edited by Hannah Faith

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review by Kohleun Adamson

I tend to avoid what are known in the writing world as spiritual autobiographies—the testimony one recounts of his or her journey with faith and God, usually complete with all the drunken raves and one-night stands that precede a “conversion” to Sunday school and morning devotions (stereotypically followed by “backsliding” then rededication). There’s just too much drama, and, honestly, that sort of faith narrative is intimidating to me as a woman who has led a rather quiet life in Christianity, and who has never smoked a cigarette, hit a singles bar, or done the “alter call” walk. Thus, reading Jesus Girls was refreshing, reminding me of my own experiences or those of friends—female and male alike—and it was also enjoyable and challenging. I recommend this book to those who feel disenchanted with Christianity, to those who are very comfortable in the church, and to anyone in between; there really is a something to learn for practically everyone.

Jesus Girls: True Stories of Growing Up Female and Evangelical, edited by Hannah Faith Notess, opens up to readers voices that do not fit the traditional story arc that takes us from debauchery to holiness. Notess makes it clear that this collection is about those who don’t have a “testimony”: “When I was growing up, the best testimonies came from ex-angry young men, ex-drug addicts, ex-fornicators, et cetera…. The implication, of course, was that if you didn’t have a testimony, you weren’t a Christian” (p. xi). With this in mind, Notess has compiled a diverse collection of women’s voices, giving an outlet to the stories of those who have grown up in Christian faith communities—individuals with poignant stories of faith, doubt, and strength. The authors are all female because, Notess points out, personal narrative is a way in which women, regardless of some churches’ regulations regarding “a woman’s place,” have been able to share spiritual and theological truths.

Structurally, Jesus Girls is divided by themes: community, worship, education, gender and sex, and story and identity. The essays centering on community are filled with narratives that are neither nice nor neat, but all hopeful. Some of the authors have even chosen to step away from their childhood faith communities and/or evangelical Christianity. In “Who Is My Mother, Who Are My Brothers?” Sara Zaru, whose father was an absent alcoholic and whose church experienced a split, writes this of church families: “Even in its most dysfunctional moments, a Christ-centered church family seems infinitely more right than a flailing biological one” (p. 11). Paula Carter, the author of “Open the Doors, See All the People,” has taken a different turn. She writes of still being close with her immediate family, but due to various factors “it is hard…even now to reconcile the expectations of church and being alive” (p. 21). Carter’s story, specifically, creates a space for those, like myself, who express their faith differently, and even have different beliefs, as adults than they did as children.

Throughout Jesus Girls, I found myself nodding soberly or laughing at the eccentricities of evangelical culture. Notess’ essay “Quick and Powerful” takes readers on a trip to AWANA, a club similar to Girl and Boy Scouts, but instead of earning badges for daring feats and practical survival skills, students are rewarded for memorizing large amounts of King James version Bible verses. Her humorous observations are spot-on with my own experiences from seven years of AWANA, but it’s her honest response to Bible-overload that makes Notess’ story more than merely amusingly true. She names something many Christians feel but think is too shameful to admit—a tenuous relationship with the Bible. Notess writes of the many mornings she spent reading through the Bible with highlighters and journals, only for the text to lose meaning and blur before her sleepy eyes. “If I was going to read the Bible in any meaningful way,” she concludes, “I had to give all those seeds I’d crammed into my mind a little time to grow…. I took a step back from it, just to see what would happen” (p. 87).

Essays in the chapter addressing gender and sexuality offer challenges to evangelical readers to look critically at the ways Christian girls are being raised to view their lives, purposes, and bodies. In “The Slope,” Shari MacDonald Strong reflects on the effects of common Christian teachings, a la Elisabeth Elliot, which prescribe passive femininity that is responsive and obedient to active masculinity, while simultaneously responsible for deflecting men’s sexual advances. In “Swimming Lessons” Victoria Moon describes how she finally gained freedom from the fear of water and her own body, both fears initiated by authoritative members of her faith community. And although Megan Kirschner’s “From Pro-Life to Pro-Forgiveness” has probably already sparked some controversy, I hope readers will consider the glimpse it gives into the fear and damaging shame many young women experience with unplanned pregnancies, and the forgiveness Kirschner receives from God.

Not all the Jesus Girls essays are remarkably philosophical or hard-hitting. For example, I wanted deeper reflection in Audrey Molina’s “God Wants Me for a Comedian.” I thought, What depth is there in finding acceptance in a faith community because people admire your bravery to give a comedy routine at winter retreat? But despite my own inclinations toward philosophical, complex writings, Molina’s articulate voice adds to the essence of this book’s message: we each have a story, and these stories interconnect; they may not be like Augustine’s or Paul’s, or Anne Lammot’s, which are compelling and convicting to some. Each word in our narratives is significant and powerful. God doesn’t need anyone to have had a recent drug problem to give grace. As Melanie Springer Mock writes in “Inventing a Testimony,” “…somehow we need to privilege an alternative story as well: a narrative not founded on climax, conflict, and change, but on God’s enduring mercy and love” (p. 179).