Shamu's Redemption
And other thoughts about reordering leadership in the Church.
In 1971, a female orca named Shamu clamped onto the leg of a SeaWorld employee named Annette Eckis after she attempted to ride on the back of the animal. What had started as a publicity stunt, quickly turned into a life-threatening situation as the theme park secretary fought for her life. Annette wrestled to remove her leg from its teeth and other employees came to her aid, but it was only when a trainer shoved a steel pole into its mouth that Shamu loosened its grip. Annette was freed that day from the jaws of this sea mammal but what many did not understand was how the capture, treatment, and captivity of Shamu led to this violent attack. While Annette’s life wasn’t lost that day, much of the public was not aware that Shamu’s behavior could be traced back to the murder of her own mother in the wild—murder that was motivated by the kidnapping of Shamu, who fought to stay beside her mother in her death, and which kept her in bondage for the rest of her life.
It wasn’t until the 1993 film Free Willy that the public became aware of the plight of the orca and laws began to form that required SeaWorld to document all orca deaths. Another 2013 film, Blackfish, a documentary, was the final nail in the coffin for SeaWorld’s mismanagement of their “killer whale” program. By the time SeaWorld shut down their orca shows, they had been responsible for 44 deaths of the majestic animal, with only 74 now remaining in the region they were originally captured in.
It is a strange thing when a topic like this suddenly pops into my head. I loved Free Willy as a kid, and I have always had a very soft spot for animals, but talk about random… this hasn’t really been on my radar for years. But where there is seeming randomness, I’ve learned that God is usually on the other end of it with a not-so-random message.
As a woman in the church at large, I’ve been feeling a little trapped lately, myself. I’m thankful to have been surrounded by strong female leaders the last few years and men who empower the women around them, but I have to say, when I step outside of the confines of my home church in Los Angeles and look around at the rest of the Body, it’s hard to find a place that feels safe as a female follower. Especially a single woman in her 40s. But today I won’t dive too deep in the specifics of that experience.
In general though, I’m pretty discouraged by the amount of both blatant and subtle misogyny I see in the men I’m supposed to trust and respect. And well, let’s face it—some of the women too.
Like when a man blocked me on TikTok for saying that those who’ve been proven predatory toward women should be removed from the ministry, all while he cried “God is a God of restoration,” yet not mentioning at all the damage to the lives of the women or the safety of others in the future.
Or when a male student who was in missions school with me said, “I don’t trust a woman to pastor because I’ve seen them be very manipulative with prophecy…” but fails to mention men like Mike Bickle, Bob Jones, Bob Hartley, Paul Cain and many more who’ve not only manipulated women but used prophecy as an excuse to sexually abuse them (and in some cases, young men).
Or when I’ve noticed popular, married, over-40 male speakers prophesy over exclusively pretty young women and almost never see them ministering to or hanging out with men, or anyone over the age of 32, for that matter.
Or when I see a missions school, begun by a man that has historically empowered women leaders in ministry, schedule only 2 female speakers out of 11 total, both of which were either a leader for the program or related to a leader in the program—well, I have to question the legacy of said leader’s ideal to empower women.
Or when I see most of the American church support a politician whose contempt for and terrible treatment of women is so obvious, it’s impossible to ignore. And yet, well, it is ignored anyway.
Well, let’s just say, I’m struggling to find my place in this kind of world. And I honestly sometimes wonder if I even want to have a place in it.
I’ve done a lot of work on myself in the last couple of years. Exploring my history as the daughter of a relatively conservative pastor has required me to be really honest about my own internalized misogyny. Growing up, I saw how women were required to cook and clean for the men while the men sat back to watch football games. How my only hope to be in ministry would be to go to Africa as a missionary or marry a pastor, where I should, by the way, “learn to play guitar” because it will be “really useful as a pastor’s wife.”
How challenging a male leader or asserting my autonomy and agency just proves how “stubborn” I am … and maybe even get me called a “Jezebel.” Oh happy day. And even if I am correct and a dude is wrong about something, proving them wrong just makes me look really “difficult” or dare I say, even “crazy.” Oh, and I can’t help but notice their absolute looks of contempt for a woman that might have something important to say that they don’t agree with.
It would be wrong to say I haven’t struggled with bitterness and had to pin it to the ground a few times. Trust me, Jesus and I have talked about it a ton.
But as I write this, I recall a conversation I had with a young woman in Leipzig, Germany a few months ago. She was an unhoused woman named Mel, who happened to be very bright, creative, and also spoke excellent English.
“Why should I trust Jesus with my life? He’s a man after all. Why should I trust anything a man has to say?”
I thought for a moment before I responded. “Because Jesus is the best man that ever lived. The only perfect man. He treated women with honor and respect when the rest of the world, including religious leaders, devalued them and treated them like property. He gave them dignity, he defended and protected them from those who tried to harm them. He welcomed them as part of his entourage when Pharisees wouldn’t even be seen with a woman who wasn’t their wife or daughter. No one had ever treated women as well as Jesus treated them.”
She paused for a moment. This wasn’t the kind of thing she learned about Jesus while growing up in communism. “I would like to know more about this. How can I contact you so that we can talk more?”
The world sees how Christians treat women. How the bodies of women are less valuable than the coveted progeny of men. Not that children are not also valuable. Jesus was definitely clear about that. But the world sees how believers are always ready to sacrifice the women for their own benefit—for their own power—their own legacies. And what the world thinks about us—how we treat each other—well, it is actually really important (see John 13:34-35).
And women have bought into the narrative as well, because men have decided that our relationship with them is what gives us any value at all. Since women already have little power, little agency in (most of) the church, well, what else are we supposed to believe? For years I thought my life really hadn’t started until the moment I was married and had children. My whole life was wrapped up in the idea that this is what made me worthy. Not my identity as a daughter of God—as an heir in His Kingdom—but because a man’s acceptance of me, his opinion of me, told the world that I had value.
Yeah. I don’t believe that crap anymore.
The original Shamu died at 33 years old. She was supposed to live to 100, but because she was not allowed to live her true identity—as a creature of a vast, wild ocean—she died in captivity of a blood disease that would have never occurred if she hadn’t been hunted down to train and abuse for entertainment.
As I see more and more men in ministry turn into worse predators than the last, abusing women and then blaming them for the abuse they themselves inflicted, I can’t help but see Jesus’ beloved Church turning into a dangerous shark pool where women’s stories and voices are dismissed and their important contribution in the Kingdom of God’s Son is diminished for the sake of of their ego and power (or their chosen elected politician’s).
I think it’s time for another reformation. And this one’s gonna hurt.