Down in Dallas, the Southern Baptist Convention was once again explaining why women shouldn't preach.

Which is awkward.

Because the Bible itself seems remarkably unconcerned with modern debates over whether women should be allowed near microphones. Scripture is full of women who lead, teach, prophesy, bankroll ministries, rescue entire nations, and occasionally tell the men around them to sit down and hush.

So before anybody starts quoting one verse from 1st Timothy like it's the eleventh commandment, let's remember something:

The Bible got messy long before Bravo.

Honestly, if Andy Cohen had been around in biblical times, several books would've come with reunion specials.

And I'd probably watch every episode.

Deborah wasn't organizing the covered dish supper and making sure there were enough napkins.

She was leading Israel.
She settled disputes.
She spoke for God.
She commanded armies.

Which would make for a pretty awkward personnel committee interview in some churches today.

"Well, Deborah, your résumé is certainly impressive, but have you considered heading up Hospitality?"

Apparently nobody told her she was supposed to stay out of the pulpit.

Or Esther.
Or Miriam.
Or Priscilla.
Or Phoebe.
Or Junia.

Esther saved her people. Miriam was singing theology before David ever picked up a harp. Priscilla corrected Apollos, who wasn't exactly some rookie Sunday school teacher. Phoebe carried Paul's letter to Rome, which means she probably had to explain it too. And Junia made enough of an impression that Paul called her outstanding among the apostles.

Meanwhile, entire denominations are acting like letting Susan preach on Sunday might bring about the collapse of Western civilization.

Honestly, Deborah would've rolled her eyes so hard they would've heard it in Canaan.

If you think your family gatherings are complicated, may I introduce you to Jacob?

The man somehow turned one relationship into four and spent the next several decades wondering why his life felt chaotic.

Rachel and Leah spent years trying to find value in a culture that measured women by husbands and children. Throw in two servants, a pile of jealousy, and some mandrakes, and you've got enough material to keep therapists employed for generations.

And somehow God kept showing up in the middle of all that mess.

Which should encourage anybody whose Thanksgiving dinners occasionally require assigned seating and a prayer beforehand.

Rebekah manipulated.
Jacob deceived.
Then Laban turned around and deceived Jacob.
Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery and spent years pretending they hadn't.

Nobody in Genesis ever really says, "Let's just move on.” No, these folks remembered.

They revisited old arguments.
They brought up things from twenty years ago.
They held grudges.

Honestly, if they'd had smartphones, family group texts would've been entered into evidence.

Abraham lied.
Isaac played favorites.
Jacob manipulated anybody standing close enough.
David abused power.
Solomon apparently thought wives were a collectible hobby.
Samson made life decisions based on hair and vibes.
Peter couldn't stay out of trouble.
And Jonah threw what may be history's most famous prophetic hissy fit.

Which is another way of saying Scripture isn't a book about emotionally healthy people. It's a book about people. Which, thankfully, is all God has ever had to work with.

Anybody who's ever hosted Thanksgiving dinner knows exactly who Martha is. Anybody who's ever gotten lost in a conversation and forgotten what time it was knows Mary too. I suspect both sisters thought the other one was missing something important.

Which, honestly, is how siblings work. That's one of the reasons I love the story.

Jesus doesn't shame Martha.

He doesn't rebuke Mary.

He just invites everybody deeper.

Besides, if you've ever cooked for twenty people while everybody else sat around talking, you know Martha deserves a little grace.

Can you imagine trying to explain to Deborah that she's welcome to judge Israel but not welcome behind the pulpit?

Or telling Mary Magdalene—the first witness to the Resurrection—that she'd need to leave the preaching to the boys?

Martha would've organized the meeting.

Mary would've ignored the agenda.

Phoebe would've handled the finances.

Priscilla would've corrected everybody's theology.

And Deborah would've adjourned the whole thing before lunch.

Meanwhile, half the men would still be arguing over Robert's Rules of Order and whether the motion needed a second.

Now before anybody lights a candle and sends me angry emails, I'm not saying Jezebel was a saint. I'm just saying every group needs somebody to blame, and poor Jezebel has spent three thousand years getting cast as the villain in sermons she wasn't around to defend herself from.

Meanwhile, David committed adultery, arranged a murder, and somehow still gets inspirational coffee mugs.

Funny how that works.

One of the things I love most about Scripture is that nobody gets cleaned up for publication.

Sarah laughed.
Moses argued.
Jonah pouted.
Peter denied Jesus.
Paul and Barnabas split up.
Elijah burned out.
David spiraled.
Martha worried.
Mary grieved.

And through all of it, God kept working. Not because these people had everything together. But because they didn't.

Which is good news.

Because if holiness required emotional stability, healthy family dynamics, and perfect decisions, most of us would've been written out by Genesis chapter 3.

One of the things I love about Scripture is that nobody bothered to edit the women into being smaller than they were.

Deborah still leads.
Esther still risks everything.
Miriam still sings.
Mary Magdalene still announces resurrection.
Priscilla still teaches.
Phoebe still carries Paul's letter.
Junia still gets called an apostle.

They weren't quiet.
They weren't uncomplicated.
And they weren't particularly interested in staying inside the boxes people built for them.

Which is why I have to smile when denominations spend so much energy trying to decide whether women belong behind pulpits.

Apparently nobody told Deborah.

Or Esther.
Or Miriam.
Or Mary Magdalene.
Or Priscilla.
Or Phoebe.
Or Junia.

The Bible had strong, brilliant, stubborn, complicated women long before Bravo had Real Housewives.

And somehow God kept handing them the mic.

Funny how that works.