My niece, Catrina Niebruegge, a long-time student of Scripture, recently completed a doctorate in Theology.  She has now written a book, Called: What the Bible Really Says About Women in Ministry, based on her dissertation topic. Reading it, I was struck by her methodology of carefully examining scriptural statements in an attempt to inform her thinking and guide her life according to ancient precepts, or in Jungian terms, to align her personhood with long-standing archetypal themes.  C.G. Jung in The Visions Seminars stated, "We must read the Bible or we shall not understand psychology. Our psychology, whole lives, our language and imagery are built upon the Bible." (C.G. Jung, The Visions Seminar Vol. 1; Page 156.) 

Because of the parallels of her experiences and conclusions with Jung's approach to understanding one's own psychology, I asked her to write a short piece for my blog outlining her approach and her major conclusions.  Below is that piece:

I did not set out to write a book defending women in ministry. In fact, for years, I was firmly convinced that women should not occupy positions of leadership within the Church. My belief was sincere, and more importantly, I believed it was biblically based. Passages such as 1 Timothy 2 and 1 Corinthians 14* seemed clear to me. Paul said he did not permit a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man. He instructed women to remain silent in the churches. I believed those passages settled the issue, and because I wanted to be faithful to Scripture, I saw no reason to question that conclusion.

Then one experience forced me to confront a question I could not answer. I was attending a worship and teaching retreat in Tennessee where a woman was ministering to thousands of people. As I watched, there was no denying that something significant was happening. People were responding to the Gospel. Hearts were being changed. Lives were being touched. Near me was a man who was clearly deeply affected by what he was hearing. I felt compelled to pray with him, and together we prayed, wept, and experienced what I can only describe as the healing presence of God.

Later that evening, a friend asked me a simple question:  “If God used this woman to bring healing to that man's life today, should she have remained silent simply because she was a woman?” I couldn't answer her. That question did not suddenly make me change my theology. It did something much more important: it made me willing to question my long-held interpretation.

I knew God did not contradict His Word. So, if I believed I was witnessing God work through the ministry of a woman, I had to consider two possibilities. Either what I had witnessed was not from God, or I had misunderstood some of the Scriptures upon which I had built my position.

That question began a journey lasting years. I prayed. I fasted. I studied. I researched. I returned again and again to passages I thought I already understood. And instead of asking only, “What does the Bible say women cannot do?” I began asking a much larger question:  What does the whole Bible reveal about women, calling, leadership, authority, and the work of the Holy Spirit?

My deep inquiry changed everything.

I began in Genesis, looking again at the creation of male and female in the image of God and examining what it means for woman to be described as ezer, or helper. I studied women God used throughout the Old Testament, including Deborah and Huldah. I examined the world Jesus entered and then paid close attention to the way Jesus interacted with women—not simply as people He helped, but as disciples, learners, witnesses, and participants in His ministry.

I looked at the women entrusted with the news of the resurrection. I studied Pentecost, where Peter proclaimed the fulfillment of Joel's prophecy that God's Spirit would be poured out upon sons and daughters and that both would prophesy.

Then I began looking carefully at the women of the early Church and at Paul's own ministry partners: women such as Priscilla, Phoebe, and Junia. I considered Paul's acknowledgment that women were praying and prophesying in Christian gatherings.

Eventually, I came back to the passages that had once seemed to settle the entire question for me: “Women should keep silent.” “I do not permit a woman to teach.” “The husband of one wife.”

But this time, I didn't read those sentences alone. I examined their context. I studied what was happening in Corinth and Ephesus. I looked at the language Paul used, including the difficult Greek word authenteō in 1 Timothy 2. I considered Paul's instructions alongside his own recognition of women participating in ministry. Most importantly, I tried to allow all of Scripture to inform my understanding rather than allowing a handful of verses to determine in advance what every other passage must mean.

I eventually reached a startling conclusion. I no longer believe Scripture teaches that being a woman, by itself, disqualifies someone from preaching, teaching, leading, or responding to God's call to ministry.  That conclusion was not the result of abandoning biblical authority. For me, it came from taking biblical authority seriously enough to reconsider whether my earlier interpretation had been correct. That distinction became one of the most important ideas behind my book, Called: What the Bible Really Says About Women in Ministry.

In Christian language, being “called” means believing that God has given you a particular purpose or work to do. It doesn't necessarily mean becoming a pastor or working in a church. A calling can be any place where a person believes God has uniquely equipped and directed them to serve, influence, create, lead, help, or make a difference.

There is a difference between Scripture and our interpretation of Scripture. Scripture is authoritative. Our interpretations are not infallible. That means we should have enough confidence in God's Word to examine our beliefs honestly. If what we believe is true, careful study will strengthen it. And if we discover that we have misunderstood something, changing our position is not abandoning Scripture. Sometimes it is an act of submission to it.

I also want to be clear about something else. My book Called  is not written to attack Christians who believe differently. I understand those Christians because I was one of them. Many people who believe pastoral or church leadership should be reserved for men hold that conviction because they sincerely want to obey Scripture. I respect that desire even though my own study eventually led me to a different conclusion.

My hope is not that readers simply replace one inherited opinion with mine. My invitation is the same one found in Acts 17:11: search the Scriptures and see whether these things are so. Be a Berean!

Somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn't only writing a book about women in ministry. I was writing about calling. If God establishes a boundary, we should honor it. But if we establish a boundary that God never established and then place His name on it, we should have the courage to reconsider it.

And that principle reaches far beyond gender. How many people have ignored God's calling because they believed they were too old, too young, too broken, too inexperienced, too ordinary, or simply the wrong kind of person? How often do fear, tradition, insecurity, expectations, or the opinions of others become louder than God's invitation?

Jesus said that He came so that we might have life and have it more abundantly. I believe part of that abundant life is becoming who God created us to be and faithfully doing what He calls us to do. That is ultimately the heart of Called. It is a book about women in ministry. It is a book about Scripture. But even more than that, it is an invitation to ask a deeply personal question: If God is calling, what is keeping me from saying yes?

*All biblical references are from NKJV.

Catrina Niebruegge, ThD

August 27, 2026

 

 

SPEEDING OVER THE HILL

The doctor asked, “Do you want a pneumonia shot?  You know, pneumonia is a Big Danger for older people.”  “Older people!”  I am turning 65 and now, suddenly, am classed in Older People?  I look at her, wondering if she can read my thoughts.  She is young, very young.  

Papering over my reaction to her comment, I say, “O.K.  If you recommend it.”  She has more bad news—osteoporosis, bone density test, low Vitamin D, mammogram.  She thinks I might have to take something for my bones.  I hear, “Looming osteoporosis, dowager’s hump, pain.”  I feel older.  I felt young, alive, vibrant when I came into this examining room.  I feel vulnerable.  I want to put my clothes back on.

I nod my head in agreement.  Inside my head, though, “Not me, Sister!  I took estrogen for years because my then so confident, knowing physician told me it was absolutely necessary to protect my bones.  Now I’m in for a litany of tests for breast cancer because He was so wrong 20 years ago.  Now YOU want me to take a new drug!  FORGETABOUT IT”

I would like to engage this young, self-assured primary care physician in a discussion about the history of miracle drugs.  Remember the women who took the drug that resulted in their daughters getting cancer?  Remember that?  Remember Thalidomide?  Lithium? Did you ever read the article in the NEW YORKER about the life cycle for wonder drugs?  Thirty years, three decades.  The first ten years the drugs are widely touted and prescribed.  The second ten years, questions and lawsuits arise.  The third ten years the poor innocent victims get sicker and sicker.  My mind refuses to go over the cliff that is the next ten years.  I write a book in my head but don’t open my mouth.

She is very busy and professional—too busy for this kind of chitchat.  She types intently into a computer.  In alarm, I flash forward to her typing out my death certificate.  My thoughts go to the fact that this is the young woman who will probably tend to me through my declining years to my death.  My spirits lag further.  She flashes me a smile and says, “Mitzi will be in to give you your pneumonia shot.”   

I lie back on the examining table.  My mind is reeling.  The image of the Grim Reaper appears.  What about my eulogy?  Where will I be buried?  I remember a friend once said the determining factor for funeral attendance is the weather.  I pray for good weather.   My God, I’ve got a lot to do, and I had better get busy!  I wonder if an older doctor might be a good idea, one not so chipper and matter-of-fact, one who knows we all grow older, one who is involved.   Immediately I veto the thought.  Too out-dated.  I need someone who knows about modern medicine.  I feel old.  

Mitzi comes in.  She looks young, very young—16 or 24.  She gives me my pneumonia shot.  Two days later I have a terrible reaction.  I end up in the ER, am admitted to the hospital to the neurological floor.  I am very busy.  I write an encyclopedia’s worth of stuff in my head.  No one seems to believe me when I say the pneumonia shot caused my problem.  Teams of white-coated nodding physicians stand by my bed.  Tests.  A lumbar puncture.  I translate “spinal tap” and rewrite “Miss Evers’ Boys.”  An MRI is scheduled.  My alarm grows.  My inner typist speeds up.  Then, A very big and important man pronounces ‘Bell’s palsy.”  They send me home.  I have aged ten years in a week.