Broken, yes. Brave, a little. Determined to be the daring woman By Cathie Ostapchuk

I often imagined myself as the daring woman in James Bond films, speeding down a breathtaking Mediterranean highway in an exotic sports car or gracefully navigating the ski slope in my stylish one-piece ski suit, hair flowing as I leaned into the curves. I was so confident that I would outpace everyone and "get the man" while doing it.

That was before I fell— and fell hard.

For someone who believed she was brave, I often found myself being the coward instead. I left much on the table regarding expressing my bold thoughts or taking decisive actions. I tried hard to emulate the bravery of others and spent years avoiding the exploration of what courage meant to me. I concealed myself behind an identity of performing for and pleasing others, gradually losing my voice and crafting excuses to remain hidden. There was a time when I struggled to reconcile who I was with who I wanted to become. So, I decided to give up. It’s only by God’s grace that I didn’t succeed.

As a young girl, I remember learning about biblical women in Sunday school—women whose lives seemed strange to me, including the young mother who placed her baby in a basket in the Nile River and the “ancient” woman who miraculously gave birth to her first child, older than my grandmother. Their lives didn’t seem brave or even real—just very peculiar. Sarah, Abraham’s wife, received occasional mentions from the pulpit, but only in the context of her relationship with her husband, the starring figure in receiving God’s covenant. I recalled more about the men whose stories dominated much of the Old Testament, like Noah, Moses, and Abraham. Women’s invisibility is an age-old problem. Biblical women lived entirely different lives in completely different times, creating a disconnect between their otherworldly experiences and my ordinary Canadian, middle-class, churchgoing life. They were merely mentioned in the Bible, not as key players. I believed their roles were intended to be minimized and hidden. Or so I thought.

Personally, I never envisioned myself in the story of Moses’ mother, who had to defy authority, weave a basket of surrender, place her cherished son inside it, and set it adrift in the Nile. I couldn’t relate her life to my own experiences and believed it must have been easier for her, as she thought everything would somehow work out. However, she didn’t know it would be okay. She had no idea where her bravery would take her. She didn’t know whether Moses would live or die. She certainly didn’t know that I would read her story and be inspired to take bold steps thousands of years later. Jochebed’s courage secured her a place in God’s grand narrative, contributing to the liberation of a people from slavery.

Biblical women were a blend of the holy and the harlot, the faithful and the failures, too “old” and too “naive”: mothers, wives, daughters-in-law, widows, and foreigners—often the least likely to be mentioned in God’s story. Yet, there they were, gracing the pages of both Testaments with tales resembling modern-day soap operas filled with drama, intrigue, truth and lies, deceit, despair, courage, and confidence.

I realized I hadn’t given these women enough credit.

I have often felt as if my back is against the wall. As a result, I made excuses for my lack of courage. My shift in thinking about my ability to take risks, speak up, shape my culture, and influence future generations stems from the inspiring stories of biblical women who have paved the way for my moments of bravery. I owe so much to them. I have failed numerous times by hiding behind a false identity and being a different person in the shadows than in the light.

Their lives have shown me that it is my character—not my context—that defines my choices.

I have been shaped by their obedience, compelled to enter areas of ministry I never thought possible for myself. I witness the power of God in their lives.

Although I spent the first half of my ministry and professional life in the arts—composing, conducting, and producing music—God surprised me by placing me at the heart of a narrative focused on women. Several years ago, I co-led a remarkable team of thirty women who hosted thousands at the then Air Canada Centre, where they gathered to find Jesus and be encouraged in their journey with Him. Every tribe and nation seemed to come together, and thousands were sent out to study the Bible and grow in their faith.

Nearly ten years ago, inspired by the stories of biblical women, I co-founded Gather Women, a national movement that connects women, equips leaders, and mobilizes the female church. I would never have chosen myself for either of these roles, but I know my path was paved by the courageous women who came before me.

Thanks to the testimonies of these remarkable women, I feel empowered to embrace my place, path, and purpose. Unlocking my power as a woman involves expressing how the Bible and my theology enable me to accept my true self. What I’ve encountered in Scripture has profoundly shaped my identity. I am allowing that identity to deeply influence how I live and navigate the world.

In the past, I often chose actions opposite to bravery. I have struggled to use my voice to proclaim the ezer kenegdo image-bearing warrior-like strength that God intended for women, beginning with Eve, especially when I realize that failing once does not mean there are no second chances.

I have wanted to silence the cry within me that has witnessed too much pain and suffering in the lives of women in my nation and beyond, out of fear of being labeled as one of “those” feminists. I stand for women. I stand for men. I advocate for the Body of Christ to come together in diverse unity, which should define the local church.

My dear friend, Dr. Pam MacRae, a professor at Moody Bible Institute, stated, "If a woman internalizes the message urging her to limit her voice and silences herself, it ultimately affects everyone. It is dangerous for anyone to feel as though they are living on the periphery when engaging in theological discussions and seeking to know God. If a woman feels silenced, she is also likely to develop a posture of learned helplessness and dependence."

When I fell hard, it was into a sea of self-doubt. When I rose again, it was because of the revelation that God was not only with me as a female leader but also with every woman who has walked this earth. Who am I to refrain from stepping into this cultural moment with my broken experiences, each visible yet healed by the golden thread of God’s supernatural purpose.

I am here for the now and the next generation of women in our nation and beyond. Broken, yes. Brave, a little. But I am determined that I will not be helpless, self-silenced, or diminished. I choose to be the daring woman, in a lineage of daring women. And I pray that for you as well.

By Cathie Ostapchuk from Gather Women