Chewymom

I had the pleasure of getting together with some of my awesome friends from Atlanta recently, and as we chatted the topic turned to a family we all knew–one I have had no contact with since we left Atlanta six-plus years ago. This family has three children–two girls and a boy–who are probably around the ages of 13, 11, and 9. The parents are extremely well-educated and intellectual. Years ago, when we knew them fairly well, they had shared with us their standards for their family.

The girls took (and I believe still do take) ballet lessons. They listen to only classical music in their home. And by only classical, I really mean that. No praise music, etc. They changed churches because they wanted one more in-line with their views on high culture. Their son (the youngest at about age nine) still has room time (an Ezzo-practice) where he listens to classical music while he plays with his army men.

Even though they have a teenager and a pre-teen, their girls have that wholesome, Ivory-girl look to them. Very modest clothing, long hair, no makeup. They do not push their boundaries, sneak modern music into the home, beg for push-up bras and little camis, or talk of boyfriends. They truly seem to be immune from the culture.

So as my friends and I discussed this, we partially lamented how much our children are affected and influenced by the culture. We wondered how this family has pulled off this feat, so far, of keeping their children innocent and immune, while we all struggle with kids who push the limits. Maybe it is the message in the pop music that fills our kids’ ears. Maybe it’s the television, or their neighborhood friends. One of the moms in particular was sharing how painfully awkward it was for her family to be around this sheltered family, because her girls who are pretty much the same ages are in the throes of typical-teenage stuff. Wearing gaudy makeup and too-tight tops, pushing the limits and driving my friend to the bring of insanity as she constantly corrects and tries to encourage better choices. My friend feels judged and pitied by this other family for the struggles she faces and for not having chosen a higher moral path.

So I’ve mulled this over, and I realized something that was just bugging me about the whole “innocence thing.” For some families, it is simply a matter of preference. They want to pass along their love of a certain culture. They hope to instill a love of the arts. They are fed up with our plastic-loving, made-in-China-obsessed society. And there, they have my sympathy. But for others it becomes a spiritual thing. A badge of Christian honor. A sign of superior spirituality and taking the high moral road.

And while innocent children who love classical music and are untainted by the society around them sounds and looks “Christian,” is it really? Is it ultimately a closer picture of Jesus to look like an Ivory commercial? Or imagine this–a teenage boy with long hair and a skate board. His parents have (oh the horror) allowed him to have a pierced ear. He dresses in t-shirts with edgy phrases. He walks with a swagger. And every day he screws up in some way. Curses, maybe. Lusts. And daily he is driven to Jesus because he sees his messed up self and knows he cannot change on his own. He loves people and is patient with others who are messed up. He has tons of non-Christian friends–he is not threatening to them and does not judge. He just loves with a Christ-like love.

Given a choice, I’d take the latter child over the former. The innocent one might look more spiritual and might make me look better. But that appearance of spirituality is just that–an appearance. Perfect kids have no need of a savior. They never mess up. They are above the temptations of the world, and they can look down on society in general for being so messed up, while they possess all of the fruit of the spirit rolled up in a nice, neat package.

And if I’m really honest, my family is actually neither the perfect, spiritual, innocent one nor the sinful-but-loving-Jesus one. We’re somewhere in between. We waffle between being caught up in the world and loving our neighbors as Jesus loves us. As parents, Chewydad and I fluctuate between protecting our kids’ innocence and letting them experience the world in which we find ourselves. It’s a balancing act, and one we’re not too good at, as we teeter back and forth. But I know we have been the family with the perfectly-behaved kids whose primary goal was to KEEP THEM INNOCENT, and I do not want to go back. Because the fact for me was that there was a huge amount of pride caught up in that lifestyle. And a complete misunderstanding of the gospel, because we had no need of it.

So as I think about this one family, I guess my conclusion is that if they are living this lifestyle just because it is the choice they have made for their family, then more power to them. But if it has spiritual roots or a Christian label on it, then woe to them, for they missing the heart of the gospel. And that is a shame for their own children who might grow up thinking they are nice, good little Christians based on their appearance of godliness. And it is a shame for the society in which they find themselves, because they are not really a part of that society, and so the people around them miss the opportunity to know Jesus through them.

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I have this sticker on the back of my van, and let me tell you, it has generated a whole lot of questions in our town! Mostly people want to know what it means. Some aren’t even sure what it says.

When questioned, I have been quoting the verse, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.” from Romans 12:18. I think most people have been relieved. They feared I was trying to say that I embrace all three religions equally. Which I don’t. But I do embrace the idea that all three religions have a right to coexist, and that they should do so peacefully.

Just the other day I expressed this view to a man who cocked his head to the side and looked at me with a Christopher-Robin-gazing-at-Pooh-with-a-”Silly-Old-Bear” expression and said, “These groups have been fighting since the beginning of time.”

So there you have it. There has always been fighting, there always will be, so don’t hope for peace. Clearly I’m naive in my hope.

Although actually, my view goes beyond a hope. I think the entire chapter of Romans 12 gives the Christian the responsibility to work toward peace. Now, in our lifetime, we have seen that other religions seem to have a corner on the violence-market. And it is really hard to know what living at peace with all men might look like in the face of a group whose stated mission is to wipe out the infidel. But let me throw out a few ideas.

First, the way we vote certainly affects war and peace. It affects little things like decisions to invade a country based on shaky or false information. It affects who is in office and how sensitive they are to other cultures. It affects how our tax dollars are spent. And I’m not telling you how to vote, but I’m just saying that this is an issue that hopefully comes into play as you head into the voting booth.

Also, how would you react if a Muslim moved in next door to you? Would you embrace it? Would you be glad for the opportunity to get to know the person as an individual and about learning about his religion and culture? Would you immediately think, “Great! An opportunity to witness my faith to him and convert him!” Would you be afraid of how the person might influence your children? Would you wonder if he was secretly plotting to blow up your neighborhood or school?

I think living at peace with all men means that you embrace all religious views. Not that you believe all views, or agree with them. But that you are able to live side-by-side with people who differ from you. That you are able to be in relationship with them. That you can openly discuss your views together. It puts aside fear and allows people to be people. It shows respect for another person’s ideas, even if they are different than your own. And sure, you may believe that they are wrong or mislead. If you hold to religious views of any kind, you most likely will think that someone is wrong. But living at peace with all men–coexisting–means that you still respect the person enough to allow them the freedom to be different.

Two quotes to think about:

Romans 12:9-21
Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.

Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality.

Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down. Get along with each other; don’t be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody.

Don’t hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody. Don’t insist on getting even; that’s not for you to do. “I’ll do the judging,” says God. “I’ll take care of it.”

Our Scriptures tell us that if you see your enemy hungry, go buy that person lunch, or if he’s thirsty, get him a drink. Your generosity will surprise him with goodness. Don’t let evil get the best of you; get the best of evil by doing good.

And then these lyrics by U2

Love and Peace
Lay down
Lay down
Lay your sweet lovely on the ground
Lay your love on the track
We´re gonna break the monster´s back
Yes we are…
Lay down your treasure
Lay it down now brother
You don´t have time
For a jealous lover

As you enter this life
I pray you depart
With a wrinkled face
And a brand new heart

I don´t know if I can take it
I´m not easy on my knees
Here´s my heart you can break it

I need some release, release, release

We need
Love and peace
Love and peace

Lay down
Lay down your guns
All your daughters of Zion
All your Abraham sons

I don´t know if I can make it
I´m not easy on my knees
Here´s my heart and you can break it
I need some release, release, release

We need
Love and peace
Love and peace

Baby don´t fight
We can talk this thing through
It´s not a big problem
It´s just me and you
You can call or I´ll phone
The TV is still on
But the sound is turned down
And the troops on the ground
Are about to dig in

And I wonder where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Love and peace

There are disadvantages to being married to a computer nerd. You know–the type that owns several pairs of pants and ten black t-shirts with geeky sayings, all written in the same white font, that he purchased from Think Geek. Not that I know anybody like that.

Ahem.

So anyway, if I were married to a computer nerd I would, for example, not be able to update my own blog without help. Or put podcasts on my own iPod.

Which I can’t.

But finally the resident computer nerd came to my rescue and loaded me a bunch of podcasts. So today I listened to a sermon while I was out doing my run/walk. And it made me think, first about the wonders of podcasts and being married to a computer nerd, but second about sinners and sinfulness.

We’ve all heard the phrase “love the sinner, hate the sin.” But the reality is, most of us are terrified of the sinner. Christians work hard to isolate themselves from the world–to protect their childrens’ innocence, to keep evil influences at bay. We do this through Christian schools, through nightly programs at church, and some even do it by moving to “compounds.” And no, I’m not just referring to the FLDS group in Texas. Check out, as another example, R.C. Sproul, Jr’s Highland Study Center which calls itself “simple, separate, deliberate kingdom.” The word separate is not there by accident.

Even if we don’t intentionally isolate ourselves, take a look within our churches. Have you ever heard of someone referred to as “hopeless?” Well, I have. People have tried to minister to this one guy for years, and yet he still is overweight, smokes, and struggles financially. And so “the church” throws up its hands and says, “I QUIT!” And what do we do with the person who has sinned deeply and confesses it? Well, we rejoice at his repentance, but by darned he’ll never be allowed to teach (because what could he know about holiness?) or hold an office (it would be a blight on the kingdom of God). What about the divorcee? Hasn’t she left a blemish on the reputation of Christ and his relationship with the body?

Remember when Jesus was crucified? Those Jews who were putting him on the cross, yelling “crucify him!”–do you think they realized what they were doing? Of course not. They were helping God out. Doing him a favor. Here was this crazy man who rather than isolate himself and surround himself with godly men who were a picture of holiness was hanging out with sinners. Drunks, prostitutes, tax collectors. And more than that, he seemed to side with them and their understanding of the gospel over the spiritual leaders of the day. This man was a blight on God’s kingdom and had to be stopped. And those who crucified him were ready to help God stop him.

And so the most heinous act in history took place. Man killed God.

Jesus knew what was going on, and in his final words, he said, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

And the message to me, as I listened to the podcast today, was twofold. First, as a Christian, I cannot allow myself to be isolated. And frankly, it made me ticked at those who want to live in isolation and who couch it with phrases like “likeminded” and “fellowship” and such. But second, and more relevant to my own heart, Jesus asked God to forgive the self-righteous spiritual leaders of the day. And you know, even as I work to not be sucked into a message that says, “isolate yourself from the ungodly” or even one that looks at me and says, “and maybe Chewymom is one of the ungodly,” I need to stand ready to also say, “I forgive the spiritual leaders who have this attitude–they do not understand what they are doing.”

Folks, I’m surrounded by cats. We have four as pets, along with two dogs. Thankfully so far we have not ventured into the reptile and rodent category of pets, unless you include Mr. Darcy, who still is not much bigger than a large squirrel. And is currently entertaining himself in the usual way–pulling Max’s tail, and then running for cover and then starting the process all over again.

Cats are so different than dogs. My cats busy themselves doing their own thing. They will sometimes follow me from room to room, but they keep a safe distance. I can coax them to come if I walk into the laundry room and rattle their food bowl. Occasionally a couple of them will approach me to be petted. Of course, Serafina still prefers to sleep practically on my face for at least part of the night, and to purr and sharpen her claws on my back. She is not normal. But the others are typical cats–keeping their distance, waiting for me to offer them something, and then going on with their own busy lives of sleeping and grooming.
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And lately that has felt like my life. You knew this post wasn’t just going to be about cats! Do you ever feel that way? Maybe it is the life of a busy woman–wife, friend, mother, lover. Right now it feels like I am surrounded by cats–people who go on about their own lives, which are legitimately busy, and who come around at feeding time. Or whatever. It feels like I have to dangle a carrot–er some catnip, in keeping with my theme–like I have to offer something others want before they come around. I feel this need to always have the right catnip on hand, and I have an intense fear that if I run out, the cats will no longer want to come around. And it isn’t that I’m surrounded by bad cats people. They’re just busy people, like me, overwhelmed with their own lives, and probably feeling rather like they, too, are surrounded by cats.

Sometimes I just want a Mr. Darcy. Someone who adores me. Who follows me around, waiting to see what I need or what I want. Who waits for the moment that I sit down so he can just hop in my lap and lick my face like he hasn’t seen me in a week, when in fact it has only been about five minutes. I want to be pursued from room to room in my life.
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I want the Hound of Heaven! And that is Jesus. He pursues me when I am weary, sad, tired, running from Him. He is not a Mr. Darcy who loves on me for a while, but who is then distracted by more entertaining things like Max’s tail! No, his focus is all on me, and he does not rest until he has found me and brought me back before the father. And actually, even then he does not rest, because he knows I will again and again need to pursued and loved relentlessly.

This morning I am praying for the strength and love to continue to be a cat-herder. And I can only do it because ultimately, a hound is after me.

I have been a member of reformed churches for my entire adult life, and one issue that I was taught early on was that not everyone who is sitting in a church building at the close of a service ought to be taking communion. This was a totally new idea to me. My PCUSA church rarely offered communion, and I don’t remember any instructions or warnings about who should and should not take communion.

I accepted what the Reformed Baptist church, at the time, and later the PCA churches were doing and teaching about communion, but as with many issues, I never gave it a whole lot of thought.

So, now I’m thinking.

Way back when I was a young adult, it bothered me when my parents would happen to visit me on a communion Sunday. The pastor would clearly say that you had to be a member in good standing in an evangelical church. But my parents were in the PCUSA, which most would not define as evangelical. Were they heaping judgment upon themselves? Were they eating and drinking in an unworthy manner?

And then once I became Presbyterian, I was puzzled that we would include our children as members of the visible church by baptizing them, and yet we would not offer them communion. In baptism, we were stating that they were part of our covenant community. Not presuming upon God to save them, and not assuming that they would follow exactly in our footsteps. But offering them a sign of grace nonetheless. And yet not allowing them the second sacrament–that of communion. In my heart, I did not like this, but I could not really articulate why.

I have a friend who was in a bad marriage. An abusive one, although I guess since she didn’t have bruises and scars, some would not consider it abusive. She left the marriage, and as a result, she was denied communion. And that made me stop and say, “WHOA!” This woman went against the counsel of her elders, and as a result she was intentionally living in sin. And was discouraged from taking communion.

So what are the rules for taking communion? Is it for everyone? For believers? For adults? For evangelicals? For Pharisees, who appear to be holy on the outside, but on the inside are whitewashed tombs? For needy sinners who are open and vulnerable and obviously not living godly lives? And who decides which person is deserving of the Lord’s supper and which person is not?

1 Corinthians 11 has a lot to say about communion. In verse 28 it says, “Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup.” That section goes on about the person judging himself. Determining whether he is worthy to take communion. But I don’t see where it says that someone else is to make that determination.

The first Lord’s Supper ever recorded, in Luke 22:14ff, has Jesus reclining at a table with his beloved twelve disciples. Men he had spent the last three years with, pouring himself into them. Men whom he knew better than they knew themselves. He broke bread and drank wine with them, and explained that it was his body and blood, and that this tradition was to be done in his remembrance. He served the first communion to a man who would go out and deny ever knowing him–Peter. And with a man who would betray him for thirty pieces of silver–Judas. Two out of the twelve–one sixth of the group.

And so I puzzle over how and why it has become a tradition, within my own denomination and others, for the elders to determine who is worthy to participate in this remembrance of our Lord. And my denomination is “liberal” compared to some who will not allow anyone who is not a member of their particular church to commune. How is it that Jesus, who fully knew and understood the hearts of his disciples–who could see the distrust and greed and complete lack of faith that was there–would allow his unworthy disciples to participate in the very institution of the Lord’s Supper? And how is it that churches today believe they are right in denying the supper to those who profess faith, whose hearts they cannot truly know?

And is this tradition of fencing the table merely that? A tradition? Is it something we just do because people before us did it? Or is it mandated in scripture?

Thoughts?

Some of my recent posts have reflected thoughts and struggles that have been on my mind so much lately. Even in the past few days, I have deeply struggled with the death of my friend Dean. Which has, quite honestly, been a little bit unsettling for me. Dean was a very special friend to me and to our family, but the fact is he was a guy, I’m a girl, and so it isn’t like he was my best bosom friend. Not even close.

I suspect that the struggle over Dean goes deeper and really reflects the many losses I have suffered over the past four or so years. Both of my parents passed away within less than three years of each other. And folks I’m only forty-one (but shhhh, don’t tell Sally–she thinks I’m 101). I am young to be facing life without the input and guidance of a mom and dad. My children are young to have grandparents whom they knew very well and were close to removed from their lives. It took a long time to get used to not just picking up the phone to tell my mom about Sally’s latest antic or Drew’s latest achievement. I weep over Dean’s children–if I am hurting at 41, I cannot imagine the loss they feel at their young ages. I think my sorrow and extreme sense of loss over Dean probably reflects and encompasses a lot more than I realize.

And by the way, I realize that this post sounds neither happy nor joyful at this point, but bear with me.

Another grief wrapped up in all of my emotions right now is loss of relationship. Not only due to death but due to circumstances, misunderstandings, lack of time, hurtful attitudes, and moving forward. Relationships are tricky, and it is so easy to just walk away. Much easier than toughing things out and being vulnerable. And so many times, I have screwed that up.

I was expressing these feelings of loss and sadness to a friend, and she put it so well. We were not made for loss! Of course death, separation, sorrow cut us at the core. We were made for eternity. For permanence. For no end to our relationships, no sudden halts, no death, no awkwardness because we have sinned against a friend. It’s foreign to our soul, and so our soul grieves.

But, and here’s the happy thought, there can be joy! No, I’m not feeling really happy right now. I’m sad and I’m weeping and I’m hurting. But there is joy! Deep within, I am being soothed with the peace of Jesus. I KNOW that this suffering, this sorrow–for me, for my friends, for Dean’s children–it is temporary. Someday we will wonder how such a blink of an eye seemed so all-consuming.

I tend to hash out my thoughts and think through words. I express my frustrations and struggles on here–my blog…my voice. Often I fear that is the only me that is portrayed–the suffering Chewymom. But there is deeper down a peace and a joy that girds me up and keeps me going. On the surface, I am an orphan and the tears come. But deep down, I am a beloved daughter, and there is peace. On the surface, a friend is gone, and all I have left is a beautiful table–one I can run my hands over and imagine Dean the carpenter sawing, sanding, finishing. Deep down there’s another carpenter who has just welcomed his broken carpenter home and who will welcome me as well. On the surface life hurts and I am almost crushed–and it hurts. and I am not happy about it! But deep down I am resting in the strong, loving arms of a heavenly Father, and I have joy.

I have a few questions that I seriously wonder about, and I guess they get back to the issue in my mind of whether the view of women submitting to men is something that was put into place after the fall as part of the curse, or is it the way women and men were always intended to relate. Here are my questions:

* Did Eve submit to Adam before the fall?

* Will women submit to men in heaven?

Thoughts??

Over on Molly’s blog I found an excerpt from an essay written by Mark L. Strauss. And it made me think. The man spoke exactly what has been churning deep within my heart and mind for months now. Read this:

The women’s movement—both in secular society and in the church—did not arise in a vacuum. It arose in contexts where women’s voices were not heard or respected. It arose in churches where gifts and callings were ignored or demeaned. It arose in places where women who were gifted in leadership and teaching were told to sit down, shut up, and defer to their (sometimes much less gifted) male counterparts. We need to address these issues first, before we start telling women what they can and cannot do.

See, that’s the irony. I don’t think it would have ever crossed my mind to wonder if the PCA has gender roles correct if I didn’t feel devalued based on my anatomy.

I used to serve on our WIC (Women in the Church) council. The entire time I was really frustrated. I served in a position I had created–Missions Liaison. My heart was to serve missionaries and to get the women more involved in the support of missionaries. I also served on the Missions Committee. I went to WIC meetings, expecting to work through women’s issues, and I was surprised to learn that in fact, my main job was to help plan a luncheon. We met monthly, working out details like what color dots would be drawn on the paper table clothes to pretty them up, and whether to use balloons or flowers for centerpieces, and who would provide the vases, and what food to have catered. I went home with the assignment to call two pages of women to encourage them to sign up for the luncheon. I helped sell tickets and brought my dishes to compete with the other women set up a table. The frenzied planning went on for several months and finally the luncheon came off as a great success!

I relaxed and anticipated the next WIC meeting when we could get down to business. And get down to business, we did. The business of planning the Valentine’s Banquet. More of the same–decorating tables, calling women, planning the menu, selling tickets. When that was finished, we organized sending care packages to college students, and then we planned a slate of names for the next year for WIC officers and sat back, satisfied with our work for the previous year.

After two years on WIC, I felt completely and utterly useless and drained. I am not a decorator. I despise making sales calls. This was not my game and it did not tap into a single one of my strengths. I rotated off of WIC and was told that my position really wasn’t necessary anyway, so it would be dissolved. I was offended at the time, but the person who told me that was right. We were party planners, and it was not necessary to have a missions person who was party-planning-impaired on the committee.

And as I puzzle over the women in our church, I see a pattern. Women who are strong in areas like party planning, decorating, and working with children are valued. They are given jobs, and they feel satisfied with their church experience. But woe to the woman who has organizational skills and planning abilities. Heaven forbid that a woman be a deep thinker. Or worse yet, have teaching gifts. Those are a man’s job, and women had best not try to work their way into that kind of role. Best to stay on the fringes. Plan parties. Ask light, simple questions and make funny little comments in Sunday school. But don’t think. Don’t ask deep questions. Don’t discuss theology. Don’t try to teach things that you have learned.

Unfortunately there is a whole host of women who think and question. There are women gifted in organizing and leading and teaching. And I think almost every single one of them is at a point of feeling frustrated and insignificant within our church. Many of them have no desire to reconsider the PCA’s view of women. In fact, I’m not even sure if they are making a connection that their struggles may be related to their roles, or lack of roles, as women. They just know they do not feel needed or wanted as part of our body of Christ. And so they shrivel up and die inside. Many move on to other areas of involvement like the PTA or a job outside of the home, or homeschooling their children. They have retreated to the back rows of the church where they can dart out the instant church is over and not have to interact with others. Or worse, they just quit coming at all.

The involvement in other activities is not a bad thing, nor is women using their gifts outside of the local church–in fact that is good. The last thing we need is a church full of navel-gazers who never venture outside of the four walls of their church building. But it also is not a good thing to have an entire people-group within the body feeling so devalued that they can barely stand to walk through the doors, let alone to get their hearts and minds ready to worship the Creator!

Mark Strauss is a complementarian. I am not sure where I fall on the issue–I am still studying. But I do know that the essay written by Mr. Strauss resonated very deeply with me. If you are a man or woman in a church that takes a more Complementarian position on the roles of men and women, I urge you to read the essay and consider whether the church–your church even, is in sin against women. Consider how the prevailing attitude Mark addresses is fueling the fire of a radical women’s movement and agenda within our society. Consider how your church may be keeping society in general–those who may never have heard the gospel–from seeing the real Jesus. And consider how far away so many churches are from the picture Jesus gives us of men and women together being necessary parts of the body. And not just if they know how to decorate. All men and all women have value, and should be free to use the gifts God has given them both within the church and outside of it.

Have you ever heard the argument that the reason God wants women to submit and men to lead is because women are just too emotional? I hear that all the time. We would never get a thing done, because we’d be getting all weepy and trying to please everyone and such.

As though emotions are a bad thing.

Why are we so afraid of emotions? Jesus showed emotions! He became angry and overturned the tables in the temple. He wept when Lazarus died. Scripture is full of metaphors about God that involve emotion. In fact, Scripture is full of metaphors about God as a woman, but let’s not go there.

I think we fear emotions because often we cannot control them. They come upon us and wash over us! Sure, we might be able to choke back tears, or clench our jaw and count to 10 and keep the expression of our emotions in check. But underneath it all, we still feel. Now logic–there’s something we can control! We can mull it over in our mind, think it through, and decide which way we want to act or believe. Logic and thought are safe. Beware of those dangerous emotions!

If women’s emotionalism is the reason God doesn’t put them in leadership, what does he do with a couple like me and Chewydad? He is the feeler, I am the thinker. As evidenced by this picture of us, walking up the aisle just after we said, “I do.” Who’s crying??

Does the fact that Chewydad is emotional and I’m not mean that it is okay for our family to be lead by emotions? Does that mean I need to take over the lead? Does it mean that he could never serve as a church officer? Does that make me qualified?

I think we tread on dangerous ground when we disparage a human quality. God has created us! Not only did he create all humans to have emotions, but he knit each of us together in our mother’s wombs! He made some of us to feel more deeply. He allowed for variation among us–no two are alike. Not even identical triplets, like Chewydad and his brothers! They are so very different. We do not need to fear emotions. And women, we do not need to put ourselves down because in general we are more emotional than men. That is a gift! Our emotions often show the tender heart of God. Our nurturing is an image of the way God nurtures us. We are image bearers just like men! Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise or make you feel “less than” because of your gender.

For more reading on the subject of women’s emotions, read Molly’s post here.

Can I be frank for a minute? Chewydad and I are struggling. There are plenty of minor things that are piling up, but really those are so trivial they are almost laughable. We also have some weighty things on our hearts.

Do we still believe theologically what we have believed for almost twenty years of marriage? Does that theology really matter in the grand scheme of things? Are we still reformed? Do we hold to limited atonement? What do we think about women’s issues? Should women be allowed to preach? Teach Sunday school? Serve in any way?

All of these issues make for interesting talk with leaders within our church. Chewydad and I are fairly open people. A trait that makes nice southern people…uncomfortable. People are pulling us aside and wanting to meet with us. Women are sidling up to us after church and expressing concern that we are having trouble. In short, we are making people uncomfortable. They don’t know what to make of us or what to do with us.

And that has me thinking. How do we as Christians handle struggling? What do we do with people who struggle?

Chewydad and I have several friends who are struggling as well. We each have our own issues, and as Chewydad and I have grown deeper and deeper in relationship with these friends, we are learning that sometimes when a friend is struggling, you just can’t fix it! As Southerners, our tendency is to want to fix everything–package it up and tie it with a pretty bow and be done. But it is okay to just be. To just sit. To offer no answers, no nice Bible verses, no admonitions. Just to offer safety. I am learning to do that with my close friends, and they are doing that with me.

I think that verse that says, “Be still and know that I am God,” really sums it up. At the end of the day, I am not losing my faith. I love Jesus more than ever. My passion for Him runs deeper and wider every day, and His love is a salve to my hurting heart. My church friends worry about the theology I question, and they fret because I am having a hard time. They want to fix the problem, or better yet to fix me. And all I want is to be still and know that God is God!

If they want to befriend me, I want them to come and sit with me. Participate in my struggle. Hear me think out loud. Let me air my distress. And then just be still with me. Marvel that I can question, just as David questioned. I can say, “Jesus, this is so hard!” It is not too much for God. I am not fearful, I am not losing my faith, I am not throwing in the towel. So just sit with me through this. Believe with me. Heck, when I am too tired to think, believe for me.

This is what I believe Jesus would do. In fact, it is what he does through my friends who are also struggling and who have learned how to suffer. They wait patiently for the Lord. They sit.