Biblical Womanhood: Letting my own ideas get in the way of what scripture really says

For the longest time, the word "feminism" really irked me. What came to mind when I heard it said was the image of a crowd of man-hating millenials in masculine tee-shirts together with gray-haired, middle-aged women in pantsuits, all of whom rioting in favor of singleness, childlessness, and unprecedented salary increases. My view of feminism was in line with the stereotypical portrayal of "feminazis," and I judged the idea hard-core.

I thought (ignorantly) that my own commitment to "Christian womanhood" warranted that I be proudly averse towards feminist ideaologies on principle. Given that I wanted (still do) both marriage and children in the future, enjoyed spending time with the men in my family, and refused to cut my hair off, I declared myself "the opposite of feminist" and considered wearing only skirts for the rest of my life to prove that I was proud of being a female. Interestingly, this pharisaical wardrobe change was more about obstinance and less about scripture. In full disclosure, I never actually consulted the word about this whole femininity thing, merely accepting the misconstrued applications that I read online of 1 Corinthians 14:13, 1 Timothy 2:9,15, and 1 Peter 3:5 to name a few. 

#ModestIsHottest

With time, I devoted less thought to this issue (admittedly, there was less media coverage about it) and continued to peruse scripture on my own. What I came to notice though is that God's views about femininity have less to do with silence and more to do with strength. He cares less about my wardrobe and more about my heart, less about my political views and more about my servitude. Yes, the bible uses the words "gentle, submissive, and care-taking" in the same sentence as "women," but not so we can devote all our efforts toward being those things. Rather, God asks us to embrace those qualities that he integrated into His perfect design for women so that we can more fruitfully work toward His purposes. 

It quickly became clear to me that my own ideas about so-called "Christian womanhood" got in the way of understanding what God really thinks of me and what He asks me to be. As a woman, I am to be active instead of passive, humble instead of prideful, and biblical instead of political. I still don't call myself a "feminist" because I don't really understand the definition, and to be honest, I don't really care to know it. The feminism struggle is a wordly affair. We shouldn't be battling with policymakers and publicists about our "rights" and whatever. Titus 3:9 says "But avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless." Why? Because "our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ," a la Philippians 3:20.

Instead we should be focusing our efforts on being the people God calls us to be and furthering His kingdom - all while embracing the unique and special qualities He gave us. There are countless stories of gentle, submissive and care-taking women in the bible who are also strong leaders, passionate activists, wise mentors and even prophets. Yes, you read that correctly! Deborah, the fourth judge of Israel, was a dedicated wife, an influential hymn author, a powerful warrior, and a prophet with a key role in encouraging people to obey the Lord! (Read about how she drove a stake through the temple of a corrupt king in Judges 4.)

Holla

As I am learning more about who I am as a daughter of Christ and how that truth should be shaping my life, I find myself inspired by biblical heroes like Deborah. She was a musician, a counselor, mentor and advisor, a determined ruler, a prophet who inspired Godliness, and a fearless warrior. Through all of this, she was honorably named "The Mother of Israel," a title that suggests the strength and courage behind some of the unique roles that God gives us as women. 

I've learned quite a bit from Deborah this week, but the biggest lesson is that it's dangerous to blindly accept controversial ideaologies without having a firm grasp of the scripture that backs them up. Sometimes our preconceived notions about Christianity aren't biblical at all. The key example from this anecdote is the two different ways that the words "gentle, submissive, and care-taking" can be construed, demonstrating how both legalism and liberalism can pull us away from the the heart and purpose of God for our lives. Reading about (and being inspired by) Deborah has given new meaning to 2 Timothy 3:16-17 for me, showing how God can open our eyes and change our hearts through His word, the only caveat being that we have to actually read it. I think that's pretty awesome.

*Backtracking through the whole post, here is a list of some of the different qualities that God values in women:

This is not an "Easter Post"

A few weeks ago, my friend Hailey shared with me a really cool story called "The Rag Man." It's a poetic allegory in which a strong, young, smart man travels around a city advertising his rag cleaning service. The narrator quickly realizes that there is something unique about this "rag man" because when he replaces the wet, used handkerchief of a crying woman and the dirty, stained bandage of an injured man, he takes their burdens onto himself. The recipients are healthy and happy again, but the rag man is bleeding and brokenhearted in their place. The rag man is, of course, a symbol for Jesus and what He did for us on the cross.

I loved this story because it gave context to what sometimes seems like an abstract idea. "Sin" can be a strange word at times, especially in our American culture when religious beliefs are frowned upon in light of relativism. "The Rag Man" draws an analogy for how sin affects our souls like physical injuries affect our bodies, or how loss and sadness affect our emotional selves. Just as Jesus performed miracles during His life on earth, including the healing people's bodies, He also cleansed our souls and removed the dirt, blood, stains, pain, and suffering that result from our disobedience to God. He took it all onto himself -- all the anguish and terror, the hurt and heartache, everything that we deserve --  and He endured it in our place. It can be hard to think about, sometimes, what "hell" means: death as the wages for our sin. But thinking of it in terms of a bruised and bleeding laceration, being doubled over in pain, or the deepest sadness and loss I can imagine, multiplied by ten, gives an interesting perspective into the significance of Christ's death on the cross. It hurt for Him just as it would for us. There were two key differences, though: One, He didn't deserve any of it. Two, He then rose from the dead, conquering sin and removing the power of the grave.

It might seem like I'm doing this whole "Easter Blogpost" a day late (and a dollar short) but I wouldn't say this is merely an "Easter Post." See, what Christ did on the cross changed everything about life. It changed life for the Jews back in year 33 of Jesus's time on earth, and it changed my life in 2011 when His death became real for me. What happened on the first Easter -- that fateful "third day" -- wasn't limited to an annual celebration. Christ's resurrection marked the beginning of His reign as the ruler of the universe. The fact that He rose from the dead is what defines Christianity, and should be the single most influential factor in the life of every Christian (and really every person) today. When Christ died, He paid the price for our sins. But when He rose again, He transcended humanness and displayed His glory as the one who conquered death. Christ began His ministry as king on the first Easter, and that is what gives us hope every year on (and after) Easter today. As Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15:19, "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied." Christ's teachings for life help us to live in a way that is pleasing to the Lord, but it is only in His death and resurrection that the struggle of our time on earth becomes significant in the context of eternity. By returning from the dead, He broke the power of sin and subsequent death. That, friends, is why we have hope - and not just for Easter Sunday. In Christ's resurrection, we have hope for every single day of our lives.

Casting Lots (and what I learned from it)

Are you good at decision making? I'm sure not. I'm an over-analyzer, and I'm terrified of making the "wrong choice." The fear is paralyzing, and I just swing back and forth on a pendulum as my deadlines approach. Usually a decision is made after a brief bout of panic, and then I finally sign my name and the decision is made. I then can breathe again...at least until the next decision comes around.

I've been in a long and difficult period of waiting this year, wondering what God's plan is for my life, wondering if I'll get into certain graduate programs, wondering whether I even want to get into said graduate programs. As a horrible decision maker, I never really know what I actually want, which is why I sometimes over-spiritualize my decisions. On one hand I wonder if, since a door has opened, it means that the path is too easy, that God expects me to give more of myself, and to show I'm really committed by choosing the harder path. Alternatively, if a door is closed, I wonder if it maybe wasn't closed for good, and I should look for another way to go down that route. But, then again, maybe it was closed because God has something else in mind. I've blogged about these decisions before, which only goes to show how long this has been a struggle for me. 

Today, after deliberating again (multiple times) with my sister and my bible, I decided to take a new approach: casting lots. [Try not to judge me yet! I can explain!]

In Joshua 18, God had already instructed Joshua to divvy up the land among the seven tribes. In 18:8, he tells the tribes, "Go and make a survey of the land and write a description of it, then return to me, and I will cast lots for you here at Shiloh in the presence of the Lord." The people obey and write up the descriptions, Joshua casts the lots, and the land is divided accordingly. My study bible mentioned that there are a number of ways these "lots" could have been cast. But ultimately, no matter the methodology, casting lots removed the human choice from the decision-making process and allowed God to make matches as He saw fit. In my human brain, that sounded like kind of a haphazard, illogical, statistically unsound way of making decisions. So, I tried it.

I wrote up seven different "options" that I'm considering for my future, many of which are out of my control. I folded up my papers, prayed, shook my hands, and threw the pieces into the air. I closed my eyes, grabbed at one, and held it in my palm. My heart was beating fast.

Was this going to be God's answer to my prayers? Is this His plan for my life? Is this legit?

I prayed again, hands trembling, before opening the paper. I was nervous and unsure as I read it. I took a breath. What was I doing? I folded up the paper, threw it back in the pile, mixed up the papers again and picked again. I got the same answer a second time. 

Weird.

That's when I started thinking. Do I believe that God coordinated which answer I chose (twice)? I don't know. Maybe. Will God strike me down if I choose something else besides the lot I was cast? Probably not. What I do know is that casting lots is biblical, no matter how unscientific it seems. More importantly, the piece of paper I chose from the pile probably doesn't matter that much. Casting lots, I've realized, is less about the actual assignments and more about the fact that God is in control of it all. No matter what we choose - no matter what route we take - God has already determined it. He has already written our lives, and there's freedom in that. Casting lots isn't about the decision, it's about the trust. Trusting God with our lives, taking our human desires and "5-year-plans" out of the mix, submitting ourselves to His purposes: that's faith. Today, I cast lots. Like my sister says, "Just pick something." What I choose really isn't as important as whether or not I allow God to use it. We all have a lifelong ministry, and whether we are accepted to graduate school or not, whether we get our dream jobs or not, whether our life goes the way we thought or not, probably doesn't matter. His plan for us is good, and good things take time.God's plan is less about us and more about him. So, even if you don't cast lots, cast lets. Let God be in control of your life. It's like the proverbial saying, "Let go and let God." 

I'm trying, folks. So pray for me, will you?

*If you're in a similar situation, shoot me a Facebook message or leave a comment. I'll pray for you, too.

The Painted Pinkie

I'm not very good about caring for my fingernails. Even after I managed to quite biting my nails in eighth grade, I never made a priority to take care of them. I periodically am inspired to throw on a coat of cheap polish here and there, but I've never been one to keep up with overgrown cuticles, less a few trips to the salon for prom and weddings. I've also noticed that guitar-playing isn't so great for the maintenance of freshly manicured nails.

On mission trips, a fun way to engage with kids and other women is to offer to paint their nails. It's a wordless way of saying, "It doesn't matter how dirty you are, I still think you're beautiful and worthy, and I want to serve you." It's almost akin to modern-day feet washing. Last week in Nicaragua, my team and I were planning to paint our friend Nubia's nails for her when Humberto joined the conversation. He proudly showed us his chipped coat of paint on his fifth finger. "It's for good luck and happiness," he said, adding that he'd had a colorful pinkie for 5 months. We laughed and added a fresh layer of blue polish over the green he had. Ervin thought it was cool too, so we painted his nail as well.

In the states, I'd seen quite a few people keep an accent color on a single finger, but never thought much of it. I always figured it was just a trend (it was) and never felt compelled to do it myself. But yesterday when I was finally scraping the dirt and sand out from under my nails, reflecting on the mission work that had turned them brittle and yellow, I remembered Humberto's painted pinkie. It was his own special form of meditation every day, reminding himself to think positively and to look for luck. It's an interesting concept, but not a new one. Tattoos, jewelry and even clothing can all be similar symbols, reminding us of something important. I don't wear a wedding ring, but I have bracelets that remind me to keep my focus on God, such as the one in the following picture with Jeremiah 29:11 inscribed in it. 

After my conversation with Alberto last Tuesday, my teammates and I started another discussion about tattoos. Kyla mentioned that someone she looks up to a lot draws an X on his wrist every day to remind himself to "seek first the kingdom." We noted that the daily action of drawing the X was a unique and meaningful alternative to getting a tattoo, because it requires intentionality. Tattoos are maybe less effective at reminding the wearer of the cause because it's so easy to get used to them, and they almost don't even phase us after a while. My tattoo is like that sometimes, especially because it's in such an inconspicuous location. 

So, yesterday after cleaning and clipping my nails, I decided to follow Humberto's example and painted my pinkie a different color than the rest of my fingers. My purpose wasn't for luck or happiness, but rather to remember the important lessons that God taught me while in Nicaragua, some of which I haven't even realized yet. These next couple weeks will be a roller coaster of emotions, as I know I will be going through periods of both joyful remembrance as well as brokenhearted-ness, and God will be instructing and shaping me as I reflect. My hope is that the accent on my pinkie will remind me to be praying for my brothers and sisters in Nicaragua, my teammates in the US, and for the strength to submit my life to the Lord. As it chips, I'll add a fresh coat, being intentional about this lifelong journey as a missionary both here at home as well as abroad.

What I Learned: the overarching theme of my week in Nicaragua (2016)

I'm back. Home. We did it. We built a house. It feels pretty good. 

Yet, somehow, all I can think about is the people. My teammates. My workmates. The Fuller Center Crew. Cristina's family. Jesus. 

Our first day in Las Penitas, before we started working. 

Coming into this trip, I had a lot of fear. It was strange and unprecedented. Unexpected. Anxiety comes from the weirdest places, and it kept me awake all night before we left for Nicaragua. Why? I am almost ashamed to admit that I was scared of the people. I was scared of traveling with a group of people I didn't know. What will they think of me? I was scared to meet the family we would be building for. How will we communicate? I was scared to work in Nicaragua. What is the perception of "white people" in Las Penitas? The Holy Spirit brought 2 Timothy 1:7 to my mind that night at 3:30 am: "But God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind." During this trip, the truth of the Lord broke my chains and left me empty of my defenses, then covered me with grace and strength, building relationships where walls once stood. He conquered my fearful spirit by being faithful in His promises. I'm walking away from a week in one of the poorest places in the world, feeling like the richest girl alive because I have had the opportunity to serve a loving, just and merciful God who died for me, who renews my strength day by day, and who is continually shaping me into the woman He designed. He wrote me into His story, and it is such a blessing. 

This picture speaks the thousands of words that I can't. It shows the love among us that turned strangers into family. I am awed by the humble and hardworking spirit of our trip leader, Hailey D; Kyla's maturity and commitment to the Lord; the wise stewarding of gifts by Curt along with his fearlessness; Nicole's gentleness, complemented by her unrelenting pursuit of God's purposes in any and every situation; Halie B's mothering instinct, incessant preoccupation with the broken, and desire to proclaim God's redeeming power. I laughed with 'Berto and Benito about my broken Spanish language skills and marveled after their perseverance. Santos patiently helped us with our translations, led us throughout the building process, and always greeted us with a smile. Danilo organized everything we could have needed or wanted; Nubia selflessly washed our dirty, ragged clothing after long, sweaty days in the sun; Ervin and his cousin Norman laughed with us and showed us what it means to sacrifice leisure for the benefit of others. I am so grateful for the group of people in the picture above. It was an honor to serve God with them, and we now share a special connection and the unique commonality of having labored together for our Lord: a fruit that will keep on giving. 

Overall, I experienced God in a new way on this trip through relationality. In the past, I've had discipleship/mentoring relationships, but there is something different about altogether giving of ourselves as a group. We were united as a body this week by our shared love for God and the progression of our shared experiences. Each one of us came from a different background and most of us are now at home in Christ's church, though we are still waiting on God's intervention for a few. But nonetheless, a new meaning was given to Jesus's proclamation that the poor are blessed, and that they are our brothers and sisters. We all are God's beloved, and it's so beautiful to choose to allow grace to reign despite our own inadequacies, living in the freedom of Christ. The church is the bride of Jesus, and He is our leader, our role model and our savior. He is what gives us unity, and it is incredible to deliberately leave the comfortable Christian bubble to be found among the lost. I can't wait to see God continue to work in and through this amazing group of people, and I'm so grateful to have had the opportunity to know them for eternity. 

Breaking bread. It's the best!

Done

It's hard to believe that the trip is over, the work is done, and that we will be coming home tomorrow. The past few days were a whirlwind as we jumped into building and fell into a routine. The first few days seemed to take three times as long whereas yesterday and today flew by. I can't believe that what was once a parcel of dry dirt is now a home, brick and mortar, two windows and two doors. It's an amazing feeling of accomplishment to look at the house and know that we built it, but even more joyful to see Cristina, who now has a home of her very own. 

This is a picture of the house in progress (yesterday). Today it has four walls and a roof. When we left the worksite, half of the concrete floor was left to be poured but it was otherwise complete, porch and all. 

It's amazing to see how God used the six of us in so many different ways. My team members are giving, selfless, encouraging and inspirational workers who labor after the Lord's purposes. Even when we were tired, dirty and drained of all we had to offer, there was hardly any complaining. God showed me His glory through these humble women and men, and I have been stretched and strengthened likewise. It is such an amazing answer to prayer.

Yesterday afternoon my teammates and I were praying for opportunities to share our faith with the people we were with. This was a huge request, given the massive language barriers between us. Yet in broken Spanish, we learned that Alberto met Jesus while imprisoned in America for a crime he didn't commit, Nubia and her family are Christ followers who wake up daily with a song on their lips, and we were able to share our love and joy with and without words. I also had the opportunity to talk with Benito about his spiritual life, which is pretty limited. Like me, He went to a Catholic church occasionally as a child but never learned anything worthwhile or felt connected. We both ultimately gave up on God after experiencing hard things in life, and struggled to reconcile painful circumstances with a supposedly all-loving God. I was then able to follow up somewhat by sharing how that perspective changed for me when I went to church with my sister as a teen, heard the gospel for the first time, and realized the true meaning of life. My prayer is that one day Benito will experience the same life change. 

Overall, I continue to be blown away by the similarities between myself and the people we are with. I am finding culture to be meaningless in a way, because we are all united in our humanity - both the good and bad aspects. This truth paints a picture of Christ as well, who experienced life as a human and knew all the temptations we face. Black, brown or white, old or young, irrespective of native language, we all are human. We are known and loved by the creator of the universe, and He is writing a story in which we all have a place. I am so thankful that Jesus knows me personally, and that I can lean into him for strength in situations he has already walked through. What a relief! 

Covered in dirt, but having fun!

I'm so excited to come home and continue to process what I've learned this past week. Before we do, though, we will have the opportunity to serve dinner tomorrow night to all the engineers and Fuller Center leaders who helped us, as well as the family we built for. Please pray for meaningful conversations, safety, and a fun night of fellowship! 

 

 

Contrast

One of the things I've noticed here that has totally floored me is the contrast in wealth within a small area. The hostel we are staying at is really nice. There is a beautiful beach just across the street and we are staying in an area where a lot of wealthy people have their beach homes. Yet, 5 minutes down the street where we have been working is completely overcome by poverty. The dirt roads are littered with trash and dead animals, the houses are built out of old pieces of metal scaffolding, and the barbed wire is pulled to the ground, causing more harm than protection. It's hard to comprehend how so much need and so much excess can exist so near to each other. 

This is a picture of the pool inside our absolutely gorgeous hotel. The paint is fresh, there are colorful hammocks hanging under grass huts, and the paved walkways are lined with palms. And yet, here is a picture of the conditions under which most of the people in the villiage live:

It's such a culture shock. I saw houses similar to that one the last time I was in Nicaragua, but I personally haven't come across them ever in America. It's like I live in a bubble, and always think of the poor as just that: "the poor." People assigned to a name. That's what they are: Poor. Okay. Move on. 

It's such an unfortunate attitude to have, because the wealth of love, soul and personality that these people have is indescribable. They are just as human and vivacious and alive as myself, just as sentimental, just as experiential, just as intellectual, comical and in need of love. Despite not being different from us, it's so easy to categorize them and ignore them. They're "the poor." Period. How can we be okay with ending the sentence there? There has to be more to the story!

During our devotional time today, we talked about Mark 1:40-44 when Jesus layed His hands on the leper to heal him.  I'd heard the story before but I'd never contemplated the fact that Jesus didn't actually need to physically use touch for healing. He can command the world with the power of His words...or probably even without them as well. Yet, He chose to use physical touch, connecting on a human level, to communicate His love. I feel like our fear of touch, of connection, of being on the same level as the poor, prevents us from reaching out to them. Whether it's a woman on a street corner, a forgotten elderly man in a nursing home, or a family in Nicaragua, they need  human relationality. Most importantly, they need the love of Jesus. I'm horrified sometimes that I can fall into such cold heartedness, especially considering all that Jesus has done for me. I'm a wretched sinner myself, still distracted by temptation, and yet Jesus continues to keep me from the death that I deserve. There are people both here in Nicaragua and home in the USA who are the walking dead. Their wages are death but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ. Keeping that good news to myself would be, and is, terribly selfish. (Romans 6:23)

 At least we're making progress. 😝