Anyone Can Cook

“You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul. What I say is true - anyone can cook... but only the fearless can be great.” Chef Gusteau

Ratatouille is one of my favorite Disney movies. I always assumed it was due to the cooking theme. I love to cook. I enjoy feeding people. And I am good at it. But now I realize it is more than just the cooking. It is the idea of succeeding in a world that tells you that you are different; that because of your race, gender, or ethnicity you cannot accomplish tasks for which you have been gifted. Ratatouille is the story of a rat who desires to be a chef. This is a story of a woman who desires to be in ministry.

I had two favorite stories as a young girl. The first, Amy Carmichael - a missionary to India. The second, a woman in the Bible named Deborah. I love the story of Deborah because it is my name. She was strong, confident, and decisive. The name Deborah, while meaning “bee” comes from the Hebrew root meaning “to speak” and speak she did. She was the voice of God to the people. It is not uncommon for the Word of God to enter the world through a woman. In fact, it is entirely logical considering the Incarnation. Why do we seem to struggle with it so much now?

In the 16th century theologian John Knox spoke out against the suitability of women (Queen Mary) in leadership and in so doing wrote of Deborah, “She was exempted from the common malediction given to women...and made prudent in counsel, strong in courage, happy in regiment, and blessed mother and deliverer to his people.” That does not quite seem the proper apologetic necessary to ban women from leadership. Essentially it means that God is sovereign. It means that if God sees fit, He is able to gift and call a woman into ministry if it suits His purposes regardless of the circumstances surrounding the cultural phenomenon. Based on the Biblical precedent set by Deborah’s story, it is not outside of God’s character to perform this function whether it is the norm or not if He so desires. Now the question becomes, “Does God desire that women lead?”

It would seem from my experience that there are women gifted to lead in ministry. They do not lead because there are either few to no opportunities to do so or they have been told that God does not allow it. Based on the aforementioned logic, God does allow women to lead even when it is not the social norm. It is not for us to speculate why He allows it, simply that He does allow it. For if we speculate in Deborah’s case as to why she was allowed to lead, then we must also speculate in the NT case of Paul’s prohibition for women leading. And since we cannot question one, then we should not question the other. It suffices to say, it is allowed. But if we were to speculate, an image comes to mind. 

The rat, Remy, in Ratatouille, watches outside the kitchen one evening after stumbling on Gusteau’s restaurant. He sees the newly hired garbage boy, Linguini, fumbling around the kitchen clumsily. Linguini knocks over the soup and spills some onto the floor. Quickly mopping up the mess, he turns to the soup and tries to replace ingredients in a frenzied hurry. Remy watches closely before panicking, “He’s ruining the soup!” Linguini was not a chef you see. He was not trained as a chef. He could not cook. Oh sure, he could scrounge up some hamburger helper perhaps, but he could not offer the 5 star fare customary at Gusteau’s restaurant. Linguini, as we find out later, is the son of the chef; by birthright the owner of the restaurant, but he could not cook. Some commentators are of the opinion that Paul’s words that women should not lead in ministry were a result of their inability to “cook”. Quite frankly, I do not blame him. I would not come to a five star restaurant and be happy leaving with a sloppy soup. If you do not know how to cook then you should not be cooking! Remy, however, can cook, but he is a rat. So, the question arises, “Can anyone cook?” And if anyone can cook, then is not everyone a cook? 

Luther argued so when he taught the priesthood of all believers. I do not imagine the issue of ministerial gifts exercised by all was in mind when he began. Luther’s emphasis was a matter of mediation. However, in so stating, the possibilities toward spiritual equality swung open. As theology developed and evangelicalism grew, the case solidified. Stanley Grenz writes that “the evangelical emphasis on the shared responsibility of all people of God for the work of the congregation leads quite naturally to an egalitarian view of the pastorate...the principle of the universal priesthood implies that the Spirit’s call of some to the pastorate arises fundamentally out of his call to all believers to be ministers of Christ.”

But there is an issue of representative character. This is the proposition that since Christ was male, then the leadership qualities for those aspiring to the priesthood/pastorate include maleness. As some have suggested, the leader representing Christ at the table cannot be female because a woman cannot fully represent God. Patrick Reardon invokes the imagery of iconography to further assist in the point and necessity of male priesthood. This calls into question the purpose of the Incarnation. Church Fathers assert that whatever the Son did not assume in the incarnation, he could not therein redeem. This is a little difficult to wrap the mind around so I will try and make it as simple as possible. Basically the plan of redemption involved Christ becoming like us in every way, yet without sin. If Christ did not fully identify with us then He could not redeem us. This has vast implications on Christ’s sacrifice for all of humanity to include women if we understand the Incarnation’s purpose to be dependent on his maleness as opposed to on his humanness. If the emphasis is placed on Christ’s maleness then he could not have redeemed women and we are still fallen. If Christ did redeem women then the Incarnation was about his assumption of human likeness and flesh irrespective of gender. Only in this manner could he have redeemed all humans. When we place soteriological value on Christ’s maleness then we negate his ability to represent all humans, male and female. Furthermore, God created man and woman in His image and if the salvific grace hinges on Christ’s maleness then he could not be fully God. But Christ is fully God, thereby making the assumption of human-likeness to be the prominent factor in the Incarnation. 

Now please do not assume that I am saying Christ was not male or that he was some sort of androgynous being. No. He was male. He was circumcised on the eighth day, for crying out loud. No one is doubting his manhood; it was historically and culturally necessary. But the implication of telling women that they cannot be “representative” of Christ because of gender has farther reaching effects. How can I then be Christ-like, bearing His image or representation to the world? I can never be Jesus to anyone. I am exempt. That would actually be a huge load off my mind. I am not sure how everyone else views Christ-likeness, but some days it can be the hardest part of existing. Being a Christian is not easy. And if it is, you are not doing it right.

Some will argue that ultimately women cannot be set apart for ministry because of the hierarchically structured Church. Men lead and women support and the church structure reflects the order of creation. I could actually buy into this one, because it sounds logical. However, there is a problem. A breakdown occurs when we acknowledge that not all men are priests and leaders in their churches. So if they are following or filling supportive functions or roles then are they filling the role of a woman? That seems rather absurd. This would mean that for a man to accept the authority of another man would be akin to homosexuality IF we are to base this function on gender and the created order. We cannot all be women in the congregation and all be men in the priesthood. The created order would dictate that men cannot lead men and women cannot lead women, because based on the created order only men can lead women and only women can support men. This is starting to look like one big chaotic episode of Hell’s Kitchen. The only logical setting in which to invoke the created order then lies in the relationship that exists between one man and one woman, not in the diversity of the Church where there are many men and many women. 

All the arguments aside, when we come down to the basics of the polarities, two truths remain. If I am called to the priesthood as a complementarian then I am extraordinary. If I am called to the priesthood as an egalitarian then I am ordinary. But in neither instance can I be construed as disobedient unless God has never and will never call a woman into leadership. But He has, and He does, therefore, I am either extraordinary or ordinary, but disobedient I am not. 

Anton Ego, a food critic, closes the script for Ratatouille with this quote, “In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto, ‘Anyone can cook.’ But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist; but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France.”

I did not go to seminary to become the world’s greatest chef. Half the time I do not even desire to be in the kitchen. I went to learn how to cook in order to serve those around me to the best of my ability. If the Spirit decides to endow me with gifts as the Chef de cuisine or the Sous chef then I am going to do just that - extraordinarily or ordinarily. But for now, I am just Anton Ego, I love great food and I know how to cook. 

Not Called To Be A Mother

My semester has all but finished. I have 2 finals to take on Monday and I am done until midsummer. I need the break. I am overwhelmed by the many roles I fill and hats I wear and I need rest. Today I trudged through a theology exam, willing myself to finish at whatever the cost. I wish it had been as simple as just sitting down and writing out my well researched answers to the questions posed. Had that been it, I could have finished in the matter of a few hours. But that’s not how it went down. 

I woke up at 6am and rolled over to find my three year old had snuck in my bed during the night. Normally I would have protested, but it was Saturday morning and I knew if I just stayed still he would continue to sleep. Thankful for the precious minutes of extra rest, I dozed off again. 8am. Heavenly. I needed that. My ten year old daughter heard us awake and joined the crew in the living room. Saturday mornings with my kids are my favorite. I only get one a month. They are with their father the other three weekends of the month. So Saturday breakfast is a big deal around here. Unfortunately, no one ever wants the same thing so meal preparation is a hubbub of activity as I labor away to satisfy each request.

I finally hunker down in my favorite reading chair with my laptop and coffee. Let the writing begin. I get about twenty minutes in only to hear loud fighting over who is going to watch what on TV. I settle the dispute with a movie they both enjoy. Twenty more minutes. Restless three year old refuses to sit still and insists he must stand front and center with his little nose only inches from the screen. More yelling. By the time I regain concentration on the task at hand it is yet another twenty minutes. Lunch approaches with sunny day demands for a visit to the park. Another hour. Is it naptime yet? Finally. A third of the way through the day and I feel completely unproductive. My patience is thin and my nerves are on edge. This is an easy day.

Today is Mother's Day; it's after midnight. Posts and articles are flying left and right on social media to celebrate the day. I see no reason why I should not contribute. I have a lot of thoughts rolling around in my head on the subject. I have read many articles and books that refer to motherhood as a calling. If this is so, it pains me to say, motherhood is not my calling. I have learned a great deal on my seminary journey about the notion of calling. Calling is not a role, a job, or a task we fulfill. It is an underlying theme that utilizes my God-given gifts and weaves its way through my life, permeating everything I do. A calling is “vocationally transportable,” as one of my professors states. It finds its way into everything I do. As I analyzed the many jobs and roles I have undertaken in life, I finally grasped a clear definition of my calling. It had nothing to do with children. My calling does, however, have a definite impact on how I mother. I am gifted at communication. I take complex concepts and translate them into simple applicable information for others to use. This characterized my job as a linguist. It was a large part of my role as a systems engineer and technical writer. It motivates me to inquire into deep theological matters to construct analogies and pictures, revealing God to others. It enables me to sit down with my three year old and have a conversation about salvation, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Spirit tailored to his level of understanding.

What shocked me the most was that this is the first I had heard of this definition of a calling. And yet it finally all made sense. Motherhood is not my calling and it never will be. Being a mother is a role I signed up for in life. But not all of us get to sign up for that role. Does that make our calling any less relevant? Absolutely not. Being a wife was not a calling; it was a position I was privileged to undertake. I had high hopes of keeping that job for life, but life is full of unfortunate twists and turns. (I am still not sure whether he left his job or I was fired from mine; probably a mixture of both.) The underlying security to which I hold is that the presence of Christ in my life has never been altered by the circumstances that surround me. I still have my calling. It is always there. It is always with me.

There are so many things wrong with referring to motherhood and wifedom as callings now that I think about it. What happens to mothers when their children leave home? Has her calling left her? What of the mother who loses her child? Do we say she has lost her calling in life? What of the widow? What of the wife who is abused, abandoned or discarded? Do we say they no longer have their calling? Or the young bride who discovers she is infertile? Was there never a calling to begin with? What an absurdity! I tire of hearing the words that being a wife and mother are a calling in life that prohibit a woman from accomplishing anything else. Do we say that fatherhood is a calling? Is being a husband a calling that negates all else? Of course not. These are roles we fulfill in the pursuit of our calling in service to God. A calling will infiltrate everything we do, whether they be jobs, roles, or simple tasks.

I love being a mother. It is one of the most joyful tasks I have undertaken in life. But there are days when I think to myself: God, this job is too difficult. I am not equipped to handle this. The demands are too high. The salary is too low. I am bored, tired, frustrated - you name it!  I persevere though. Because part of what it means to be called is to be faithful to the roles I have undertaken in life. I was not born a mother. I was not called to be a mother at my conversion, nor at my baptism, not even as I approached adulthood. And yet God had placed a calling on my life at a young age and while it lacked clear definition I knew it was there. Motherhood does not constitute my calling, but it provides me with an added opportunity to live that calling out in my everyday life. I am relieved to have discovered how the notion of calling fits into being a mother before the pressures of inadequacy threatened to overwhelm me. And so today on Mother's Day I will celebrate this role. More importantly I will celebrate the fact that God's calling is always with me, facilitating my ability to carry out this task of being mother. 

No Country For Women

      I do not recall the exact moment I became aware of women’s issues in Christianity. I believe it was my first month in Bible College at the age of nineteen. Most of my upbringing was permeated with images of my mother leading worship, giving vivid descriptions of prophetic images, and preaching from the pulpit. She was something else to behold. I remember her frazzled hours in study and research, gathering information in English and practicing her delivery in Portuguese. And then the final product; the woman could deliver. I cannot recollect ever knowing her to wonder about her calling or whether or not she should be performing certain tasks in ministry. At my young age I did not even notice the disapproving glances from some of our conservative missionary friends when we would discuss the nature of Pentecostal growth in South America. I was oblivious. 

Then there was college. I drove out to Southern California glowing with the prospects of my newly realized freedom. This was going to be great! I did not fully understand the idea of a calling, but I knew I was called to something. As I became familiar with my new school, the students, and Bible College life, awareness began to sink in. One of the whispered mottos amongst the young men was something to the effect of finding a wife before graduation. I felt sick to my stomach. Was that all there was to it? I was part of a pageant lineup to better accessorize the calling and ministry of one of my male peers? I was appalled. What of my gifts? What of my calling? My calling is not confined to roles, jobs, or tasks I may perform, but is a general integrative theme that weaves its way throughout my life. I ran. I ran straight to the Air Force recruiter’s office and enlisted for six years. Did I find the liberation I was seeking? To answer that we must attempt to understand what liberation and subjugation truly are and the tinges they adopt through the lens of varying cultures. 

The purpose of this study is to analyze the impact of evangelicalism on women within culture. It will compare the world’s major religions and secular cultural shifts to effectively gauge how women have fared globally in contrast to the evangelical movement. 

Islam 

Islam has three predominant views of women across the spectrum. The first view is the traditionalist view. The traditionalist believes that all women are inferior to any man. It is thought that women are happier and society is stronger when women obey men’s decisions in all aspects of life.The traditionalist holds to the notion that a woman can only become happy and fulfilled in her role as mother. Women are not capable of competing with men in the workforce because of inferior intellect and physical weakness.

The second view is the feminist view. The feminist favors complete secularization of Islamic societies and equal legal rights for women. The feminist views Islam as irreconcilable with women’s rights and believes the modernization of Islam to be a wasted effort that will only prolong the oppression of women.

The third view is the progressive. Progressives do not accept the ancient interpretations of the prophet Muhammad's words that argue for women as weak and inferior. Progressives have taken to understanding the sacred writings of the Qur’an in a contemporary light that is relevant to modern culture. They believe their interpretations to be as valid as those of any previous scholars. 

One of the predominant topics in Islam is polygyny. Speaking from a Christian perspective, Islam takes into account the fallen nature of man and his natural inclination towards infidelity, but instead of encouraging a higher standard, provides for this in the practice of polygyny. Traditionalists see western culture as irresponsible in their care for women as infidelity is unavoidable and leaves a girlfriend or mistress without provision. According to the traditionalist, the practice of polygyny does not allow for such immoral behavior and demands that a man be accountable for all women he potentially seeks out for sexual gratification. For most Muslim women, rejecting religion is not an option. They desire to find liberation, truth, and justice from within their own faith.

The progressive muslim woman believes the traditional interpretations of the Qur’an to be patriarchal and states the following: “For too long, men have defined for us what it is to be a woman, how to be a woman and then to use religion to confine us to these socially constructed limitations that reduce us to being the inferior half of the human race.” They are convinced that Islam in and of itself does not oppress women, but is instead influenced by cultural practices and values of a society that views women as inferior and subordinate to men.

Young Iranian girls who think themselves victims of a fundamentalist system frequently run away from home. They do not, however, run to freedom. Ninety percent of these young runaways end up captured and sold into prostitution. For them it is a lose/lose situation. They run from one dehumanizing practice into the arms of an even more abhorrent future. The message is to cover up or be completely uncovered. The women’s movement in Islam is rooted in cultural shifts towards feminism that characterized the 1970’s. Current female political figures in the Islam world find that forward thinking towards equality is grounds for continual and fatal threats against their lives and the lives of their families. 

Hinduism

In India the women’s movement accompanied colonization by the British Empire in the late 19th century. Pandita Ramabai is considered the mother of the women’s movement in India. Her motivation to improve social conditions for women is accredited to her conversion to Christianity in 1883. Ramabai rebelled against the exploitive nature of the Hindu religion.

       The Hindu and Muslim women in India began forming groups and societies as early as the 1860‘s. They would discuss the evils of the Purdah System and polygamy. The establishment of the Young Women’s Christian Association in India in the 1880‘s gave them the confidence they needed to speak out against injustice. A group called Rashtra Sevika Samiti (RSS) founded in 1936 took up the causes of fetus testing, infanticide, and the abortion of female infants considering these practices an extreme insult to women. They felt such practices were an overall attempt to thin out the Hindu population in the name of family planning.

The male population outnumbers the female population in all religious communities.  Hindu feminists consider the caste system to be the main cause of all societal ills against women to include domestic and societal abuse and female infanticide. They believe it to be an assault to woman’s character, piety and moral conduct. Most women attempting to maintain some semblance of Hindu culture cannot reconcile with women’s movements. There is little to no shift towards an interpretation that would allow both to coexist. In a recent work, Sheryl WuDunn tells the horrific stories of Dalit life in Indian slums. The injustices suffered in this culture are a matter of human rights and are not confined to women’s issues, yet women are leading the outcry as their husbands, brothers, and sons also suffer at the hands of the caste system.

Buddhism

Women in Buddhist influenced cultures are trapped in the dichotomous dynamics of the over-sexualized female and a complete denial of any beneficial sexual identity. The Buddhist view of women aligns with a patriarchal power structure reflecting the educated religious elite and leaves no room for sexual egalitarianism.  Buddhist texts represent the masculine as sacred and feminine as obscene and defective. The result for women is an association with their feminine identity as secular, powerless, profane and imperfect.

       Women took note of the destructive images that prevented their spiritual fulfillment and an exploration of feminism into Buddhism began in the 1930‘s prompted by I.B. Horner’s Women Under Primitive Buddhism. Horner pointed out the glorification of the role of prostitute and desirable traits frequently portrayed in Buddhist literature. In contrast, much was also written on the preference for sexual transcendence. The role of the mother in society was completely devalued. The dichotomy dictated that women’s sexuality must either be completely evil or nonexistent. As neither option is a reality, women’s power in society was virtually eliminated. Buddhism, not unlike some primitive thought in Christianity, viewed sexuality as a result of a fallen world, or as they phrase it, the “devolution of the cosmos.”

  With such transcendent knowledge, the soteriological path for women became the complete reversal of their sexuality and worldly desires and in some sects, their transformation and rebirth as male. Due to the intense emphasis in Buddhism on detachment from worldly senses, motherhood is resented and understood as an undesirable attachment and bond with this world. As with Islam and Hinduism, Buddhist texts portrayed the female sex as physically and mentally weak, defective, and more vulnerable to ignorance. Not uncommon to Christian antifeminist arguments, Buddhists claimed that “if women left the domestic sphere of activities, social institutions would collapse with the expected breakdown of the family.”

Judaism

Judaism follows much the same path as that of Christianity. Recent studies have shown evidence of prominent female rabbinic leadership from the 1st century BC into the 6th century AD. Brooten explores the existence of several inscriptions from this time period bearing the titles “head of synagogue,” “leader,” “elder,” “mother of the synagogue,” and “priestess.” In her thesis, Brooten attempts to discern whether or not the titles are honorific or functional. She finds no grounds for honorific titles during this time period and concludes that the titles were functional. Brooten concedes that such roles for women were an exception to the norm, not unlike the present in Judaism. 

Aside from Brooten’s study, it is the consensus of most feminist scholars that the voices of women were silenced during the Talmudic period and disregarded by the men shaping Jewish liturgy.The winds of change stirred the hearts of ten jewish women in 1972 and they crashed the Conservative Rabbinical Assembly with a list of demands towards equal rights for women. The list did not include full rabbinical instatement and focused on smaller participatory tasks such as prayer and teaching in the synagogue. Women continue to move forward in Judaism and have a strong legacy and rich heritage that supports their case for egalitarianism. Cultural advances have been made for the celebration of womanhood in areas previously conceived of as taboo, such as sexuality, menstruation, and birth. 

Catholicism

Catholicism follows along the same lines as much of Christianity throughout history. Women have been afforded highly influential roles within the church, but remain short of offices such as priest and bishop. Common perception has been that women are not called to such offices and lack a general understanding of what it means to be a member of the clergy in the Catholic Church. 

A case study was conducted in the 1970‘s on one hundred women who professed a calling to the priesthood. These women were organized into five groups. The first two groups exemplified great spiritual depth and understanding of the role of priest. The latter three groups opined more on what was wrong with the role. While seen as negative in this particular case study, such sentiments are not uncommon to a professed purpose by women in other arenas. Upon being interviewed, both Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin, contemporary women in conservative politics and professed evangelicals, answered that their start in politics was motivated out of a need to change the corruption they saw around them - a corruption they perceived as a result of a “good old boy’s” network. 

The Catholic women interviewed believed God made men and women as helpmates who complement each other. From their perspective the priesthood is intrinsically limited today because of its exclusivity of women and the absence of this intended partnership in ministry. When exploring the reasons behind the women’s aspirations to the priesthood, their reasons were not any different than that of their male counterparts to include both healthy and unhealthy reasons. The overall assessment was that most women who profess to have a call to the priesthood are spiritually, emotionally, and socially stable with the ability to discern a call to the priesthood. Of the women interviewed seventy seven percent were acting out of legitimate awareness of God’s voice and a calling on their lives.

The Reformation and Beyond

Methodists can be credited with much of what we know of feminism today. Many evangelical groups attempt to view feminism as apart from Christianity when in actuality, it is a product of Christianity. Two verses come to mind that may help set the stage for the historical scene that played out in the 18th and 19th centuries. The first is from Joel’s prophecy, “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. Even on the male and female servants in those days I will pour out my Spirit.” The second verse is from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

The Methodist movement began with John Wesley in the 1740’s. Wesley found great value in the counsel of both men and women. He endorsed women’s charitable works and their influential prowess in leading others to Christ through personal testimony and prayer. John Wesley was an entrepreneur of sorts who took the message of the gospel beyond the walls of the church into the open air. Wesley was truly a reformist and attempted to bring about change within the Anglican tradition. He remained an Anglican for the duration of his life even amidst the continual debates that challenged the status quo. 

Due to the open-air setting of Wesley’s approach, many women found themselves uninhibited by the walls of the establishment, priestly raiments, and hallowed pulpit. Moving within the parameters of Wesley’s admonitions of testimony and prayer, women found themselves afforded the opportunity to preach. Uncertain of her allowances and not wanting to violate any unspoken mandate, Sarah Crosby wrote in 1769 to Wesley inquiring of the appropriateness of her preaching. In response, Wesley wrote to Ms. Crosby cautioning her against the appearance of preaching and advising her in ways to circumvent the issue. Eventually Wesley fully endorsed women in the task of preaching on the grounds of what he termed an extraordinary call. 

The first half of the 19th century saw a continuation of women as lay ministers throughout western culture and in evangelical settings. Women traveled the country serving parishes and preaching at revivals. Women were instrumental in leading movements for the abolition of slavery and prison reform. Women were not concerned with equal rights, but with the calling they felt to preach the gospel. In 1861 the Methodist Episcopal Church (MEC) presented a vote for the laity rights of women. The vote failed by a narrow margin, but was ratified in 1868 when once again the vote came to the floor of the General Conference (GC). The unforeseen consequence of the vote was the appearance of five female delegates at the General Conference. Secular and Christian journalists alike covered the event, as it predated any suffrage movement. The women were removed from the GC, but not for long. In 1904 twenty four women took their rightful places as lay delegates to the GC. Opponents of the decision voiced a fear that women, making up two thirds of the church population, would take over. These fears were unfounded and women strove to work responsibly in cooperation with the men of the church.Women have always been considered the mainstays of the Church throughout history and have constituted a majority. Modern sociologists identify the same trend in the early centuries of the Church. 

Conclusion

In analyzing the trends between the roles and influence of women in the early church and in evangelical movements, the common denominator for advancement towards women’s rights seems to be the manifest presence and work of the Holy Spirit. Every documented “wave” of the Holy Spirit is closely followed by what we also term “waves” of feminism. The reformative nature of the evangelical movement was a ripe field for the beginnings of women’s rights. From the early stages of the Church, Christians have been known for their innovative solutions for the betterment of society. Care and compassion for one another is exemplary of our roots and continues to be characteristic of the spread of the gospel. Christianity has always been at the cutting edge of societal reform.

Secular society, however, tends to take what good the Church has accomplished through strong ethics and principles and twist it for evil purposes. We see this happen in the institution of welfare states that counter the good accomplished by the liberation of minorities. We see the good accomplished towards healthy work conditions and fair pay bent towards the greed and corruption that now characterize many of our labor unions. We see the same perversion in what the Church desired to be a Spirit led movement towards an equal view of men and women in giftings and standing before God. Secular culture led feminism into a dark extreme of oppression that stripped women of their divinely designed femininity, sexuality, and modesty. Evangelical Christianity maintains at large, that men and women are created equal and that our differences contain meaning and purpose. 

Much is written in popular evangelical circles that confuses the facts surrounding the move of feminism and is counterproductive to the good accomplished by the Church. Fear of growth threatens to take us back centuries to an oppressive age predating the Reformation. One popular evangelical pastor bashes the temperance movement as an attempt to "wussify" the Christian man and strip him of his freedom. His observations on the temperance movement are uninformed and poorly researched and do not take into account the post war era and depression that was leading the country swiftly towards passivity and alcoholism. The temperance movement, regardless of what poor theology may have emerged in conjunction with it, most likely saved the nation from a sure plummet into dependency. As we have seen time and time again, the ramifications of war on returning veterans are overwhelming and immobilizing. Healing and time are required before soldiers can effectively reintegrate into family and society. Rwanda is a modern example of a country recovering from genocide through the efforts of women, while men take the needed time to rediscover and reinvent vision. Rwandan women lament the depression their men have fallen into and the passivity to which they have succumbed. They would do anything to pull their once stoic warriors away from the bottle and back into the present realities of rebuilding a country. The post war contributions of women worldwide to replenish, nurture, rejuvenate and sustain cultures are infamous throughout history and our story of civil war is no different. The temperance movement was an endeavor to save our men from the same fate. 

There are many faults and injustices that can be found within Evangelical Christianity in regards to women’s rights. I think there is still a great deal of work to accomplish if we ever hope to arrive at a Biblical egalitarian view. My approach has changed drastically from those early college days. I no longer run from the challenge presented by views of inequality, hoping to find freedom in the secular world. Now I meet the confrontation with anticipation, hoping to change the minds of those who would view me as incompetent or inferior in spiritual giftedness. Feminism is not a product of secular culture; it is a global movement that, as so many global movements before, was conceived in the fertile soil of the gospel and will continue to grow until it has reached fruition. 

When it comes to equality, no place is “safe”. However, comparatively speaking, as we have analyzed the present state of the major religions of the world and culture in general, Evangelical Christianity is clearly the most protected yet simultaneously liberating environment for healthy growth towards an egalitarian view of women as we are created to be - distinct, yet equal. Carolyn Custis James notes it well, “Women don’t want to create a parallel universe in the church for women, but desire instead to be incorporated into the ministries and life of the body of Christ - to be part of a Blessed Alliance living out the gospel together with their brothers.”

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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Durrany, K.S. The Women’s Movement in Religious Communities in India. Cambridge Press: Kashmere Gate, Delhi. 2002. 
Ferder, Fran. Called to Break Bread?: A psychological investigation of 100 women who feel called to the priesthood in the Catholic Church. Quixote Center, Inc.: Mt. Rainer, MD. 1978.
Gifford, Carolyn De Swarte. The Debate in the Methodist Episcopal Church Over Laity Rights for Women. Garland Publishing, Inc.: New York, NY. 1987.
Gifford, Carolyn De Swarte. The Defense of Women’s Rights to Ordination in the Methodist Episcopal Church. Garland Publishing, Inc.: New York, NY. 1987.
Haddad, Yvonne Yazbeck & John L. Esposito. Daughters of Abraham: Feminist Thought in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. University Press of Florida: Gainesville, FL. 2001.
James, Carolyn Custis. Half the Church: Recapturing God’s Global Vision for Women. Zondervan: Grand Rapids, MI. 2010. 
Kristoff, Nicholas D. & Sheryl WuDunn. Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide. Vintage Books: New York. 2009.
Paul, Diana Y. Women in Buddhism: Images of the Feminine in Mahayana Tradition. Asian Humanities Press: Berkeley, CA. 1979.
Yuan, Margaret Speaker. Women in Islam. Greenhaven Press: Farmington Hills, MI. 2005.

Hide and Seek

Hide and Seek. Probably the oldest of children’s games. I recall feelings of anticipation, excitement, fear, joy while playing hide and seek as a child. The anticipation and excitement of being sought out and pursued, the fear and adrenaline rush of being stumbled upon. And joy. Joy as we laughed over hiding places and the giddiness of a spot well chosen. “I was there the whole time and you didn’t even see me!”

I watch my children play hide and seek now. I listen to their giggles and heavy breathing as they try to stay quiet and covert to no avail. What makes hide and seek so fun? I think it is the knowledge that we are finding new places, cultivating our ingenuity and creativity as we engage and interact with a fresh perspective.

When Naomi first learned to play hide and seek with me (she had no younger sibling then) she always chose the same places. I would have to feign ignorance and work my way to where she was hiding. In her mind, these were the places that were safe, comfortable and known to her. This is where she knew I would find her. She would get so frustrated when I was not in my usual hiding spot. But it was still fun, because she knew I was playing. I was still there...somewhere. I would hear her little voice, “Mommy, where are you?” I did not give in. This was part of the fun. There was something about her finding me in a new place that elicited squeals of delight. I loved the look of surprise on her face, her little arms wrapping around my neck as she would lunge at me in elated reprieve. We’d laugh. Each time she found me she learned something new.

Now Naomi plays hide and seek with her little brother Declan. I watch the same scenario play out. Declan does not know to choose new places. He is impatient. If you take too long to find him, he will call out, “Come find me,” giving away his location. Naomi has cultivated the art of concealment and quickly finds new and creative places to abscond. Now I hear Declan’s not so little voice, “Naomi, where are you?” He knows she is there. She has not left him. She is engaging with him in her nonresponse, daring him to find her in a new and exclusive place. And when he finds her he laughs saying, “Naomi, that was great! You’re a great hider!” 

God plays. God is creative. God is in the ordinary. God is in the new. I am accustomed to finding God in certain places. These are safe, comfortable, and known places to me. In my mind, this is where I will find God. This is where He is hiding. But there comes a time when I must stretch my creative genius and God lingers somewhere new. He waits for me to find Him, to seek Him out, to pursue Him. I go to the safe places first. I do not find Him. But He is there...somewhere. I call out, “God, where are you?” He does not answer. If He answers I no longer seek Him out; I fail to find Him somewhere new, somewhere unexpected that will bring forth my joy. We cease to play. 

There are times when I feel fear, wondering if God has truly left me and if I am not instead playing some pointless game alone. Words heard long ago echo across the centuries and allay my fears, “The Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.” I know in that moment that my anxiety is without merit. Whispers of apprehension reveal what I should have known all along - He is somewhere new. He desires to broaden my horizons, to see me grow, to see me increase in the knowledge of Him. It is God at play and I have been invited to join. When I find Him we will laugh. I will delight in His creativeness because He has engaged me and drawn me to Him, to a new place, a new perspective, a new experience. When you find yourself crying out to Him, “God, where are you?” and He does not answer, think on it as an invitation to play, an opportunity to engage the Creator in a unique and exclusive way. Seek Him out. He is there - somewhere.   

Cutters. The Lot of Us.

Running out of milk. It has to be the greatest nuisance. Especially when trying to nourish a growing boy who drinks a quart a day. Not to mention the annoyance of having to go out for more, because you always discover the need at the most inopportune time. Yesterday was no different than any other day. Why should it be? I stopped by my local Walgreens to grab another gallon. As I hurried towards the refrigerators in the back I happened to glance down an aisle at another customer perusing candy. She looked normal enough. Nothing terribly impressive. Nothing terribly fiendish. I took a double take at her shirt before realizing it was a tank top. Almost 70 degrees in Colorado in March practically demands the otherwise questionable fashion choice. But it wasn't the tank top that caught my eye. It was the shimmer of her arms laced with white stripes. From shoulder to wrist, not a single gap visible. At another time in life I might have seen such a thing and wondered with perplexity at the atrocity. But not today. All I thought as I barely broke stride was, huh - that's a lot of pain.

I know pain. I know it well. Pain leaves scars etched across our minds, our hearts, our souls. At times the wounds are so ghastly, so caustic that the only thought that crosses our blurred perception is how can I distract myself from this feeling. I recall laboring with my daughter. They say you don't remember the pain, but I do. I had a focal point on the far side of the room. Every time a contraction hit I would focus on that spot with amazing resilience. During one particularly painful contraction a family member entered the room and addressed me. I broke concentration. The next thing anyone remembers is a moan  in rapid escalation to blood curdling crescendo at who knows what or who - GET OUT!!! Needless to say, the place quickly vacated.

Pain causes us to cut. We cut. And we cut deep. We cut whatever we can get our hands on. I'm not much for cutting myself. Tried it once. Didn't like it. But I learned to cut in different ways. At first I learned to cut with actions. If you hurt me, I was going to take you out. But actions have consequences and I didn't always like those so I moved on.

I learned to cut with my tongue. I learned to cut  down others. If amidst my pain I could find another target on which to focus someone was getting cut. I knew I cut and it took a lot of self-control not to do it. I lashed hard with words. And I was good at it. The better I knew a person, the worse the damage. I knew the soft spots, the vulnerabilities, sensitivities. Vital organs were going to be slashed. But words carry consequences too. And so I learned to restrain those as well.

I graduated to the mother of all cutting. I learned to completely cut people off. You didn't get my revenge. You didn't get biting words. You got nothing. And nothing in this case is worse than something. I've been a parent for ten years now and I've learned that the worse thing you can do to a child is not punishment, or loud words. The worse thing that could happen is neglect and abandonment.  The complete withdrawal of all love. Because even amidst the beatings or verbal assaults, we still receive something. And while it may not seem like much it is all we know that is akin to love. But abandonment? There is no love in that. I learned to abandon. At one point I even abandoned food. I had no image complex. I did not think myself fat or ugly. I had no desire to lose weight. The emotional pain I felt was simply so great that the gnawing hunger pains in my stomach were a comfort and distraction.

We all have means of cutting. I run to dull the pain now. Functionally it's no different than cutting. I feel pain and I reach for my bag of endorphins masquerading as miles. As I briefly glanced at that young woman browsing for comfort food yesterday, I didn't think - oh how terrible. I thought - she's just like me. We're all more alike than we care to admit. We make faulty comparisons, placing degrees of severity on the outward manifestation when the internal struggle is just as damaging and ugly and often far more destructive. No one can see the internal struggle. No one can hear the cry for help.

I didn't write this as a cry for help. I'm not sure why I wrote it at all. I just couldn't seem to erase the image of those meticulously sketched arms from my mind. We all feel pain. It is the result of a fallen world. Consequentially, we all cut. One thing I have come to realize over the years is that no amount of cutting, whether physical, behavioral, verbal or any other sort can take away the pain. They are all mere substitutes until we encounter the One who bore it all. The One who was pierced for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. The One who will eventually erase all pain and sorrow from this world. It is a hope in Him that makes all pain bearable. Hope in the resurrected Christ is why we celebrate Easter, so I suppose it is appropriate that it happened to be Easter Sunday. I just didn't expect to be moved by a run to Walgreens.  

All that for a gallon of milk.

Space, Time, and Love

What is space-time? How is space-time? Why is space-time? The 'what' question is probably the simplest to answer. Space-time is the combination of the when and where of everything that happens. That happens... What happens? Everything happens. When 'when' and 'where' collide, space-time happens.

Time is a matter of relationship. We base our understanding of time on the relationship between sun, moon, and earth. The relationship of these three bodies within the space they were created are what constitute the passage of time. Days hinge on the orientation of the earth to the sun, and nights are dependent on the earth's orientation to the moon. We base time on this relationship. Outside of the relationship of bodies time cannot and does not exist. The beginning of all existence is founded on the relationship and interaction of bodies. As bodies cease to be, time ceases to be. We understand the idea of the end of time as the end of one or all of these heavenly bodies. Space factors into the equation because bodies require space to occupy and interact. So the nature of space-time is relational.

The 'how' of the matter gets a little more complex.   How do space and time meet? What mathematical phenomenon brings these two seemingly independent factors into complement? My premise? Love. Love actualizes and contextualizes time and space.

What?! Love is not mathematical. Or is it? We are always attempting to quantify love. In temporal terms we love more or we love less.

"I love you."
"I love you more."
"No, I love you more."

...continue ad nauseum...

We love some or not at all. In an infinite sense we speak of God's love as unfailing, eternal, perpetual. Love is quantifiable and so I argue that love is indeed mathematical. Love seems to function proportionally to the presence of time and space. We love and we devote time and space to individuals, increasing our availability in proportion to our love. We retract our love and time and space decrease. Or we simply redefine our love and the circumstances of our time and space must be redefined.

If this answers the 'how' of space-time then the question of 'why' exists. Why love? Why space-time? And if God is love, then is God also space-time? We speak of God in terms of His three persons as incomprehensible without each person. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are members of the Godhead and constitute who we understand to be God. As three persons in relationship, one God, there is a concept of time and space that is only His. If God is space and time what does His space and time have in common with ours? I think God is space and time just as He is love. But His space and time are a relational notion within His being. In other words God functions eternally in a space and time of His own existence that independently has nothing in common with ours.

So if God has nothing in common with our time and space then how can He possibly enter into it? Love. "For God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." God's love is what generated creation from nothing. His love opened space and time to accommodate creation. His love for that creation created a common space and time in which to infiltrate that creation with His Incarnation. It is love that fills voids and gives purpose to space and time that would otherwise be meaningless.

Love contextualizes space and time. God and the world do not have time and space in common, they have love in common which allows for the intersection of common time and space. God so loved the world, that time and space opened up to His occupation in the temporal. When we believe in him we are reciprocating love and entering into His eternal life in time and space. The infinite occupies the finite and in turn the finite partake of the infinite.

We are creatures made in His image. We are designed to exist within time and space with one another, which means we are meant to love one another. The proportion of our love designates the time and space we allot to the receiver of that love. We devote our time and space to the things we love. The things we love fill our time and space. When our love is disproportionate to time and space, voids exist. These voids are empty, cold, lonely - formless.

Be cautious with your love. Once you have given love, created time and space, it cannot be uncreated. It can only be abandoned, left formless and void. We are imperfect creatures, fallen. We cannot love perfectly and therefore voids will always exist. The only protection we have is intentionality. Do not love capriciously, flippantly, but freely and intentionally.

God is love. God loves infinitely. Therefore, He exists within an infinite time and space. God loves those in finite time and space, therefore He can exist within finite time and space.

For God so loved...and then there was Incarnation - the occupation of the infinite into finite time and space. For God so loves, that His Word is never void. For God so loves.

Leave Me Alone

I stared at the ceiling. It somehow mirrored my emotion. Blank. Empty. Devoid of life. Occasionally my eyes would flit to a small chartreuse vase overflowing with bright yellow flowers, then back to the ceiling again. They mocked me. I wanted to hurl the blossoms across the room, to hear the shattering of glass against the wall, to watch the flora scatter about the room and discolored water paint the walls. But I didn't have the energy, or the strength.

Mom came into the room. She was visiting from out of town. She flew in amidst the chaos and bustle of emergency rooms, doctors, and panicked family.

"Debbie. It's time to change bandages again."

We began the long and arduous trek up the stairs. 14 stairs. It might as well have been Mt. Everest. I couldn't climb them alone. And so I leaned on my small petite mother and let her support me one step at a time. It seemed like forever. She helped me onto the bed, laid me down gently and proceeded to minister to the task at hand. As the bandages pulled away from my grotesquely stitched abdomen I could almost feel the wound leaking its foul and death decaying liquid. My mind oozed venomous thoughts as everything in me wanted to scream out, LEAVE ME ALONE! My stomach muscles reflected the sentiment as they contracted and resented each touch. But she would not leave. She continued to brush away the filth. How desperately I needed her to perform that menial task. To attempt it alone would have strained the muscles beyond their capacity, torn open stitches and I would pour out, unattended. I needed her.

I sat in the aftermath of that disaster and thought to myself, "God, where are you? How can anything good come from this?" And I grieved. I grieved loss. I grieved death. I grieved a world where something as small and seemingly insignificant as a ruptured cyst can wipe out every trace of life within. I mourned a world where doctors used terms like "it" to describe a human life and D&Cs are every day procedures. I mourned a world where life is so frail and dreams die easily. How can anything good exist in a world like this?

That was slightly over four years ago. This week my son, Declan, turns three. And I ask myself again, "How could anything good come from all that?" I believe in the uniqueness of each life; the preciousness of personhood. Had I not experienced that tragedy four years ago, I would certainly have avoided a significant amount of pain, but I would not know Declan. A different child would be in my arms today. Each smile he gives me, every hug and kiss, his little arms squeezing tight around my neck, his bright blue inquisitive eyes, and his laughter - oh how I love his laughter - I would have none of that. I would not know him.

I have experienced many other facets of pain, grief, and loss over the years. Some days the pain is so great that I cannot even move. It immobilizes, incapacitates. And my body oozes from the wounds within until there are no tears left to cry. I cringe at the touch of others, rejecting their love and compassion. Everything inside me wants to scream out once again, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" But they do not. I do not have the energy or strength to send them away, and I let them minister to my pain. I need them.

There are times when the pain is so blinding, I even want to reject God, crying out, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" But He does not. His Spirit, ever-present with me, caresses my wounds as my mother once did, not removing, but comforting and soothing me through the healing process. Each touch hurts, twisting and contracting my innards, yet each touch is necessary. I need Him.

As I struggle through seasons of pain I am reminded of the wounds of that season. Again I find myself asking the same question, "How could anything good come of this?" And then I see Declan and I remember.  And I am comforted. I know that even though I cannot see in the moment, the fullness of life that comes out of our grief, someday it will be there. Someday the mourning will turn into dancing, the sorrow into joy. I look at my son and I think of all the joy he has brought me and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know, there will be good. There will be joy.

"...we were like those who dreamed. Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy... Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them." Psalm 126

Reflections of Summer

I cannot imagine a more perfect summer. I spent almost everyday at the pool with the kids. I got to spend several days with my entire family - the first time we've all been together in fourteen years! I felt the love of community, spent countless hours in deep conversations with friends, and most important of all - relaxed.

The summer kicked off with my brother's wedding. My new sister, Rene, did an absolutely fantastic job planning a most perfect day. The 50's theme portrayed exquisitely the class and beauty she embodies. And I might add, my brother's "bondesque" attire wasn't too shabby either. The setting in Palm Springs, CA contributed even more to the reminiscent theme of the past. I don't think I need to ever attend another wedding because it will just pale in comparison to that day. I have enjoyed watching the two of them interact with each other over the course of the last few months. One of my comments to my new sister was, "I love the way you love my brother." And I do.

It was a great way to begin the summer because I would say the overarching theme of my summer was 'love." By saying this I am not referring to the cheesy outdated, yes somewhat 'greasy' concept of summer loving, but an all new idea of love. For some this may not be a new idea, but for me it was. I have long struggled with the notion of Christ as lover. I have frequently scoffed at it in fact. Accepting God as Father was a journey for me that took several years. The Holy Spirit as Nurturer and Comforter took me many additional years to cultivate. Christ as Lover, I had never fully understood the importance of or embraced. But this summer, I began.

And it was a summer of love. He held me. He touched me. He spoke soft words of endearment to me. He showered me with gifts. He provided for me. He acknowledged me in name to the world. He called me His own. He praised me. He loved me. And it was sufficient. I cannot say I have ever felt that way about any lover. And I dare say, in this fallen world we are not meant to say such things about earthly lovers. They are simply a shadow of a greater and more perfect spiritual reality that is in Christ. We strive to be like Him, and that is good but we will always fall short. I think the most redemptive element of envisioning Christ as lover for me was the accompanying ability to forgive those who have fallen short of that ideal, who have not been what they ought to be, but have taken what they desired to take and left me unloved. I found that when my ideal resided in the earthly I could not see the misuse, but my heart would break just the same and I would never know or understand why.

The hardest part of the entire process was the very beginning. When God asked to redeem my ideal of lover I would not allow it. Plainly and simply, I did not trust the role and could not even trust God in that role. For me it meant nothing but taking and abandoning. I admit, He does take. His demands are sometimes so great and the pain of them almost intolerable and yet He gives and enables me to meet them. He never takes without giving. He never abandons.

The process is far from over. I imagine it will be several more years of wading through the intricacies of this role. I'm going to make a lot of mistakes along the way. I will at times lose my trust. I will be unfaithful. I will seek earthly ideals above the divine. But I take comfort that He will always come after me. He will pursue. He will bring me back into His arms and show me a love I do not deserve.

"Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. And there I will give her her vineyards and make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. And there she shall answer as in the days of her youth, as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt."And in that day, declares the LORD, you will call me 'My Husband,' and no longer will you call me 'My Baal.' For I will remove the names of the Baals from her mouth, and they shall be remembered by name no more...And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the LORD." Hosea 2:14-20.

How's that for some summer lovin'?

Pacifist or Machine Gun Preacher

I'm not one who usually recommends movies, let alone one that has an R rating and especially not one with a cheesy title like "Machine Gun Preacher." This movie, however, was an extremely eye opening piece of work based on the true story of Sam Childers and his passion for orphaned children in Uganda.

Recently a friend of mine has been working on a paper in defense of pacifism. The issue of just war has been on my mind a lot as I analyze his thoughts. The movie, Machine Gun Preacher depicted well the darkness that can infest a man's heart as he takes life even in an attempt to preserve life.

I am not a pacifist in practice, but I am a pacifist in theory. In other words I believe that the taking of life should always be a last resort and can only be justified as a means for the preservation of life and a greater good. But it comes at a cost. The cost is what must be weighed ultimately. In a perfect world there should be no violence. The human heart as created in Imago Dei should abhor violence and any manifestation thereof. Violence and war are a result of a fallen world. We hold great hope in God's plan for complete restoration to the beauty of His creation. We hope for a time when there will be no war and violence. At heart one's eschatological views should make all men pacifists.

There is great power that accompanies a person's calling to defend the defenseless, the innocent, the orphan or widow. When this defense calls for violence, a debatable demand, we risk becoming drunk with this power. We risk crossing a line where the hatred of those harming the ones we love overwhelms us to the point where we can no longer see them as Imago Dei and the taking of their lives no longer pricks our conscience. It is at this point where we have lost sight of the greater good.

As a former military member I have seen the repercussions of PTSD on many of my loved ones that comes as a result of seeing death and suffering and to an ever greater extent, in response to the taking of life. PTSD is a very real disorder that comes in direct proportion to the sensitivity of human conscience. There is an element of comfort that should accompany the presence of PTSD in that the conscience is not dead and is in fact reflecting a very real violation of life. Violence ought to disturb us and disturb us greatly.

There is much debate over the concept of a violent God in Scripture. A violent God there is nonetheless. But why? He exists because there is a desire for the preservation of life and more fully in the manifestation of His redemption through Christ for the extension of a fuller eternal life. One might credibly argue that the greatest act of violence in the history of mankind was at the foot of the cross, and yet without that violence there would be no eternal life. Evil is still present in our world thereby making violence and war sometimes a necessary means for the preservation and defense of life. But when we lose sight of God's ultimate accomplishment in Christ's work on the cross, we abandon the hope of a future where there will be no more suffering, no more violence, no more war. Pacifism should be at the heart and hope of every human.

Hospitality

My initial response to the word "hospitality" is, Dear God, please no. I have a lot of gifts, some more prominent than others. I would say that my most motivating gift is teaching; I absolutely love it. The research, the compiling of information, the organizing, and the writing - love it! In fact my love for it is so compelling that it causes me to fear any identity in other gifts. I want to converse with people, to engage with their intellect, to coax out ideas, to match minds. I don't want to be stuck in the kitchen! I think one of my greatest fears in ministry has been that I will walk into a place, they will see I am a woman and immediately stick me in the kitchen or in the nursery and my longing for cerebral intimacy will dissipate into loneliness and the monotony of screaming infants and clanging pots. Oh God, please no!

And so, I hide. I hide the gift. But it's not really possible to hide. Really. I find myself leaping inwardly at the opportunity to host events or feed people. And even then I feel shame for wanting that. I recall one evening a friend asked me why I made food for a gathering and I was afraid to say, "Because I love doing it." I found myself conjuring a list of excuses to spout off, detracting and derailing any attempt to trap me in that box. It's silly, I know.

I have discovered that my affinity for hospitality is not so distinct from my teaching gift; both involve feeding people. I am simply driven to give people what they need for sustenance and  growth. Teaching spiritually feeds the body of Christ, giving us nurture and goodness. The healthier we are as a body, the more united we are. We eat from the same plate and we drink from the same cup and we are one.

Food has a way of drawing people together into community and cohesion. One evening I made food for an event. I recall walking into the room carrying my plate of treats and what was a scattered room suddenly became a cluster of chatter and excitement circulating around food. The excitement wasn't over the food, but food was the venue for drawing together and uplifting those present. It is the same with our spiritual food and our expressions of that. Whether through the Eucharist or through the preaching of the Word, it is all food that draws us together and unites us in the body of Christ. And so I am convicted to more boldly use this gift to foster greater unity around me.

Several years ago a friend of mine identified compassion as his driving motivation in the expression of gifts. And he was saddened. Not because of anything internal but because of others' perceptions of his gift. He was told that his gift of compassion greatly incapacitated him in any kind of pastoral or leadership role. Translation: "You poor sap, what a girly gift to have." It was most unfortunate and greatly misguided. I would choose that man to sit through any pain, sorrow, or distress with me in life. Fortunately he disregarded that misconception and now serves as a hospital chaplain, walking friends and families through the pains and losses in life.

Stereotypes, whether of gender, culture, or race in the body can hamper us from the expression of our gifts and it is a key tool of the enemy to prevent us from serving and strengthening one another. Are there gifts you hide because you are afraid of how others will view your contribution? Are there cultural conventions that drive you into hiding the gifts God has blessed you with for the lifting up and edification of His body? Don't squander them. God gives them because they are needed. Use them boldly.

Dr. Who's Modern House of Bones Touch Alcatraz

I was upset when they killed off Neil Perry in Dead Poets Society and I am even more dismayed that producers feel the need to kill off Wilson in FOX's House. If I were Robert Leonard I'd wonder if people didn't enjoy killing off my characters. Talk about typecast. You can't kill off Wilson people! He's the only character that grounds the show. House is getting sent back to prison. Who cares?! The guy's an insane abuser, who makes a mockery of his oath to "preserve the purity of my life and my arts" and it's pathetic how endeared we are to him, myself included. Is that Hippocratic or hypocratic? I'm just a tad bit upset about this.

 

Evidently Bones is going to prison too. It must be the "in" thing right now to send your lead character to prison. Anyone else on FOX getting sent to prison this season? I'm proud of her for becoming a fugitive though. It's completely irrational and shows character growth. Hurray for character growth! I strive day in and day out to gain an inch of ground in character growth and here she pulls it off in one episode. I guess I just need to go to prison.

 

Kiefer's gone metro, which is kind of hot. I like a man who can dress. His acting is the annoying part in the new show, Touch. You would think after 9 years of raising an autistic child you would stop yelling his name every time the kid wanders off. He's not going to respond! Why are you yelling?! Nevertheless, yell he does - over and over and over again. Half the show is good ol' Kief running, out of breath, yelling after his son, who never responds. It's like 24 only not. I am mentally exhausted at the end of every episode. So, why do I watch it? Cryptology. Yeah, I know. Nerdy. But I love it. I overlook the poor directing in favor of puzzles and numbers. Who knows, maybe the plot will grow on me like Lost did. By the end of the show I was enamored with all the characters, poor acting and all. AND I got my number fix: 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42! So here's to hoping.

Speaking of Lost, Jorge Garcia has moved on to the new show, Alcatraz. It's pretty good. A bunch of prisoners from Alcatraz disappear in the 60's and time jump to the present. They were all reported dead at the time so there's no record of any of them in the system and they're running amok wreaking havoc in San Fransisco. Jorge is a subject matter expert on all things Alcatraz and gets drafted as part of the team to track down all the criminals. It's kind of like a Fringe meets CSI show. There's a little romance woven in. One of the "jumpers" was a doctor from the 60's dating a guard who did not make the jump. He waited all these years trying to find her and now they have been reunited. Only the decades of separation have resulted in a torturous tension as he is older and she has not aged a day. It kind of wrenches your heart, like Dr. Who and River Song. So far I like it and am looking forward to seeing how the plot will unfold.

 I started watching Modern Family. Don't judge me. A friend got me hooked. It's hilarious. And it makes me feel like my family is completely normal. So however delusional that may be, it is a comfort. I learn useful tidbits for child rearing as well. Take that Focus on the Family! In a recent episode, Mitchell and Cameron find out that Lily is a "runner." Oh how this resonates with me. Declan is a "runner." And there's no beating it out of them. On a family trip to Disneyland, they decide to put Lily on a kid leash (yes, I've done the same with Declan.) Apparently there is something socially unacceptable about tethering your child. I never knew... but I guess there is. Anyway, Grandpa Jay gets an idea and buys Lily a pair of princess heels to walk around in. He got the idea from his glamorous hobbling wife who was attempting to maneuver the amusement park in her 5 inch heels. So now Lily is perfectly content prancing around in her little heels and completely oblivious to the fact that she can't run. It's a great lesson. I plan on buying Declan his first pair of heels this week. I'll let you know how that works out for us. 

Hello Sweetie. Dr. Who? Uhm, yes. I must confess. Matt Smith was my first. I will never love another like I love him. I have spent time with Eccleston, and even came close to falling for Tenant, but no one can captivate me quite like Smith. The latest season ended with "The Wedding of River Song." Spoilers! No, not really. I'll leave the end a mystery for those who haven't seen it. If you have not dabbled in the Who, you need to. That is all there is to it. 


Well, that's pretty much all I have time to watch these days between school and full time mom. I've been flirting with the idea of watching Battlestar Galactica but the jury's still out. I dip my toe in the water with random episodes, but am still abstaining from a full on leap into the water. I'll catch up on other stuff when I get my Netflix back after graduation... in a year.