This film, produced by Baptist Women in Ministry and Good Faith Media in 2018, weaves together the threads of Mary Alice’s story as she learned what it means to take a brave next step. From growing up with Osteogenesis Imperfecta to discerning a call to ministry in spaces traditionally led by men, her journey has been shaped as much by doubt and challenge as it has by courage. It is a story of resilience, community, and the hard-earned truth that we can do hard things—and we were never meant to do them alone.
No. 1: Mary Alice
The first installment in a short-film series highlighting female Baptist pastors.
A Courier-Journal Letter to the Editor
A Female Pastor’s Open Letter to Al Mohler: ‘I’m sorry your God is so small.’
Dear Dr. Mohler,
Although we haven’t met yet, you and I are new neighbors to one another in Louisville. I serve as the pastor of Highland Baptist Church, just down the road from Southern Seminary.
I was called as pastor of Highland last year, and I joined a team of remarkable pastors on our staff, many of whom happen to be women. In fact, we like to point out that there are actually high-heel marks in the wooden floor of our chancel from all the women who have preached in Highland’s pulpit over the years…
My Weekly Benediction
May the God who calls you from this place
journey with you as you go.
May God delight in you with joy, bringing unimagined graces
Walk with you in darkness, shining light along your way.
May God be close to you in pain, giving strength for every moment.
And comfort you in fear, granting courage to be brave.
May God’s love surround you,
May Christ’s mercy astound you,
And may the Spirit abound in you,
So that you live in the fullness
of the God who is with you always.
Amen.
A Prayer for Pride
Oh Holy One, You came out—
creating light that sparkles and dances in the dark,
pouring Love into every shape and shade of being,
and making each of us in Your image. No exceptions.
You called us good. 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.
But somewhere along the way, we named it bad.
We built boxes—straight and narrow.
Called what You made “shame.”
Whispered “no” where You had shouted a divine 𝘠𝘌𝘚.
And yet— Your Love kept coming out.
Breaking down boxes. Shattering shame.
Crossing the lines we tried to draw.
Building a table wide enough for all.
Your Love comes out still—
in queerness, in courage,
in every brave 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 that dares to be.
Be with those who can’t come out,
who’ve been told “no” too many times:
shut out of churches, left out of families,
cut out from care, from funding, from safety—
no wonder they struggle to hear Your voice out there.
In a world full of no’s,
may we come out, cry out, live out, shout out—𝙔𝙀𝙎.
𝙔𝙀𝙎, you are God’s beloved.
𝙔𝙀𝙎, you are wonderfully made.
𝙔𝙀𝙎, you are the light of the world.
𝙔𝙀𝙎, you are so very needed out here.
Amen.
A Blessing for Graduates
My uncle, Jack Birdwhistell, was a beloved religion professor who taught for many years at Georgetown College. I wrote the following blessing for graduates inspired by many of the things I had learned from him that I gave at Georgetown’s commencement ceremony the year he passed away:
As you begin the next chapter God has for you, may you go into the world as a person who has been transformed in this place. May you always seek to discover the places where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.[1]
May you explore every corner of God’s good world, taking snapshots at each landmark along your journey.
May you have the passion to fight injustice, the audacity to light a spark that just might catch on fire.
May you continue to think deeply, and even more so, may you love deeply, too.
May you push back against the relentless busyness of the world around you, and take moments to be still. To listen. To read every book you can get your hands on. And to wonder.
May you refuse to take yourself too seriously, because sometimes moments of laughter can be the most sacred moments of all.
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you really can make a difference,
and enough courage to give it a try.[2]
And may you be surrounded by the love of a God who goes before you, behind you, beside you, and is always with you.
Amen.
[1] Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC
[2] Based on a Franciscan Blessing
[2] Based on a Franciscan Blessing
Cry Out: A Prayer for the City of Louisville in 2020
Like the Israelites who cried out to you in the wilderness,
we Louivillians cry out to you today, oh God.
We cry out for a city that is overwhelmed and hurting
because of the ways we are infected not only by a pandemic, but also by the virus of racism.
We cry out because of systems that are unjust
and heavily stacked against some and not others.
We cry out with all those whose cries in the night have
been silenced or ignored and never heard.
And we cry out for our sister Breonna Taylor,
who cannot cry out for herself today.
As we wander through this wilderness,
we cry out today and say, “How long, oh Lord?”
How long until justice rolls down like the
waters of the Ohio?
How long until a peace that passes understanding
permeates this place?
How long until love knows no bounds in our beloved city?
How long until you make a way in this wilderness, oh God!
And yet, as we cry out to you today here in downtown Louisville, I can’t help but wonder if you are doing the same.
If you are crying out, too, as Jesus did when he wept over the city Jerusalem.
So perhaps, God, we stand here in Waterfront Park, with our siblings from faith traditions across our city, and we cry out together, trusting that you meet us here.
But even as we cry out, help us also to listen.
Because we might just hear your voice crying out to us.
Crying out for us to repent of the ways we have
contributed to this unjust system in which we live.
Crying out for us to work against the racist structures
within our city.
Crying out for us to act justly, to love mercy,
and to walk in your lovingkindness.
And crying out for us to be people of peace
and harbingers of hope in this place.
May we hear your cry, and respond with courage, oh God.
We yearn for the day when you will wipe every tear from our eyes. When death will be no more – mourning and crying and pain will be over. And we hope for the day when you promise to do a new thing – when you will make a way in this wilderness.
But in the meantime, help us to be people who live into that hope, who walk in your ways, who work for your kin-dom, on earth as it is in heaven.
For we know that our crying may last for the night,
but joy comes in the morning.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
A Blessing for Women’s Equality
Blessed are the women who came before us,
who dreamed and worked and fought
for a world they might never see,
yet blazed trails for us to follow.
Blessed are the women of today,
whose voices rise, whose gifts shine,
and whose courage clears new paths
for those still finding their way.
Blessed are the girls yet to come,
may they inherit a story even wider than ours,
one rooted in dignity, worth, agency,
and possibility beyond imagining.
And blessed are we of every gender—
as we learn to see and honor the face of God in one another.
May we amplify each other’s voices,
lift up untold stories,
and empower others along the journey,
so that equality is not a “dream deferred”
but a truth we live, together.