Two weeks ago Rachel Held Evans passed on to the other side. I have read some of her writing. It made me laugh. It made me think. I didn’t agree with a lot of her musings–I never “left” the church. But I also hadn’t viewed church through the lens of modern salvation, steeped in American culture and unsaid rules of belonging. I scampered around the edges of steepled buildings, an imposter, clutching onto my legalism for years. Church never indicated fullness to me, only a limping bride, frustratingly imperfect in her desire to serve God. In hindsight, I was never fully immersed in the church like she was, never gave church a chance to hurt me. Her struggle was not mine.
But I still, like Rachel, chucked my copy of Debi Pearl’s Created to Be His Helpmeet across the room when I read it, annoyed with its examination of biblical submission. As if my marriage (rocky at the time) would be preserved if I only called my husband at work to flirt with him. If my resumé only touted some clever acting skills, I could get him to take out the garbage for me. If I only knew my role as a woman, I wouldn’t be so hard to get along with.
It left a terrible taste in my mouth. It felt like a false assumption that all women are powerless, mute Barbies, dependent on men, reliant on sexual prowess, second-class citizens. Obviously, I read too intensely into the purpose of the book–the message was not an indictment on my failures as a wife. But it had me praying for wisdom in my own marriage, because I was a fraud if I thought I could save it with a few coy glances. I prayed for a way to articulate the full spectrum of womanhood in light of who God created women to be.
My own mother is no church lady, though she is the truest Christian I know. She works harder and complains less than anyone I’ve ever met. She isn’t a hugger or a talker. She never concerned herself with appearance, never crossed the entrance of a nail salon, never owned a hair dryer. She has been the primary example of womanhood in my life. It’s no wonder that for the longest time I thought Beth Moore was probably a huge Bible study fraud, with her hair, makeup, and aesthetic perfection. I cannot reckon the two ladies, and yet both are women. Both are followers of Christ. Who can define a woman, define her place at the table?
I think Rachel Held Evans understood this dilemma. She also wrestled through moral questions as they applied to her life. Our lives. She threw salt on meat. With her words she sprinkled the world around her. We need more of it. This is what draws people to the Lord–we crave truth, but sometimes we will only taste it when it’s been justly seasoned.
This makes me think on our modern times. It makes me think on gender equality in America, something RHE was passionate about. There is a good chance this will taste too salty for some readers, but I feel it’s worth the risk. Salt is a key ingredient (even in deliciously sweet things, like cupcakes and iced cinnamon rolls) and I will try to sprinkle judiciously.
To be honest, for a long time I thought things were unfair and unequal.
I used to read my way around some of the letters of Paul in the Bible because it felt too raw, the idea that women should be silent, covered, obedient. I read it with a hard, unbelieving heart, and it only ever felt like glass ceilings. Ceilings that I didn’t mind throwing rocks at.
But here is what I didn’t know, something that takes years of smoothing and turning over and over, like a rock tumbler in my skeptic mind: My Father knows what evil is, and he wants more than anything to protect me. I am precious to him, a daughter whose worth is above rubies.
In the beginning, the man needed a helper, and God created for him a perfect person for the job. This came as no surprise to God that Adam needed major help in the garden. He just waited for Adam to realize it first on his own. (This happens to be a marriage-saver tip: give your man the opportunity to notice.) Men and women complete each other. They are two sides to the same coin; they add dimension to the other. Together, they form the human race. As a woman, I have a special purpose. Though it will never be realized solely by my union with my husband, it is beautiful to tend to a living, breathing picture of wholeness in a broken world. The opportunity to partake in building life with other human beings is a priceless gift from God.
It is for my good that He wants a man to lead a house and shoulder my burdens (Eph. 5:22-24). Not because I can’t (all the single moms raise a hand), but because my husband needs to be strong, steady, courageous, and I ought not hinder him. God is more pro-equality than we humans can even hope to attain to, and he is doling out justice with complete, sovereign wisdom. Just as a pair of oxen is yoked together, we are to pull equal weight in a partnership. And yet, the man is tasked with the heavier order: to shield and protect his woman. He is to love her in a way that sacrifices his own life to serve her (Eph. 5:25). Actually this is terribly unequal, unfair, and dreamy. A woman who is loved in this way doesn’t mind being called a helpmeet. Chivalry, we call it. We swoon over it. At least, we used to.
Along those lines, it is for my good that I am called to be a teacher (Eph. 4:11) but not a teacher of men (1 Tim. 1:12). This actually elevates the woman’s position in society by relieving her of the burden of training men to be men. We want men to be real men, and yet we’d like to still be in charge. This gets labeled regularly as misogyny when it is possibly the kindest way to bear one another’s burdens. Women refraining from teaching men encourages men to step up and valiantly defend and prove themselves. Real men become men by learning from men. To this point, fathers aren’t throw-away authority figures–they are crucial in the development of future generations.
It is for my good that He requires modesty (1 Tim. 1:9). Not because I don’t have a body, but because I do, and it is worth paying attention to. However, if I am constantly drawing attention to my flesh, it overwhelms my voice, my heart, my mind, my soul–when all should merit proper attention. It doesn’t mean a life sentenced to turtlenecks and culottes and timid eye contact. Rather, the Lord raises the standard of respect to a level of purity that is unpretentious, attractive and lovely. It doesn’t invite dishonor; it secures it.
Do you see how corrupt we are in our old nature, how quickly we pervert God’s ways when they are for our good? We will bristle at every boundary because we doubt Him. Did God really say…? the serpent hissed in the ear of the first woman. Are we today guarding our hearts from the same old lie?
The modern feminist opposes herself when she holds her idea of liberation as superior to men. She is mixed up: she wants there to be no visible difference. Equal, but not different. If equality were the goal, she would play fair. She wouldn’t use her “different” body as a tool for fighting, or vulgar parades as an example of freedom. She wouldn’t oversimplify femininity by making it a sexual argument. She wouldn’t degrade womanhood by demanding something that is already hers and that no man will ever be able to take or replicate. She wouldn’t tape shut the mouths of other women by assuming her single-minded voice speaks for them all. She wouldn’t elevate her sexual rights above that of the unborn woman’s right to live outside the womb. She wouldn’t corrupt the beauty of sisterhood and brotherhood by raising her cause above all causes. She wouldn’t divide rather than unite.
It is bizarre. She wears a vagina cap on her head in an era where men and women are encouraged to challenge their sexuality. If feminism wins, then LGBTQ loses, because only one party can, in good faith, wear the hat. Modern feminism, in a sense, misrepresents freedom.
Examine this and consider: what other lies have we believed?
Oh friends, we have strayed too far from the Father. In Him there is no male or female, black or white. This is not the picture of a transgender Jesus or a She-God, no. This is a picture of our sin in light of the Holy One. He has created us as life-givers and we have scattered to the dark corners to wallow in rage, stir up hate, and mock His holy ways. We think it unfair that his creation is so flawed, when we were the ones who walked away from God.
They are three billion shades different, lovely, strong, resilient and true in the form of woman. Not one looks like anyone else, and God himself has stamped his creation with one word: good. He is satisfied in our differences, in all our colors, sizes, languages, cultures. Our varied interpretations of deep communication, nurturing motherhood, laser-focused determination, hospitality and beauty does not shame or embarrass Him. He created us: we belong to Him. He doesn’t despise our affection for babies, clean houses, or Monday night football. He doesn’t hate our attention to detail, our tender heart, our tough-love parenting, our need for quiet time. He doesn’t look at you and think, I wish she could be more like Adam. He adores you. Your resilience amazes Him. You fill Him with joy. You are enough.
There are many on this earth who do not have voices to cry out under the oppression they are facing. We are forgetting our privilege, parading around in pussy hats. This is a global disaster. We ought to be lifting these far-flung sisters up, elevating them in a time of need. Women who sit in tents in refugee camps, praying for relief. Women whose children are starving before their eyes. Women who are slaves, their bodies used by men and discarded as if they have no soul. Consider your power, my fellow women, to be alive in America, to have a voice and be able to use it. To serve, to listen, to speak, to change lives.
Jesus said, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” (John 7:38)
We will not throw gas on a fire of hate that rages out of control, no. We will douse it with living water.
We will fill up our salt shakers like our friend, Rachel.
We will season the world.
