Silence Was Never the Gospel
Let The Women Be Silent?
What if the words “let the women be silent” were never meant to protect men in power—but were instead misused to keep women from exposing harm?
For generations, many women in the church were taught that holiness meant quiet endurance. That faith meant protecting institutions, reputations, and powerful men—even when wrongdoing was obvious.
But silence and righteousness have never been the same thing.
The Misunderstood Command
I have been trying to articulate my thoughts on a subject that has been sitting with me for weeks. Sometimes writing is the only way to bring clarity.
Growing up in the church, I often heard the command from scripture that women should be silent in the church. What I never heard was the full context of that passage. Instead, I heard interpretations—always from men—about the roles women should or should not have.
Women could serve, but usually in positions that supported men rather than lead alongside them.
Over and over, I heard men speak about submission. Yet many who used that word seemed to misunderstand it entirely. In practice, submission often meant loyalty to those in power, deference to authority, and financial or social allegiance to men higher up the ladder. It became another way of maintaining proximity to power.
As a young woman observing the church, I saw something else as well.
I saw women who remained silent through abuse from their husbands.
Women who endured years of infidelity.
Women who quietly knew their husbands had fathered children outside their marriage.
Yet they stayed—afraid of what leaving might cost them: their reputation, their livelihood, their standing in the church community.
Speaking out would have brought shame, consequences, and isolation.
So they remained silent.
The Silence Around Women’s Stories
Now here we are in 2026, and women from every walk of life are finding the courage to speak about abuse they experienced—often as young girls—at the hands of powerful men.
Scripture itself records the stories of women whose voices were never fully heard.
Tamar, the daughter of King David, was raped by her half-brother Amnon. Through manipulation, he convinced their father to send Tamar to care for him while he pretended to be sick. Though King David was angry when he learned what happened, he did not punish his son. Tamar lived the rest of her life in desolation in her brother Absalom’s house.
Another woman, Dinah, the daughter of Jacob, was raped by Shechem, a prince. Scripture records the act, but says almost nothing about Dinah’s life afterward.
These women were victims of men in positions of power. In biblical times, women were often treated as property—chattel. Tragically, that mindset has never fully disappeared.
Today we continue to hear account after account of powerful men abusing, assaulting, and exploiting young women as if they are still nothing more than property.
And still, many voices say the same thing they have said for centuries:
Let the women be silent.
But why?
Who Benefits From Silence?
And perhaps the more important question now is this:
Who benefits from women remaining silent?
The answer is obvious. The man who committed the act benefits. Institutions benefit—whether they are political, religious, or part of any powerful sector that seeks to protect its image more than it seeks justice.
Recently I saw a post about a powerful preacher who had been sentenced to prison for sexually abusing a minor. After serving only a year, there are already voices calling for him to be restored to his position of leadership.
What troubled me even more was seeing hundreds of women supporting that idea.
Do not use scripture to silence what this man did.
Because when a woman finally finds the courage to speak about abuse, the message that often circles back to her—from leadership or even from the man who harmed her—is this:
“See, you should have stayed quiet.”
But that was never the heart of what the Apostle Paul meant when he addressed order in the early church.
Paul was not commanding women to remain silent in the face of wrongdoing. He was calling for order in gatherings where many voices were speaking at once. Even a courtroom judge calls for order when too many people speak at the same time.
In those days, women rarely had a voice in the room. Paul encouraged them to ask their husbands at home in hopes their concerns would be carried back to the men in leadership.
But those days are behind us.
Women now have a seat at the table. We have voices, and those voices matter.
And if we are waiting for others to carry our concerns into the room for us, we may be waiting forever while more women continue to suffer in silence.
Faith was never meant to protect power.
Faith was meant to protect people.
And justice was never meant to be quiet.
The answer is no longer silence.
The answer is truth.
The answer is courage.
And the answer is that women will speak.
Mama Wisdom Reflection
There is a difference between peace and silence.
Peace comes when truth is brought into the light.
Silence often comes from fear.
For generations, many women were taught that faith meant quiet endurance—that protecting institutions or powerful men was somehow holy. But real faith has never asked us to protect wrongdoing.
Mama Wisdom says this:
If your voice shakes when you speak the truth, speak anyway.
Courage does not always sound loud. Sometimes it sounds like a trembling voice that finally refuses to stay silent.
Justice begins the moment someone decides that truth matters more than protecting power.
And when women finally speak, it is not rebellion.
