only for the ways I’ve personally devalued and marginalized women in my life—but also for my participation in systems that have perpetuated this kind of devaluing and marginalization. This is, in part, why I have felt urged to put an end to my silence.
Another reason is this: over the last several years, I have watched many of my sisters in Christ struggle to navigate a ministry calling because of these kinds of ecclesial strictures. Witnessing their struggle has made me aware of my own privilege. As a man, my involvement in worship and ministry has never been contingent upon this issue getting sorted out. I have never needed to defend my eligibility for ministry or the legitimacy of my calling. But so many women I know don’t have that luxury. So many women are clearly gifted and equipped for ministry, but continue to face exclusion and opposition from the church because of a theological framework that simply doesn’t hold up to scrutiny. What kind of person would I be if I stood by in silence simply to avoid controversy while these sisters of mine were fighting to be seen and heard?
And so I’m no longer afraid of any criticism or pushback (which I fully expect to receive). I am sincere in my belief that the egalitarian position is more faithful to Scripture; and I pray that egalitarian representation grows in the church. And if that’s truly my prayer (it is), I should of course be willing to model that representation myself. I recognize this will be controversial to many of my friends and family members who are still inhabiting complementarian spaces. Please hear me when I say that I still love and care for you all, and I recognize and honor our kinship in Christ. I hope you can extend the same courtesy and grace to me, despite our disagreements on this issue. My challenge to you is this: do your due diligence. This is an issue that affects the daily discipleship of 50%+ of the church; it’s not something to take lightly. Don’t accept a ‘strawman’ of the egalitarian position; expose yourself to the best ideas on both sides. Don’t read something you already agree with for reassurance; read something that challenges your presuppositions. You may still come to disagree with me—and that’s fine. I have several well-studied friends who disagree with my position; and we’ve had cordial and constructive conversations on this topic. But please, I beg you, do your due diligence.
To help get you started on your journey, I’ve created a resource for you. For a while, I toyed with the idea of writing a blog series that distilled all of my research on the topic. The series would have covered major topics and texts like Gen 1–3; women in the OT; women in the Gospels; Rom 16; 1 Cor 11; 1 Cor 14; and 1 Timothy 2–3. But after getting 10 pages in on Microsoft Word and only scratching the surface of the subject, I realized a blog was not a suitable medium; I’d need to write a book of my own to cover all of that material. And there are already so many helpful books on women’s roles—many of which have been written by brilliant women powerfully living out their own ministry calling. So, I decided to provide you all with a bibliography of resources instead.
At the time of my writing this, this is a 16-page, color-coded, annotated bibliography. At the beginning of the document, I describe the three broad camps that most Christian churches fall in (hard complementarian, soft complementarian, and egalitarian); and I color-code the resources according to their respective camps. Every resource written by a ‘hard complementarian’ is red; every resource written by a ‘soft complementarian’ is blue; and every resource written by an ‘egalitarian’ is green. Every resource written by a Restorationist theologian is underlined; and every resource written by a woman is in bold. I commend to you especially the books written by women. Women bring interpretive vantage points shaped by their lived experience within the very structures this debate concerns. In a theological conversation that has historically been dominated by male voices, reading the work of women ensures that the conversation reflects the broader church rather than only one segment of it.
The bibliography is a collection of many of the resources I’ve consulted on this topic over the years. As I read and consult new resources, I try to remember to add them to this bibliography. Because of this, the document has grown over the years and will continue to grow in the years to come. I try to add helpful annotations to major entries; but I admit that I haven’t always had the time to keep up with those. If you have any questions about a particular resource that I have not yet annotated, please reach out to me and I’ll be glad to offer you some insight on it. To that end, if you have any questions while navigating this study, please reach out to me and I’ll do my best to respond as I have time.
Click Here for the Annotated Bibliography!
If you’ve read this far, I want to thank you. This has been one of the longest blog posts I’ve shared; but it’s something I’ve wanted to share for a very long time. If you’ve chosen to embark on a study of this issue, I commend you and wish you well on your journey! And for all my brothers and sisters in Christ, regardless of whether or not you agree with me, may the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you. Peace!
[1] Historically, many hard complementarians have used this passage to argue against women singing in the assembly! A preacher from Churches of Christ argued this position as recently as 1982. See B. B. James, “Difficult Passages in I Corinthians No. III,” in Studies in I Corinthians, ed. Dub McClish (Denton, TX: Pearl Street Church of Christ, 1982), 352–63.
[2] The closest the OT comes to explicitly addressing this is Genesis 3:16; and this is a part of the curse narrative, in the wake of the Fall. Why would Paul want the church to prescribe and uphold a curse from the Fall—especially in light of the new creation that Christ had inaugurated (Gal. 3:28)? As a new Adam, Christ actively works to reverse the effects of the Fall.
[3] It is also worth noting that Torah likens the authority of the judges to the authority of priests (Deuteronomy 17:12).
[4] Dorothy Littell Greco, For the Love of Women: Uprooting and Healing Misogyny in America (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2025), 140–41.
Jared Dale Greer 
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