Rev Emma Walsh, an accredited Baptist minister in Northern NSW, was interviewed about her theology last week by the Pastors Liaison Committee of the Baptist Association of NSW and ACT. Rev Walsh was asked whether she supports the denomination’s position statement about marriage.
The position statement adopted by the Baptist Assembly reads: “Marriage is a covenant relationship ordained by God as a lifelong faithful union of one man and one woman. Sexual intimacy outside such a marriage relationship is incompatible with God’s intention for us as his people.”
A mechanism to remove churches and ministers who cannot accept the position statement on marriage was established in 2024. Two churches, Hamilton Baptist in Newcastle and Canberra Baptist, were removed from the association by a vote of the Baptist Assembly in May this year. Other churches are under discussion.
Emma Walsh’s release of her letter to the NSW/ACT Baptist Association reveals the network/denomination is actively removing ministers as well.
Walsh has given The Other Cheek permission to publish her letter of response.
Emma’s letter
Dear Pastors Liaison Committee, Affirmation Oversight Team and Assembly Council,
Only.
One word. Four letters.
A small word—yet for you, it seems to carry more weight than my faith, my calling, or my ongoing ministry.
It is this word—only—that has led me to write this letter and ultimately will result in me being stripped of my accreditation.
Not because I don’t believe that Jesus is the Son of God (I do).
Not because I’m not called by God into ministry (I am).
Not because I’m no longer actively involved in ministry (I continue to be).
Not even because I don’t believe that marriage between a man and a woman is biblical (I do).
But because I don’t believe it is the only form of biblical marriage.
I recognise I am part of a small minority within the Baptist Association of NSW and ACT who hold this view. Because of that, I have always been thoughtful about how, where, and with whom I share it. As an Accredited Minister, I understood myself to be in a covenanted relationship with the Association, and I have tried to honour that with respect and integrity.
That hasn’t always been easy—especially in Australia.
During my time in the UK, I had the privilege of serving in a Baptist Union where gender wasn’t an issue, and where conversations about sexuality were approached in a way that was respectful, theologically grounded, diverse, gracious, honest, mature—and distinctly Baptist.
As I considered what to say in my interview and now in this letter, I thought about naming how un-Baptist this process has felt. I considered pointing out its flaws and biases. I thought about highlighting the complete absence of theological conversation—and the presence of fear and arrogance, matched by a noticeable lack of love, humility, grace, and hope.
But the truth is, you’ve heard all those arguments before, from many voices, over a number of years. And little has changed.
So instead, I want to share something of my journey, and the cost that has come with it, including my accreditation being stripped because of my theological understanding regarding same sex marriage.
My ministry began in 1997, when I experienced a clear and undeniable call from God. That call has sustained me, especially in the moments when others have questioned whether I was really called, for example,
In 2001, I was told, “You’d be a great minister, if you were a man.”
Or in 2022, when I was intentionally and publicly snubbed by a Baptist minister at the regional ministers gathering. These are just two examples among many.
I’ve sat in church and heard that I am made in the image of God, that I should use my gifts to serve Him—only to be told, when I did, not like that.
Throughout my ministry, I’ve been told I am too much. Too loud. Too outspoken. Too honest. Too big, too big in personality, too big in physical size. I’ve even been told to lose weight so I could be taken seriously as a female minister.
In the early years, I tried to make myself smaller. Quieter. Less.
But it made no difference. I was still too much.
It was only in the UK that I saw for the first time that I was enough, that who I am, just as God created me, is 100% appropriate for ministry.
Now, back in Australia, I’m again being told I’m too much.
That my understanding of Scripture is too inclusive.
That my love is too big.
But this time, I will not change who God made me to be in order to fit in.
I will not make myself smaller to be more palatable.
I will not stay silent because my beliefs make others uncomfortable.
My journey regarding same-sex marriage began in 2008, when I marched in the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras as one of the 100 Revs, carrying a banner that apologised for how the Church had treated the LGBTQIA+ community. At that point, I didn’t know where I stood theologically, but I did know the Church had not been loving.
I also knew that, historically, the Church had deemed sinful nearly everyone who wasn’t white, male, married, able-bodied, or middle class. That left me asking:
If we’ve been wrong every other time, how can we be so sure we’re right this time?
That same year, I moved to England, where I had the freedom to explore theology more deeply.
There, denominational processes, conversations and decisions about sexuality were engaged with respectfully and honestly, drawing on a broad range of theological thought.
Since returning to Australia in 2018 and working in chaplaincy, I’ve sat with young people asking, “Why does God hate me?”, because of the cruel, hateful words shouted at them by Christians.
I’ve shared communion with same-sex couples who’ve been together over 40 years, whose faith is deep and enduring, but who’ve been shunned by the Church.
I’ve listened to countless stories of harm, exclusion, and shame from people in the rainbow community. Wonderful, queer and diverse young people, some from Christian families, spend time in our home, trying to reconcile our love for them and our Christian faith. One could only make sense of it by saying, “You’re real Christians—not Church Christians.”
I know of young people taking their own lives because they couldn’t reconcile their faith with who they believe God made them to be.
I’ve read the statistics. I know that Christian LGBTQIA+ young people are among the highest at risk of suicide.
And yet, as a Church, we say nothing.
We do nothing.
We don’t even name them when we talk about vulnerable people in Safe Church training.
Worse—we perpetuate harm.
Through years of prayer, study, biblical and theological reflection, and conversations with theologians far wiser than I am, I have come to the convictions I hold. And I cannot understand
why the Association would choose to ignore this rich theological diversity, to insist on only one interpretation, when that simply isn’t true.
Why is the Association so afraid to acknowledge the breadth of faithful biblical understanding that exists, and make it available for churches to explore?
When I first applied for accreditation in 2001, I was declined. Later, I was told, off the record, that the decision had been political, not personal.
When I applied again in 2004, I was asked, “What will you do if we say no again?”
I answered, “I’ll be devastated, but I’m called by God, not the Baptist Association, so I’ll continue doing ministry, and wait for you to catch up.”
When I was accredited in 2005, I chose Mark 10:27 for my bio: “With God, all things are possible.”
In my third accreditation interview, when transferring to the UK, I was asked, “Ministry has been a rollercoaster for you—what have you learnt?”
I replied: “That humans can be crap, but God is always faithful.”
And now, nearly three decades later, I find myself almost full circle—about to lose my accreditation, and again being told, unofficially, that the decision is political, not personal.
But just as before, I say again: my calling is from God not the Baptist Association, I will continue in ministry and wait for you to catch up.
While my accreditation is being taken from me, and there is significant grief associated with that loss, it has no bearing on my calling or the ways God will continue to use me, in ministry, in love,
in truth.
Because God is always faithful.
And with God, all things are still possible.
Peace,
Emma
Unfortunately Emma’s letter reads as though she is a victim. She is not. Many of us lay people commend the approach of the Baptist Association to deal in a direct way with ministers who practice, esoteric. Contra-biblical ministries. We want clear teaching and less grandstanding.
‘ And I cannot understand
why the Association would choose to ignore this rich theological diversity, to insist on only one interpretation, when that simply isn’t true.
Why is the Association so afraid to acknowledge the breadth of faithful biblical understanding that exists, and make it available for churches to explore?’
What if, rather than ignoring it, they’ve examined it and found it wanting? What if they’ve concluded it’s not true but rather a lie? What should they do then?
Noting this is about marriage celebration, there is a particular legal context here that is seemingly neglected. This particular Baptist association is a recognised denomination for the purposes of the Marriage Act in Australia, and any celebrant (a minister of religion of a recognised denomination under Subdivision A of Division 1 of Part IV) is obliged to use the particular rites or form of marriage ceremony recognised by the denomination. In this case the approved rite and its theological basis is intimately connected to being a recognised denomination, and this is clearly founded in their belief that marriage is a covenant between one woman and one man. I understand this theological understanding has never been changed.