Nothing to prove

After reading All My Knotted-Up Life: A Memoir, I want Beth Moore to be my new best friend. She’s indefatigable. Hilarious. Vulnerable.

I first heard of Moore when she made headlines for being treated crassly by some evangelical leaders, including, notably, John MacArthur. Playing a game at a conference, MacArthur was asked to respond to the prompt “Beth Moore.” He instantly quipped, “Go home.” Audience members tittered or gasped at the affront. MacArthur pivoted, exploiting the insult as a soapbox for his opposition to women clergy. I knew nothing about Beth Moore, but was irked by MacArthur’s attitude and by the other disparaging remarks made by the men on stage. It was an ugly pile-on.

I did a little research. Blond, perky, and graced with strong Southern accent, Beth Moore looked and sounded to me like a Bible Belt Barbie doll. Celebrity shtick, I wondered? (Forgive me, Beth). She was indeed a star in the Southern Baptist Convention, a “teacher,” not “preacher,” whose outreach carefully conformed to accepted complementarian standards. Moore’s Living Proof Ministries was big business, catering to a massive following of women who couldn’t get enough of her Bible Studies and conferences.

To her credit, Moore didn’t respond for two years to the dismissive invitation to “Go home.” She was waiting patiently for the men to admit their fault: “I was going to say I knew what it was like to let your mouth get away from you and I forgive you without hesitation.” No apologies ever came her way.

In 2016, for reasons that will become clear, Moore took her own tribe to task for backing Trump. She was appalled at how readily his sexual harassment of women was minimized and excused. Her outspoken criticism of evangelical support for Trump catalyzed a backlash that threatened to destroy her. Friends accused her of betrayal. Her books were burned. Contracts cancelled. Her life imploded.

But today my new “friend” Beth Moore is currently attending an Episcopal church in Texas and still speaking up for Jesus. Read her memoir. She’s a good writer! Be cheered by her humour and heartened by her feisty faith. Follow her back to her Arkansas roots. Her depiction of her ragtag upbringing is the best kind of funny, cached within an unconditional love for her family, especially her wiseacre Nanny. Experience the beauty of her early, fervent love for Jesus. Weep at her searingly restrained account of the childhood sexual abuse she suffered at the hands of her own troubled father. Witness her intensifying awareness of the racism in her world. Journey with her as she navigates a loving, long-lasting marriage to a husband who has post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and bipolar mental illness.

I was pained at how hard Beth tried to be deferential to all the men in her life and how she sought to avoid giving offense even to those who ridiculed her. She “knew” that a “male covering was the key to a woman being blessed by God in ministry,” so she went to extravagant lengths to assure her audiences (and herself) that she was “coming under authority.” Her gradual awakening to the unnecessary restrictions under which she had laboured to do God’s work is told with humility. This book is not a diatribe. It’s an honest story, shared to bless others, like me. Here’s a tweet to ponder by my new bestie (February 2022): “If we know who we are in Christ, we’ve got nothing to prove. Just people to love and serve. It is God who proves us genuine, not we ourselves.” Preach, sister!