Learn more about a number of women who hold a place of significance in Methodist history.
Susanna Wesley
Susanna Wesley has often been reduced to “the mother of John and Charles,” as though raising two founders of Methodism was her only contribution—as if managing a household of nineteen children, leading devotional life, educating her children classically, and effectively pastoring portions of a parish during her husband’s absences was merely a side hobby. When Samuel Wesley was away, Susanna began holding Sunday evening gatherings in the rectory, reading sermons and leading prayer for crowds that reportedly outnumbered attendance at the local church. When Samuel objected, she essentially replied: (not a direct quote) if people are coming to hear the Gospel and grow in holiness, perhaps the problem is not the woman leading them. Her disciplined approach to faith, education, and spiritual accountability profoundly shaped Methodist practices of class meetings, discipleship, and intentional devotion. Long before Methodism debated whether women could lead spiritually, Susanna Wesley was already doing it—with enough competence that history has spent centuries trying to describe her leadership without quite calling it preaching.
Barbara Heck
If early American Methodism had a patron saint of “get it together,” it would be Barbara Heck. An Irish immigrant who landed in New York in the 1760s, she famously caught a group of Methodists playing cards, tossed the deck into the fire, and essentially said, “We did not cross an ocean for this nonsense.” Then she went further—tracking down Philip Embury and insisting he start preaching again, which led to the formation of one of the first Methodist societies in America. Heck didn’t need ordination to exercise authority; she wielded moral clarity and spiritual urgency like a seasoned bishop. In a church that would later spend centuries debating women’s roles, Heck was already organizing, correcting, and catalyzing revival. She empowered women not by asking permission, but by acting as if the Spirit’s call was sufficient—which, frankly, it was.
Jarena Lee
Jarena Lee did not wait for the Methodist Episcopal Church to figure out its stance on women preaching—she simply started preaching. Born in 1783, Lee experienced a powerful call to ministry but was initially denied authorization by Richard Allen. Her response? Persistence. One day, after hearing a sermon she felt missed the mark, she stood up and preached so compellingly that Allen publicly affirmed her call on the spot. From there, she traveled thousands of miles as an itinerant preacher, often facing racism and sexism with equal measure—and overcoming both with theological precision and spiritual authority. Lee’s ministry made it difficult for anyone to argue that women couldn’t preach when she was clearly doing it better than many of her male counterparts. She didn’t just open doors; she walked through them and left them swinging wide behind her.
Ida B. Wells
Ida B. Wells was not here for polite Christianity that ignored injustice. A journalist, educator, and relentless anti-lynching activist, Wells exposed the brutal realities of racial violence in America with a level of investigative rigor that made people deeply uncomfortable—which was precisely the point. Though not confined to Methodist structures, her work intersected with the broader Protestant world, including Methodism, constantly calling it to account. She challenged both the silence of white churches and the gender constraints placed on women reformers, proving that truth-telling was a spiritual discipline. Wells empowered women by modeling intellectual authority, moral courage, and an unwillingness to accept “that’s just how things are” as a theological argument. If the church preferred its prophets quieter, Wells made sure they at least had to say so out loud.
Frances Willard
Frances Willard took the Woman's Christian Temperance Union and turned it into one of the most formidable platforms for women’s leadership in the 19th century—essentially smuggling feminism into mainstream Protestantism under the banner of temperance. As president of the WCTU, she expanded its mission far beyond alcohol reform to include women’s suffrage, labor rights, and social justice, all while framing it in language the church could (mostly) tolerate. Willard was strategic: she understood that if women could organize “for the home,” they could also organize for the vote. While not without controversy—particularly her compromises around race in the South—her leadership undeniably created space for women to lead at scale in religious and public life. In short, she didn’t just break the glass ceiling; she organized a national convention beneath it and handed out hammers.
This content, written by Dr. Ashley Boggan, with research assistance by ChatGPT, was published May 14, 2026. Contact is Crystal Caviness.