MOVED!!!

Posted on Monday, September 3, 2007 at 04:23

PLEASE NOTE:

This blog has moved to: www.hevencense.wordpress.com

Hope to see you there!

Not quite "Tarzan"

Posted on Monday, August 27, 2007 at 11:58

Confessions of a "Home Depot Dropout" - Part 5 of 5

Posted on Saturday, August 18, 2007 at 10:38

You see, beloved, Eve wasn’t and isn’t an option.  She’s not an accessory or a sidekick.  She isn’t Tonto to the Lone Ranger, Robin to Batman or Bullwinkle to Rocky.  Eve is essential, just as God is.  He is irreplaceable.  So is Eve.  So are you.  No one else can offer the world what you have to give, what God created you to uniquely, tenderly, powerfully and femininely offer—as a woman.  As a life saver, life giver, and life sustainer. 

You and I are not alive merely to complete a man—as noble, vital and praiseworthy as that is.  (Uh—if that’s the sole purpose of woman, BTW, where does that leave single women, divorcés and widows?  Where does that leave teenage girls?  They’re just treading water, holding their breath until they meet a man and THEN they can have a purpose and real meaning in life?  Excuse me?) 

This brings me back to the beginning.  Are women set on this earth for the sole purpose of being busy, busy, busy?  Doing, dong, doing?  What’s all this “doing-ness” accomplishing, by the way?  Some of it is and should be a nautral outflow of who we are in Christ, but the rest of it?  What are we trying to prove?  To whom?  Susie’s “more spiritual” than Betsy because she has a more hectic calendar, a busier month, a fuller schedule, a mile-long list of “ministry” involvements?  Apparently, the busier you are, the more tired you are, the more “ministry” you do makes you … more of a spiritual woman? 

Excuse me again?

Sadly, it seems that many “women’s ministries” set quite a store with being as plastic, shallow, and as ingrown as possible… “Don’t color outside the lines!  Don’t ask any hard questions!  And whatever you do, don’t try to crash our clique!  We don’t want anyone rocking the boat” — even when the boat needs rocking.  Desperately.  (But that’s a story for some other time.)

So, whatever else it means to be feminine, it includes a softness, a vulnerability and openness, a tenderness and toughness, a mysterious complexity and a beautiful, soulful intricacy that are as deep and profound and ancient as time itself.  Yes.  There is something uniquely magnificent and powerful about a woman.  And the main reason I’m a recovering “Home Depot Dropout” is simple.  Far too often the average “women’s ministry” starts and stops at “Home Depot” with “role, function, position, duties, and responsibility,” and a massive, excruciatingly tedious walk down the “How-To aisle.”  They miss what matters more than anything else in all creation: They miss my Heart. 

Thank God He doesn’t. 

There’s a powerful and poignant line from James Fenimore Cooper’s epic romance, The Last of the Mohicans.  The hero, Nathaniel, says to his lover, Cora: “I will find you.  No matter how long it takes, no matter how far—I will find you.”

And that is what the Great Lover is all about.  He can and does come for me.  Over and over and over.  For my Heart and yours.  Without fail.  Again and again and again.  In fact, learning to smell and savor His mighty, gracious, eternal and loving pursuit of every Heart is the essence and urging of HEvencense.

Confessions of a "Home Depot Dropout" - Part 4 of 5

Posted on Sunday, August 12, 2007 at 11:30

Confessions of a "Home Depot Dropout" - Part 3 of 5

Posted on Thursday, August 9, 2007 at 09:15

Do you see it?  As Stasi Eldredge eloquently points out in Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul, the Genesis account holds such rich treasures for us!  The essence and purpose of a woman is unveiled here in the story of Eve’s creation.  Woman is the crown of creation –the most intricate, amazing, and dazzling creation on earth!  She, too, bears the imago Dei, the image of God.  But Eve bears the image in a uniquely feminine way that only she can share and be.  God wanted to reveal something about himself, so He gave us Eve.  What can we learn from her?  Think about it.  When you are with a woman, ask yourself, what is she telling me about God?  (Another book’s worth of responses.)

But don’t stop there. 

Have you been taught, as I was for over 40 years—that Woman was created to be a “helper”?  Have you ever felt a twinge at that unfortunate rendering? 

Hebrew scholar Robert Alter, who’s spent years translating Genesis, says that this phrase is “notoriously difficult to translate.”  Various attempts in English include “helper” or “companion” or the notorious “help meet.”

Why are these translations so… dull?  Bland, colorless, flat?  A “help meet”?  A “helper”?  A spatula is a helper.  Kenmore, Amana and Whirlpool are “helpers.”  A “companion”?  A dog is a companion.  Is that all Eve is?

Hardly.  When God creates Eve, he calls her an ezer kenegdo.  “It is not good for the man to be alone, I shall make him (an ezer kenegdo).”  Do you see it now?  “Help meet” is an inarticulate, incomplete rendering of ezer kenegdo.  Alter is getting close when he translates the concept as “sustainer beside him.”

As John and Stasi Eldredge note, “The word ezer is used only 20 other places in the entire OT.  In every other instance the person being described is God himself, when you need him to come through for you desperately.  (See Deut. 33:26, 29; Ps. 121:1-2; Ps. 20:1-2; Ps. 33:20; Ps. 115:9-11).  Most of the contexts are life and death, and God is your only hope.  Your ezer.  If He’s not there with you—you’re toast.  A better translation therefore of ezer would be lifesaver.  Kenedgo means alongside, or opposite to, a counterpart.”

          “Helper” vs. “life saver, sustainer”?  That’s like using a dust mote to describe the Grand Canyon.

-- Stay tuned for part IV --

Confessions of a "Home Depot Dropout" - Part 2 of 5

Posted on Saturday, August 4, 2007 at 04:12

   The MotherWise Mission and Vision Statements read as follows:

Mission

"Our ministry has a global mission to embrace, educate, and encourage families in absolute surrender and total abandonment to Christ. We are a community of believers networking to reach the hearts of families through MotherWise and FatherWise Bible studies, a global intercessory prayer network, and mentoring."

Vision

"Our objective is to inspire mothers to profess faith in Jesus Christ, to pass on the blessing of effective communication about her faith to her children, and to provide her with information about mothering skills that will give her the tools to empower and not impair her children."

   These are noble, laudable goals, meeting some real needs.  But did you catch it?  “Studies, skills, mentoring, instructing, building, rearing, praying, empowering, educating, networking” and my personal favorite: “providing her with information … and tools”…. 

    Swell.  Just what I need.  Another hammer.  Home Depot, here I come!

  Revisit this phrase that MW uses to describe itself.  Digest it slowly this time:

   "...Denise Glenn's Bible Study materials will take you deep into God's Word to find the answers you seek to build a solid marriage and rear godly offspring.”

   Nothing wrong with that, but do you see the underlying assumption here?  (Hint: It starts with "to find the answers....")  MW - and many others - mention "answers," but lemme ask this: "What's the question?" 

    Still with me?

    Let me emphasize that there’s nothing” wrong” with MotherWise.  That's not the point.   I’m using MW as an example of the typically myopic, mind-numbing “Home Depot” mentality of “women’s ministries” that are as tiresome and overworked as a soda jerk on Friday night.  Besides, I have another question.  Where in these noble, laudable statements is a woman’s Heart??

   IMHO, MotherWise and countless similar “women’s ministries” start at the wrong place.  With rare exceptions, “women’s ministries” invariably begin with: “What is a woman’s role, function, position, duties, and responsibility?  What should she be doing – with her husband, her kids, friends, church?  In her marriage, family, ministry, Sunday school class, kitchen, living room, bedroom, closet and garage?  What’s her role as a girl, woman, wife, mother, or `worker’ – either stay-at-home or outside-the-home?” 

   There’s nothing wrong with that.  But I wonder – why start at “Home Depot”?  Wouldn’t it be better and more helpful to start with a question.  Maybe a couple.  Like, “What IS a woman?  What’s her design?  Why did God create Eve?  Who IS she?”

   To answer this, we have to go back to square one.  The beginning.  Genesis.  Take a look at Genesis 1:26-27 and Genesis 2:20b-23.  (That’s okay.  I’ll wait.)  While your “fingers do the walking,” I’ll throw this in for free:

   Could God have raised both ish (Hebrew word for “man”) and ishshah (Hebrew word for “woman”) from the dust of the ground simultaneously?  Sure.  Then why didn’t He?  Why did God choose to create ISH first, and draw ISHSHAH out of man's rib/side/corner?  (A number of Hebrew scholars lament the use of the word “rib” as frequently translated in the above passages – but that’s a topic for another time.) 

   Did God forget to create woman at the start?  ("Oops!")  Did God draw her from man as an afterthought, an appendage?  Of course not.  God didn’t forget.  He waited for man to desire woman, to feel a hurt, an emptiness.  A void.  God waited for Adam to feel a need for Eve before He created that beautiful creature: woman.

   Look at Genesis 2:18.  What is Adam missing?  Eve.  Woman.  Femininity.  The crown of creation.  Not an afterthought.  Not an appendage or a nice addition, like frosting on a cake.  Eve is the final, astonishing work of God!  Woman.  The Creator’s finishing touch.  The conductor’s crescendo.  His  piece de resistance. 

   Wow.  

-- Stay tuned for Part 3 --

Confessions of a "Home Depot Dropout" - Part 1 of 5

Posted on Saturday, August 4, 2007 at 03:49

   Alright.  I confess.  I’m a “recovering Home Depot drop-out.”  It’s taken over 30 years to get there.  But I’m learning.  Slowly.  Gingerly.  One tentative, teetering step at a time.

   What do I mean? 

   Well, as I’ve alluded to in prior postings, I finally got to the point where I’ve “had it” with most of the programs, small groups, Bible studies, curricula, seminars, books, classes, lectures, videos and “How-To Fluff” that constitutes “women’s ministries” these days.  I’ve participated in more “ladies groups” and ministries than I can shake a stick it over the past 30+ years, and I’m…. well… tired.  As in, “Been there.  Done that.  Can we move on??!!” 

   Walking into the standard, garden variety “women’s Bible study,” I sometimes wonder if I haven’t made a wrong turn and wound up in Home Depot instead.  You know, the “How To” aisle.  IMHO, way too many “women’s ministries” inevitably revolve around How To.  Like, How To: be saved.  Have a quiet time.  Pray.  Study your Bible.  Be a godly wife, mother, friend, and the notorious “help meet.”  Raise smiling, obedient, angelic children.  Live within a budget, prepare balanced meals, shop with coupons, romance and support your spouse, communicate with your teens, be a responsible voter, volunteer and Sunday school teacher, be submissive, evangelize, and minister to family, friends, Romans and fellow countrymen while juggling the local coffee klatch and carpool club.  Or how 'bout this: How To be Cindy Crawford, Betty Crocker, Martha Stewart, Madame Curie, Sophia Loren and Mother Teresa all in one package.  "Just add women's ministries, stir, and presto-change-o!" 

   Excuse me?

   Another trip to that “Home Depot” is enough to tucker me out—not to mention bore me out!  Why?  It would take a separate book to answer that question en toto.  So let me "cut to the chase" and cite just one example: MotherWise Ministries* of Houston, Texas.  (In case you’re wondering, I’ve singled out MotherWise for two main reasons: 1) I’ve had recent, first-hand experience with this outfit.  2) It’s fresh in my mind.  Nothing personal.) 

   MotherWise is, in the organization’s own words: “Bible Study · Prayer · Mothering Skills” and “a lifeline for mothers of all ages and stages providing the Biblical instruction moms need to thrive in today's chaotic, changing society. Denise Glenn's Bible Study materials will take you deep into God's Word to find the answers you seek to build a solid marriage and rear godly offspring.”

   Quick!  Hand me another widget! 

-- Continued in Part II --

Home!!

Posted on Tuesday, July 31, 2007 at 09:46

"Never a Dull Moment"

Posted on Thursday, July 26, 2007 at 08:21

We got the call from camp yesterday afternoon.  Son Nathan, age 14, broke his left femur in three places just above the knee via a rope swing mishap at camp yesterday aft. 

Apparently Nathan was alone at the swing when he crashed/fell .  He laid on the ground hollering his head off for who knows how long until someone heard him and rushed for help.  The medical team was unable to lift and carry Nathan out of the ravine where the rope swing is located.  So the helicopter hovered over the ravine, lowered a gurney which Nathan was loaded onto (after receiving morphine) and reeled into the chopper.  Nathan was airlifted from camp to Harborview Hospital in Seattle. I talked to him on the phone around midnight last night and told him next time he wants a helicopter ride, JUST ASK!

Nathan had surgery this morning.  The Orthopedic team inserted a plate and a couple screws.  There is a chance of permanent leg length disparity.  My husband, Chris, zoomed up to the hospital yest. and has been with Nathan all day.  We have one vehicle and someone had to stay home and "wo-man the fort" with our 3 other boys.  The surgery went well and Nathan was just returned to his room on the 8th floor after being released from Recovery.  He may be in the hospital another 2-3 days.   It's "never a dull moment" with four boys in the family!

Hopefully Chris will be able to come home tonight to get some rest.  Even at $3.05/gal for gas, it's cheaper to fill up the tank and drive the 2.5 hours to Seattle than it is to get a motel room overnight.  We'll head back to the hospital together tomorrow.  Friends from church will watch our boys for us.

Doubtless every Mom reading this knows EXACTLY how I feel.  While awaiting further news, I s'pose I'm doing what I do best - reading Dickens and Austen and trying to keep Hershey's solvent single-handedly.   Thankful for friends who've been generous with their kind thoughts and prayers, and for the Great Faithfulness of the Great Physician.

Pockets

Posted on Wednesday, July 25, 2007 at 09:27

I should clean out my pockets more often.  Excavating a jacket pocket that hasn't been used for months, I found the following scribbled on a scrap of paper from the library:

"He makes His ministers a flame of fire.  Am I ignitible?

God, deliver me from the dread asbestos of `other things.'  Saturate me with the fruit of the Spirit that I may be a flame.  But flame is transient, often short-lived.  Canst thou bear this, my soul - short life?

In me there dwells the Spirit of the Great Short-Lived, whose zeal for God's house consumed Him.  Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God."

-- Jim Elliot

Martyred missionary to the Aucas of Ecuador

The Yali - Part 2 of 2

Posted on Sunday, July 22, 2007 at 06:15

Lords of the Earth.  Kopai.  Female subjugation, despair, violence, hopelessness.  I don’t think this can be fully understood outside the spiritual dimension, starting with Ephesians 6:12:

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

As John and Stasi point out in Captivating, the Prince of Darkness has a special hatred of femininity (See chapter 5).  Look at what happened in Eden.  Who did Satan go after?  The serpent could have chosen Adam.  But he didn’t.  He hissed his pernicious poison at Eve.

Why?

Did the Enemy, like any predator, choose to attack whom he believed to be the weaker of the two humans?  Could be.  But is there more?  Remember that Satan was first named Lucifer, “Son of the Morning.”  This infers a glory or radiance unique to him.  See Ezekiel 28:12-14: “You were the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty (vs. 12b).”

Lucifer was perfect in beauty.  Stunning.  Glorious.  Satan knew it, and that was his downfall.  See Ezekiel 28:17: “”Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.”  Pride entered Lucifer’s heart and he sought the worship and adoration reserved for God alone. 

Listen up, ladies.  This is key.  After Lucifer fell, who was made the crown of creation, the crescendo of God’s creativity?  Who is the incarnation of the Beauty of God?  Who became God’s final, amazing, astonishing stroke of Beauty?  By Beauty I don’t mean physicality.  I don’t mean Max Factor, Revlon, L’Oreal, or Saks Fifth Avenue.  I mean the tender, tough, bold, shy, glorious, mysterious, indefatigable, intrepid, amazing beauty of a soul at rest in and reflecting God.  As Stasi explains, “The essence of a woman is Beauty.  She is meant to be the incarnation—our experience in human form—of a Captivating God.”

Do you get it?  Eve – ishshah - Woman - represents everything the Enemy hates, loathes, despises, and seeks to destroy.  Think enraged.  Foaming-at-the-mouth rabid.  Like a Stinger missile after a heat signature, the Enemy is locked in on an all-out assault on Beauty.  He has a special hatred of Eve – and all her daughters. 

Satan also hates women because we are life-givers and life-sustainers.  Eve is a lifesaver.  Her name means “life, living” or “life giver, producer.”  But the Evil One is a liar and a murderer from the beginning (John 8:44) and brings only death.  Need convincing?  Just look at today’s headlines. 

Now, put these two things together: 1) Eve embodies the Beauty of God, and 2) She gives life to the world.  And don’t miss this: Messiah came from Eve (see Genesis 3:15).  Notice that this verse says, “her seed.”  It does not say “his” seed or “the man’s seed.”  No.  This verse is Eve’s.  (It would take a separate book to pontificate further on this point, so I’ll stop here.)

But do you see the incredible threat Eve is to the kingdom of darkness?  Woman - he hates you because you’re a huge threat to his kingdom!  Because you uniquely carry the glory of God to the world.  So he assaults Eve with a special hatred.  Why?  The Enemy hates you because he fears you.  (Worth another book.  Maybe later.)

But as the Yali and so many former captives of the Prince of Darkness and his malevolent reign finally learned, there is more to the Story.  Because just as every Story has its Villain, this one also has its Hero.  

Don Richardson writes:

    One weekend at Ninia, I attended a communion service along with about 100 Yali men and, yes, an equal number of devout Yali women.  And it is no coincidence that in a valley where women now enjoy privileges of worship and religious instruction on an equal basis with men, the female suicide rate—once at least 10 times higher than the male suicide rate—has now fallen almost to zero!  (p. 363)

Richardson concludes Lords of the Earth with a final interview with Kusaho, a Yali tribesmen who tried to intervene and prevent the martyrdom of Irian Jaya pioneer missionaries Stan Dale and Phil Masters:

    I tested the feasibility of using the Yali “place of refuge” concept as an analogy pointing to Christ as man’s perfect Refuge. 

We said: “Kusaho, your Yali osuwa was limited to just one geographical location.  If a beleaguered man couldn’t get to it in time, he died without mercy.  And it offered protection only form physical danger, not spiritual.  For this reason God saw that your people needed a better kind of osuwa, one that could be around you in ANY geographical location—one that could deliver you from spiritual as well as physical danger.  That is why He sent His Son.”

“Christ is mankind’s perfect osuwa!  Do you understand this?”

(Kusaho’s) Response was immediate.  “Of course I understand it!  Those words are very meaningful to me.  When I return to Wikboon, I will explain the gospel to my people in this way, so that many more will believe.” (pp. 363-364.)

Thousands of years of Enemy-induced Yali hatred, revenge, bloodlust and murder were shattered by the Lord Jesus Christ -- the osuwa, the Hero who triumphed over that old serpent and all his minions.  That Triumph isn’t just for the stone-age Yali people, but for Eve and all her daughters, too!  The Victor is also the Hero of the Greatest Love Story ever told.  How He woos, pursues and yearns to win your tender, tough, bold, shy, glorious, mysterious, indefatigable, weary, intrepid, amazing, beautiful, and feminine Heart!

Stay tuned.

Laus Deo.

The Yali - Part 1 of 2

Posted on Saturday, July 21, 2007 at 08:19

I’m almost done.  A couple more chapters and I’ll finish Don Richardson’s Lords of the Earth (Regal, 1977), the compelling story of sacrifice and redemption in the 1960s jungles of Irian Jaya.  This remarkable narrative of pioneering missionary work among the ferocious Yali people chronicles efforts to reach a brutal stone-age tribe where male domination and female subjugation were all-pervasive, omnipresent, and indisputable. 

Reading this riveting true story, it hit me like a two by four between the eyes: The way demonized cultures treat women.  Like chattel.  No, worse than chattel.  Sub-human.  Worthless.  Useless except as bearers of children and work camels.  The men of these cultures rule with an iron fist, through terror, violence, threats and intimidation, degradation, physical and psychological abuse, and a suffocating, ruthless hostility and hard-heartedness that literally snuffs the lives out of those within their societies unfortunate enough to be born female.

In fact, female suicide in such cultures can be so frequent that it doesn’t merit a second thought.  Always, the “gods” or deity(ies) of these cultures are invariably and solely for the men.  No women allowed.  See this passage from Lords of the Earth (p.139):

 Kopai, a Yali woman, suddenly finds herself and three friends surrounded by warriors from Yabi, an enemy village.  They try to flee but the laughing enemy launches a hail of arrows into their bodies.  Just before Kopai died she lumbers, arrow-heavy into the stone wall of Mobahai, a sacred place.  Any man, friend or foe, would be spared death if he reached a sacred place, where drawing blood was strictly forbidden.  But this sanctuary did not apply to women. 

 Richardson describes what happens next:

 … she did not seek refuge there (at Mobahai).  For the kembu sprits of that place were not her gods.  They were the gods of only half of the Heluk population—the male half.  In fact, the glory of the kembu sprits who haunted that place could increase only to the degree that women were excluded from their presence.  The Kembu’s holy ground, therefore, offered no refuge to Kopai.  For her to enter that holy ground, even to escape death, would only assure her death at the hands of her own relatives.  She preferred to die at the hands of enemies.

 Does that horrify you as much as it does me? 

 The mindset isn’t confined to the jungles of Irian Jaya, either. 

A nut-tree, an ass, and a woman are useless if blows are spared. (Danish, Latin)

Women are deficient in intelligence and religion (Bukhari 2: 6/301; 24/541)

Both a good woman and a bad woman need the stick. (Italian)

Fire, the sea, and woman; these are three ills. (Latin)

From an Amnesty International report (http://web.amnesty.org/actforwomen/gre-120607-action-eng):

     Josephine was brought to Greece after being promised a secure job and a life in Europe. Her “safe passage” to Greece was arranged by people she trusted. She later found out that they were associates of her traffickers. When she arrived in Greece, she was forced to dance in a club and have sex with customers to pay the “debts” to her traffickers. To get her to comply with their demands, her traffickers burned her face with cigarettes and drenched her in scalding and freezing water.

 These aren’t isolated incidents.  Compare the story of Kopai, published in 1977, with these reports from Amnesty International:

 Véronique, captured in November 2002 by an armed opposition group
in western Côte d’Ivoire.

When the rebels arrived in November 2002, they told us they weren’t going to touch us and that they had come to overthrow the government. Some were in military uniform and others wore the outfit of the dozos [traditional hunters]. Some time later, however, they began to enter our houses and take women by force. One day before the end of 2002, five of them came to my house. Two of them raped me and two others raped my younger sister, aged 19. They took me off to Grand Gbapleu, where there were at least 200 rebels.

 Thirty women, including young ones, had been captured by them. … They asked us to do the cooking for them, and in the course of that the other women told of how they were raped, some recounting that they were beaten when they refused to submit.

 "I don’t want to live in Alepe anymore; I’ve left the school I used to go to."
Catherine, a schoolgirl, raped by a member of the government security forces in Abidjan in March 2006.

There are countless more stories like these.  Nauseating in their frequency and scope.  Ghastly, grisly, appalling, heart-wrenching, soul-shattering true stories of women and girls horribly abused, mistreated, starved, oppressed, beaten, tortured, maimed, raped and killed.  Not to say that horrific things don’t happen to males, too, but it’s always bothered me: why is so much hatred and violence so often directed toward and perpetrated against women, daughters of Eve?  This isn’t exactly “dinner conversation.”  It’s not generally discussed in polite circles.  But have you ever wondered (or screamed): “WHY??!!”

 Don Richardson continues:

   Yali religion excluded women from all matters spiritual and sacred.  Yali religion purged all relation to the feminine psyche, which otherwise would soon undermine man’s resolve toward the spirits, thus forfeiting their help and betraying men and women to their doom.

This suppression of female religious instinct, of course had its drawbacks.  For Yali women, deprived of all feelings of religious exaltation and sensing constantly the kembu spirits’ enmity toward them, lived in perpetual psychological depression.  Sanguine personalities were never in evidence among them.  Their suicide rate was 10 times greater than that of Yali men, and many times greater than that of their western Dani counterparts…”  (Lords of the Earth, p. 170)

 Can you even begin to fathom such oppression, such utter helplessness and  desolation?  Lost women, without hope.  Ensnared by the serpent.

Kopai in Irian Jaya.  A woman in Greece.  A woman and a school girl in Côte d’Ivoire.  Four accounts.  Thirty years apart.  And counting.  Do you see the common thread here?  I’m no expert on this subject, but doesn’t this historical hatred of women strike you as… orchestrated?  By whom?  And why?

Where's Your Heart?

Posted on Wednesday, July 18, 2007 at 11:56

Lest I be misunderstood, let me clarify that there’s nothing inherently “wrong” with the 10 Weeks to Better Mothering, How to be a Godly Wife series, ladies’ teas, luncheons or banquets, 15 Lessons for Loving Your Man or the “Do This, Do That” approach to “women’s ministry.”  As in, “Do these 10 things, follow this formula, and voila!" Out pops a spiritually mature woman, wife and mom approaches to “women’s ministry.” 

Excuse me?

I’ve seen these kinds of “ministries” bloom over the landscape of Christendom like California poppies after the first Spring rain.  Maybe you have, too.  Let me be clear that many of them are noble and laudable, and meet real needs—to a point.  But what bothers me with this oft-replayed “ministry mentality” is that it too often reduces Christian womanhood to little more than a “To Do List.”  Nothing wrong with To Do Lists, but c’mon on!  Do you want….More?  I don’t want to be exhausted or guilt-laden by “women’s ministries.”  (“Oops!  I’m falling down in Items 2 and 9, back to square one!”)  Nor do I want to be patronized or meet Death by Boredom or Redundancy. 

In short, I wonder… Is a To Do List who or what God intended for Daughters of Eve?  Hmmm.

I also wonder…

Where are the “women’s ministry” groups discussing that which is academic, scholarly and stretching?  Where are the discussion groups focusing on themes of grace and mercy in the collected works of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Fyodor Dostoevsky or Leo Tolstoy within the context of personal application?  (Plans to launch something like this invariably fall on deaf ears.  Hmmm.)  Who’s read Elisabeth Elliot’s masterful work, A Path Through Suffering: Discovering the Relationship Between God’s Mercy and Our Pain?  Here’s a choice rhubarb:  when’s the last time you heard why “the original purpose of woman according to Genesis-- to be a helper”—is an incomplete, unfortunate rendering of a Hebrew text that is notoriously difficult to translate?  

This blog can’t and won’t provide all the answers.  (To be sure, I often have more questions than answers!)  This blog won’t “provide” yet another rant about all the things you’re failing to do as a “Christian woman.”  I’ve read those sites, blogs and books.  I’m tired of those sites, blogs and books.  They’re stifling, sometimes insulting, and often soul-killing. 

Anyone else feel that way?

You see ladies, what I want to know is, where is your Heart, the prize of the One who made you? 

If you’re interested, stay tuned.  Better yet, RUN (don’t walk) to your nearest Christian bookstore and get a copy of Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul, by John and Stasi Eldredge. 

I’m a ravenous reader, “chowing down” an average of a book a week, sometimes more.  But Captivating is in a class by itself.  This remarkable book is  234 pages of wonder, enrichment, invitation, explanation, exploration, challenge, truth, and… sheer delight. Like a cool draught of water on a blistering August afternoon, Captivating has refreshed, confirmed and rounded-out my views and understanding of Christian femininity.  Talk about a welcome whiff of fresh air!  I read it cover-to-cover in two days.  (Captivating warning: Bring Kleenex.  I went through half a box before finishing this extraordinary, outstanding tome.)

Indeed, it’s inevitable that this blog will include several “songs” from the Captivating “score.”  This may be due to the fact that I’m still a work in progress, learning as I go.  Sorting things out and processing  while leaning on the Everlasting Arms.  If you’d like to join me, you’re always welcome.  In the meantime, find out more about John and Stasi Eldredge by visiting my links under Ransomed Heart Ministries.

There’s more (like you had to ask?).  I make no promise of confining my remarks solely to this subject—in fact, I’ll probably run around all over the literary landscape here.  However, the over-worked “Proverbs 31” ministry paradigm is an area of special interest to me at present.  In keeping with this interest, I’ll “rush in where angels fear to tread” via an example of a specific "women's ministry" from the “flip side of the coin” in the near future.  (It may arrive in 2 or 3 postings -  Stay tuned.)

  Laus Deo.

Shaggy

Posted on Tuesday, July 17, 2007 at 11:17

"Mommy, will you look at this?" four year-old Josiah asks, tugging at my sleeve while excavating his bulging pocket. 

"Not now honey," I sigh.  "Mommy’s busy." 

It’s "one of those days."  After spending most of the morning picking Juicyfruit out of the cat’s whiskers, scrubbing stubborn grass stains out of three baseball uniforms and rushing overdue books back to the library, I’ve just returned from an emergency run to the grocery store for tonight’s spaghetti dinner.  Next on my To Do List is tackling a minor Matterhorn of dirty dishes.  I hope I can at least clean up "base camp" before revving up "Mom’s Taxi Service" to pick up Josiah’s three older brothers from this afternoon’s Little League practices.

Josiah follows me into the kitchen.  I open a Safeway bag to discover pasta but no spaghetti sauce.   I look at the clock and jerk out my car keys.  Again. 

"Mommy, come watch me run," my preschooler intones, "I can run 80 miles an hour!"

I beg off, groaning, and hustle Josiah into a brisk autumn afternoon for yet another mad dash to the store.  He jabbers cheerfully non-stop.  I feign interest, rationalizing that I don’t have time for another "interruption" in my already way-behind day.

Sheets of rain tumble down my windshield.  I forgot the umbrella.  We jump out of the van and bolt into the store, breaking land-speed records in search of an unusually elusive jar of Prego sauce.  Josiah and I hurry home.  I rush son and groceries inside before we all get soaked.  I’m vaguely aware of muffled whimpering.

"Mommy!" Josiah tries for the umpteenth time as we scramble into the kitchen.

"Not now!" I snap.  He stops.  "Mommy doesn’t have time right now," I explain.  Softening, I add, "Sometimes grown-ups have too much to do to be able to play."

"Mahhh-meee!" Josiah quavers, azure eyes clouding.  The dam breaks as he wails, "I lost Shaggy!"

Shaggy.  His omnipresent stuffed animal.  My son's favorite toy.  A scuffed, rumpled companion from Josiah’s infancy, Shaggy’s not pretty.  One eye is missing.  Most of the dog's brown fur is loved off.  His noble head is almost entirely denuded from close contact with Josiah’s cheeks.  The faithful canine has survived accidents with wagons, tricycles, the fireplace and a blender.  He’s cheered Josiah through countless doctor's offices and three eye surgeries.  Been run over by the car and baseball cleats.  Suffered numerous mendings and sibling spats.  Survived two cross-country moves in six months without getting lost.  Until today.  My To Do List flutters to the floor, forgotten in the face of a REAL emergency.

A futile search of house and van ensues.  Frantic, Josiah and I jump into the van and tear back to the store. 

"I don’t have time for this!" I mutter as we peel through the Produce aisle and dart toward the Dairy Section.  Three inquiries later, an alert assistant manager retrieves Shaggy from his rain-soaked perch atop an empty grocery cart.  Boy and toy are joyously reunited.  And now I’m really running late.

Home with his bedraggled buddy, Josiah scampers into the kitchen, "Read me a story Mommy.  Shaggy wants a story!"  I’ve just finished toweling off Shaggy following his involuntary shower.

 "Here," I say, thrusting the tousled dog into Josiah’s arms, "Why don’t you and Shaggy go play in your room for awhile?  Mommy can’t play right now.  I’m busy." 

Josiah’s eager grin fades as he grabs Shaggy, turns away, and hauls the hapless hound into his room by an ear.  My son closes the door behind him.  My head’s too full of lists, clocks, simmering sauce and schedules to notice the… the... quiet.  Too much of it.

"Do I really sound like that?!" I murmur, startled.  I’ve crept to Josiah’s too-quiet room.  He’s conversing with his captive audience.  His only audience.

"Not now, Shaggy!" Josiah admonishes the wordless mutt.  "You’re a little doggie.  I’m the grown-up doggie.  Grown-ups don’t have time for little dogs!" Josiah squalls, stomping his foot for emphasis.  Brow furrowed in grown-up consternation, Josiah tosses Shaggy into the closet.

"Go away!" my little boy bellows, "I’M BUSY!" 

The house seems quiet indeed.  Painfully, dreadfully quiet.  I suddenly recall how many times I climb into my Heavenly Father's lap, jabbering a mile a minute.  Pull at His sleeve.  Demand His undivided attention, His inner ear.  Has He ever responded, "I'm busy, go away"?  Has my Father ever reproached me with, "I have too much to do right now!  Can't you see I'm busy?"

Green nausea somersaults through my stomach.  I retreat to the kitchen phone and start dialing.  Coaches agree to bring home my older boys.  My husband volunteers to grab dinner from the Golden Arches.

The sauce is turned off.  The dishes are left in the sink as I knock on Josiah’s door.  He graciously accepts my soggy apology, crawls onto my lap and digs into his Oshkosh pocket to retrieve today’s prizes: four pockmarked pebbles from the river, a deer tooth, rumpled pine cones, a red plastic firefighter, and three slightly grimy pennies.  The Fort Knox of a preschooler. 

Shaggy is rescued from closet exile as we chase The Runaway Bunny, dine on peanut butter and jelly and watch the sun set.  I cheer for a little boy who really can run "80 miles an hour!" 

After bath and bed I tiptoe to my son's room.  Shaggy is scrunched under Josiah’s chin beneath a shower of cherubic snores.  The paunchy pup seems quietly content sharing his mangy life with his boy. 

My sparkling, effervescent tow-head will be five years old next year.  Then my little boy will be a man, grown and gone in the blink of an eye.  He’ll leave behind a frayed brown dog, empty pockets, and with any luck, many barely scratched To Do Lists.

I tuck in boy and his toy and indulge in an extra smooch for Shaggy.  The threadbare pooch may not be much to look at, but he’s beautiful to me: the dog who spoke volumes without saying a word.

Sole Song

Posted on Sunday, July 15, 2007 at 09:14

“Lord,” I sputtered, “you don’t understand.  Send Marilyn (not her real name) a card after what she did to me?”

His velvet steel reply was unequivocal, soft but unbending: “Yes.  And while you’re at it, send Sean a birthday card, too.”

Wham.  Double wham.  Marilyn acquired the dubious distinction of “former friend” over a year ago.  Now God was asking me to do something for her that Marilyn hadn’t done for me. 

Marilyn and I exchanged cards and gifts to mark seasonal and special occasions for years.  It was our way of saying, “You're special.  I care about you.”  I thought Marilyn and I were on the same page until my November birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas all went unnoticed  – for no discernible reason.  Ditto Valentine’s Day, Easter, Mother’s Day and my May anniversary.   It was a sizeable shift in our relationship that was never explained.  Was Marilyn sending me a message? 

When asked, Marilyn mortared a thick wall of busyness: “I don’t even have time to send cards to my own family.”  This latest oversight capped a year-long series of snubs and woundings of varying degrees that eventually resulted in a crumpled friendship.  It was a small thing to Marilyn, a dust mote on the canvas of our relationship.  To me, however, it was The Last Straw.  I tried to tell her.  More than once.  Marilyn never had time to listen.

Soul-clarifying communication, consistent contact and regular expressions of caring are my Love Language.  So when Marilyn slid out of my life with “too busy” and “otherwise engaged,” I felt as lost as an F flat in the key of A.  Even worse was her icy indifference, a dissonance that continued unabated even after I confronted her on it. 

They say that the opposite of love isn’t hate, but apathy.  Truer words were never spoken when it came to Marilyn and me. 

Bewildered, I watched helplessly as the relationship crumbled despite my best efforts to shore it up.  Eventually, I was as burned out as prairie grass after a lightning strike.  Continued unresponsiveness on Marilyn’s part hauled me to the heart-wrenching conclusion that our friendship was over.  I finally gave up, let her go.  I don’t think Marilyn noticed.  She was too busy “doing ministry” to remember my birthday or anniversary—or my phone number, address, or email.  Hence, when Marilyn’s anniversary rolled around, I resolved to let it go by unsung—a reprise of her tune.  But Someone had another song in mind.

The sense of loss was still raw when I heard His lyrics.  Paralyzed, my frayed heart was too Lilliputian to manifest the kind of love and grace this seemingly small act required.  So He enlarged my heart, pouring out His love for me in a million different tunes--until my “heart reservoir” overflowed with Him.  The result?  I couldn’t refuse His command to “leak” His love onto Marilyn.

Both cards and a gift went in the mail.  My hands shook as I dropped them into the postal box.  Reaching out like this, taking a risk this big when I had been hurt so badly?  What am I doing?  An Alaska-sized lump rose in my throat.  This kind of vulnerability terrified me.  What if she blows me off again? 

Marilyn never acknowledged card or gift.  She chose to remain detached, aloof, and utterly unresponsive.  Same old, same old.  I didn't expect anything else, but.... Well.  I was disappointed but not devastated.  Why?  Because in the process of trusting obedience to a divine imperative I didn’t understand, Jesus enlarged my heart.  The relational spark I hoped my gesture might ignite never materialized.  But I did what He asked me to do.  I left the rest with Him. 

I’m learning that the hole in my heart left by the loss of a cherished friendship drives me closer to the only One who can fully fill my soul.  And when the Lord Jesus pours His love into me, stretching me beyond the limits of my small, weak self, the music He makes can be as breathtaking and as powerful as a Puccini aria.  He’s slowly—sometimes painfully--replacing my soul-shrinking solo with soaking splashes of Himself, orchestrating a duet as vast and endless as His Love for both me and Marilyn.