What Does It Mean to Champion Women?

I was sitting in a boardroom surrounded by pastoral leaders from across Australia. It was my turn to share what I hoped to contribute to this group. I began confidently, “I bring my experience and my service…” But before I could finish, a colleague interrupted. “Of course, for you, Sarah, that must be quite an experience—one you’re not usually afforded in your roles.”

I paused. Excuse me? Must it?

In that moment, he had made an assumption. It wasn’t malicious—it may have even been meant as a kind acknowledgment—but it still struck a nerve with me. Because I often work in complementarian ministry settings, he presumed I must be longing for a space where my voice could finally be heard. He saw this boardroom as a sort of moment of liberation for me, as if for the first time I might be “valued”.

The Assumed Narrative

The problem was, his comment didn’t reflect my reality. And while I smiled and moved on, I felt a quiet frustration settle in my chest. Why did it bother me? Because I’ve heard this narrative so often: that women like me who serve in complementarian contexts must be lacking something. That we must feel sidelined or silenced, that our gifts must be restrained. And that deep down we must be waiting—hoping—for someone to notice us and give us a voice. But that hasn’t been my story.

Let me be clear: I fully acknowledge that this isn’t the case for everyone. I know there are women who have had painful silencing experiences among my tribe and their stories matter deeply. But I also believe we need to make space for a broader spectrum of experiences—including mine.

My Experience

In my journey, I have not felt overlooked. I have not felt muted. I have not felt less-than. On the contrary, I’ve felt heard, encouraged, trusted, and championed—not in spite of the settings I’ve worked in, but often because of them. And biblically speaking my experience should be the norm. It should be normal for men and women to partner in ministry, and for men to champion women where they have opportunity.

That’s why comments like the one I heard that day don’t feel liberating. They feel limiting. Ironically, in trying to give me a voice that colleague unintentionally spoke over my actual experience. He replaced my reality with a narrative he assumed I must fit into.

If you know me, you’ll know I’m not exactly a wallflower. I’ve been described as confident, warm, and driven. I’m passionate about Jesus and about people, and I don’t hesitate to step into opportunities when they arise. Over the years, I’ve worn many hats: I’ve been a minister’s kid, a youth leader, an AFES worker, a ministry wife, a psychologist, a chaplain, a lecturer, a manager, and a mum. In all these roles I’ve worked closely with men—many of whom held formal authority over me—and I can honestly say I’ve felt nothing but supported, respected, and championed.

Power in Partnership

In a culture that often equates power with position, I’ve come to see that real strength often lies in partnership. I’ve witnessed the beauty of shared mission: men and women working together, not as competitors but as teammates. I’ve seen what can happen when we recognise and value each other’s gifts. The results have been fruitful, life-giving, and far beyond what we could have accomplished alone.

I know it may sound unusual to say this in our current climate, but I want to name and honour the places and people who have made this possible.

Moore College, for example, a place that is often critiqued because of its complementarian stance, has consistently championed me. They saw my potential and gave me room to grow and lead. Moore has consistently created space for my leadership and growth. As a student wife in the early 2000s, a Moore theologian dedicated countless hours to mentoring my writing and editing process, investing deeply in developing my distinctive voice. Another faculty member, who has known me since my twenties has served as a steadfast, wise advocate and mentor, both in my time as a Moore College chaplain and now in other roles. And in my work through Moore’s Centre of Ministry Development the department head has provided fatherly kindness throughout my journey, offering consistent support at every stage.

And of course, there’s my husband Akos: my closest supporter, biggest cheerleader, and dearest friend. His imperfect yet steadfast love reminds me daily that authentic support doesn’t require perfection, only presence and commitment.

What Does Championing Women Look Like?

For anyone wondering what it really looks like to champion women, let me offer a few reflections. These men noticed my gifts. They paid attention. They named the good they saw in me and encouraged me to develop it. They also gave me their time. Not once, but often. They made space in their busy lives to walk alongside me. They listened with depth. They didn’t just hear my words, they helped me reflect, grow, and minister more effectively.

These men both affirmed my gifts and opened doors for me to step through. They advocated for opportunities. They used their influence to support me. They leveraged their own roles and relationships to champion mine. I know they also prayed for me, faithfully and regularly. And on top of it all, they befriended me. Genuinely, respectfully, as fellow workers in Christ—as equals.

That to me is what it means to truly champion women. Not with grand gestures or performative praise, but through steady faithful presence. Through shared purpose, humility, and mutual honour. Because when men and women work together, really together, we reflect something of the kingdom: a place where gifts are used not for status, but for service; where power is not hoarded but shared; and where all voices are not just heard but valued.