Author: laurenlarkin

Book Recommendation: Justin and Lindsey Holcomb’s “God Made All of Me”

I might be completely addicted to these two people.

And I’m not afraid to admit it.

Justin and Lindsey Holcomb have written some of my favorite books: Rid of My Disgrace and Is It My Fault?  I’ve reviewed both of those books on http://www.mbird.com and posted those reviews on amazon. I can’t speak highly enough about these books and their authors. I believe that both of these books should be on every book shelf.

Oh, and this book, too, for children:

“God Made All of Me”

It’s new. Like, just-released-today new. This book offers an accessible discussion for children about how special our bodies are because God has made every part, and that because they are special no one has the right to touch any part of you without your consent.  This book is geared to empower children with the language to say, “No!”, and to call, “Help!” This book is also geared to  empower parents and adults with the language to initiate this rather heavy conversation with the children we love.

I’ve had the pleasure (and honor) to read this and I can tell you–with all certainty–that this book is a must have for children…if you have children, work with children, know children, have ever seen a child, or heard of the idea of children, you should have this book, and maybe 5 back-up copies to hand out.

You can check out the book here on Amazon.

Go.

What are you waiting for?

There’s no time to lose.

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The Gospel is Still the Gospel

No matter how big someone is or how small, their sin (both revealed and cloaked) cannot invalidate the Gospel message. The Gospel is still the Gospel even in situations when something shocking and even mind boggling is publicly revealed in someone’s life. The Gospel is no less true now in the midst of ruthless exposure, in the waterfall of horizontal consequences, in the darkness of shame and guilt than it was the 2.2 seconds right before everything was found out.

I’m not just talking about big names here; I’m talking about you and me, too. While our trash isn’t strewn about newspaper and social media headlines (and most of us are pretty glad about that), our sin is still sin and even in the midst of it being exposed (someone clearly witnessed you verbally rip apart your kid, you were caught gossiping about a friend, your lack of work ethic finally noticed by your boss) the gospel isn’t (ever) invalidated. Our sin cannot remove one iota of truthfulness about God’s never-ending, never-ceasing, one-way love for us the sinners.

 The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. 1 Timothy 1:15

The Gospel is STILL the Gospel.  Jesus still came to save sinners–those who know they are sinners(exposed) and those who don’t (waiting to be exposed).  God still loves the world to a great degree–He loves you, and He loves him and her, He loves me–that John 3:16 is as much a present day truth as it was way back when. He doesn’t love us because we’re now keeping the law, He doesn’t even love you more when you do or because you are; He’s always just loved you fully and completely. In fact, it’s that one-way complete love that’s got any momentum to change (radically) your stone heart, my stone heart, his and her stone hearts. The law cannot do this. Ever.

Now we know that the law is good, if one uses it lawfully, understanding this, that the law is not laid down for the just but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for those who strike their fathers and mothers, for murderers, the sexually immoral, men who practice homosexuality, enslavers, liars, perjurers, and whatever else is contrary to sound doctrine, in accordance with the gospel of the glory of the blessed God with which I have been entrusted. 1 Timothy 1:8-11

Right before St. Paul pens the words quoted above in 1 Timothy 1:15, he writes the previous portion of scripture about the law. The law, according to Paul is for our disobedient flesh (the “unjust”). The “just” part of you, the part of you that is determined by faith in Christ, and thus justified and thus made the righteousness of God has no dealing with the law.  In our united to Christ state (by faith in Him which is a gift from God Himself and no work of your own) we do not now look to the law as a good word for our soul, as a  word of remedy, or as a word of help. The law will always be a word for the flesh, of death-dealing exposure.

The law cannot prevent us from partaking in bad plans–we are quite capable of ignoring and down right overruling the law when we want to and desire to.  The law cannot prevent us from coveting for it’s jurisdiction is not the heart. The law cannot cause us to be good, righteous, and holy–even though it so desperately desires to make us such; it’s impotent to do so.  The law’s word which exposes sin cannot prevent it but sentence it and the doer…to death.

So, to now, in light of the exposure of our sin (however dire it may be in the public realm), turn and say: had so and so (you, me, him and her) had more law in their life they wouldn’t have done “x” is a misnomer and exposes a grave misunderstanding of the law.  If the law can prevent sin (deep, deep down) then I’m lead to ask, why would I ever need the Gospel?

The law can only expose the covetous and selfishness, the sickness and rottenness, the prideful of me and disdainful of you parts of my flesh. And, get this, the law works for, serves the Gospel, so that exposure is exposure into the light and that light is the light that the darkness could not, cannot, will not ever over come. That light is the light of the word that is the Gospel that is Jesus himself (John 1).  Into your exposure enters this God, into your dirt and crap and unjustness and fleshiness walks this good, good, God. And He’s unafraid to touch you, to grab you in his strong arms and carry you into real life. And repeatedly. It’s not a one time thing. We are repeatedly exposed and repeatedly loved–minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day, week to week, month to month, and year to year.  His mercies are new every morning…every morning dawn that follows the dusk of our sin.

The law will always expose where we are errant and bring it and us, the doers, to death; the Gospel will always resuscitate us, the hearers, from death and replace what was dead with what is alive, what was stone with what is flesh, what was concealed with what is unconcealed, what was rejection with what is acceptance, what was condemnation with what is conviction, what was no with what is yes.

Does the proclamation of the Gospel (the word of Christ, the distinction of the law from the Gospel) fail in light of our exposures (big and small, public and private)? Does our exposure render the Gospel any less true or effective as a word that creates new life upon being heard? Does our exposure make it now necessary to add law to the Gospel, to preach more law and cut back on the message of freedom and love? No.

As far as I can tell–and I’ve looked and looked–the answer will always be no. The Gospel is still the Gospel even when broken human beings royally screw up.

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Confessions of a Social Media Junky

Or a budding “Social Media Junky.” I’m sure, in the grand scheme of things, there are people more addicted than I am or was. But, nonetheless, this is my story full of everything average and nothing over-the-top. Mostly, this is the story of the power of conviction–wrought by the presence of the Holy Spirit–in my life. These words that comprise this confession, if you will, are words that are the fruit of the gentle, loving, nudging, calling God that gave himself for us; these are not words of condemnation…not for me and especially not for you. I’m sharing my experience, my conviction, not telling you what to do. This type of post is never easy to write because it can strike a chord (or many) in people internally wrestling with their own budding junkiness. So, I’ll be up front about it: none of these words, none of this confession is meant or intended to be the law to you; read it if you are intrigued, skip it if you are too sensitive to any law–trust me, I’ve been there, you’re free to react in any way you want. Despite the words here and their possible lack of life for you, you are dearly and clearly loved by God apart from you’re relationship with social media (bad or good).

So, here goes…

There are things that are ok with us and other things that are just poisons. I had a friend once who couldn’t read Stephen King novels because they caused her too much fear; they’ve never bothered me. I’ve known some people who can’t listen to secular music; I do, I’m fine with it…in fact, I enjoy it, listening to the under current of human desire gone unmet or the base obsession with self/human-promotion present in so many songs. But then there’s social media, my technological Achilles heal. Ooph. Any pride I had for not being addicted to anything else was quickly eclipsed in light of my addiction to social media.

And, the sad part? I wouldn’t have called it an addiction because I could put my phone down (well, mostly), and I could ignore the notifications (well, sometimes), and I could walk away from it when others needed me (oh, well, yeah…sort of…I mean only after I got that last tweet out or put the finishing touches on a comment…).  I never would have classified social media as something that disturbed the general flow of my life and real-time and real-place relationships because nothing bad had happened (yet). It was just a thing…that I did…almost all the time.

I never would have noticed how entangled I was in Social Media had it not been for the accidental leaving my phone at home one morning as I walked to our mailbox with my (then 18 month old) daughter. It was a slow 45 minute lap around our small neighborhood, but it was a sweet 45 minutes and it changed my life.

I remember the brief panic I felt when I realized I didn’t have my phone on me as we headed down our road. Following the voice of my panicky conscience (What if you miss something? What if they don’t miss you?  How will anyone know you are being an awesome mom right now?)  came that still, small, gentle voice of conviction from the Holy Spirit (Do you see her? That’s your daughter. She is more important than any number of followers or friends you could ever have or interact with. Twitter and Facebook will be there when you get back; she’ll only be this old now.) My heart broke. But it was a good break. The break of breaking into life out of death.

That’s the difference between conviction and condemnation. The fruit of conviction is always life, and the result of condemnation is death.  The feeling of and initial reaction to both can be the same but the difference is always in the aftermath of hearing the word. I didn’t run and hide (condemnation). I didn’t try to rationalize away anything (condemnation). I embraced that I’d been going about this whole thing all wrong (conviction) and I grabbed her chubby hand and walked at her pace, I stopped at and stomped in puddles, and stooped low every time she squatted down to examine something (conviction).

What did I embrace during that small moment of life-changing conviction? I embraced my justification. Knowing full well that I’m justified by faith in Christ apart from works (good and bad), I heard not condemnation from the Spirit but conviction. I was free to be wrong and to confess that my priorities were out of  whack.  I was free to confess that I’d been putting her, my sons, my husband, and (essentially) my life second to my relationship with social media. I was free to confess that I was substituting the virtual for what was real. I was free to confess that I was putting a greater value on my twitter followers and Facebook friends than on my own real-life flesh and blood. I was free to confess that as far as serving my neighbor was going, I was failing because I was pretty much neglecting my closest neighbors: my husband and my children. I was free to confess that, at the end of the day, my mood was governed by the interactions on social media.

When we got back from our walk, I felt different. I felt like the word of conviction was still working it’s resuscitating touch in the dead portions of my conscience.  I saw my phone and my computer on the counter, but I wasn’t ready to enter back in to Twitter or Facebook.  The moment I was in was still too powerful.  I grabbed my daughter’s hand, “Hey, Chicken, wanna go play with chalk?” I swooped her up and quickly carried her out back.  By the time we had exhausted both chalk and bubbles, it was lunch time and then nap time.

I closed the door to her room and took a deep, satisfying breath. You know what I’m talking about, the type of breath that reaches to the bottom of your lungs, the type of breath that demands you stand up straight in order for it to get to the bottom of your lungs, the type of breath that is intentional and reminds you that you are very much alive and that’s a pretty amazing thing.  But this breath I took had something else attached to it: freedom. The brief morning break (all in all being about 3 hours) from social media had left me with a lack of stress, frustration, preoccupation, and anxiety, and my mood had been barely altered. my mind was wonderfully present in the here and now and not in the past and future. And in that moment i became a different type of addict (let’s admit it, as far as humans go, we’re all addicted to something); in that moment I became addicted to that lack…it was the first time that lacking something brought me so much life and I wasn’t going back, it was just too damn good.

Does any of this mean that my life is now perfect because I’ve broken with constant interaction via Twitter or Facebook? No. Hell no. I’m just less burdened with self-caused anxiety and stress–my kids still do crappy things and I still respond crappily to those things. Does any of this mean I dislike social media? No. Hell no. This post just went out via twitter and I still love tweeting stuff that I’m reading or things I’ve read. I still enjoy my Facebook friends. I still love posting my pictures via Instagram. Does any of this mean that I’ve some how become more righteous. No. Just: Hell no.

What does this mean? It means that I do have more time for those who are very important to me (that includes myself). It also means (and this is the bigger point) that social media, for me, is a poison and I just can’t engage it with health. Some people can. But I can’t. A good friend said to me, when I shared this with him, “For me, social media is a poison; I just can’t do it.” I couldn’t have agreed more with how he put it. Some people can’t drink, I can’t do social media socially. Even when I’m on it now for a brief second, I can feel that beast of burden reclaiming it’s seat on my back and driving it’s tentacles deep into my conscience; I just can’t participate in it.

So, that’s my story, my confession. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing very deep. Just some words that I’ve wanted to share for a long time.  Just some words that come from a heart under conviction, steeped in gratitude toward a God who loves me so much that not one part of me goes unnoticed, and wonderfully burdened by the human condition.

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A Window into the Past: Women, Greco-Roman Society, and the Pastorals (part VI : Ephesians 5:15-33)

Ephesus in Brief

“‘Ephesian and Roman were no longer mutually exclusive categories,’ is significant for this study.  There was no substantial distinction between a major city of Asia Minor, Roman Corinth and Rome itself; such was the ready embracing of Romanization” (Ando qtd in Winter 97).  Ephesus was the “…urban hub and provincial capital of Asia”, which is now the western part of modern Turkey (Belleville 735).  Ephesus was the home to the “…temple of Artemis, the Anatolian goddess of fertility, acclaimed as one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.  In fact, the city was named the temple warden of Artemis (Acts 19:35)” (Belleville 735).  The temple cult was an important aspect to the religious and economic properties of Ephesus, so much so that there was a two-hour-long chant praising Artemis of the Ephesians (Acts 19:28-36), and the belief that “…the city possessed Artemis’s image, supposedly fallen from Jupiter (acts 19:35)” (Belleville 735).  Towner writes, “Ephesus was famed for its cult and temple dedicated to the worship of Artemis, around which a good deal of the city’s commercial interests revolved.  It also had a large Jewish colony.  Ephesus presented the gospel with a formidable challenge in that it was a center of pagan worship” (Towner 21).

Belleville comments on the appeal of the Artemis cult on women,

Artemis, it was believed, was the child of Zeus and Leto, and the sister of Apollo.  Because of the severity of her mother’s labor, Artemis never married.  Instead she turned to a male consort for company.  This made Artemis and all her female adherents superior to men.  Artemis was also seen as the mother goddess, the author  of life, the nourishers of all creatures and the power of fertility in nature.  Maidens turned to her as the protector of their virginity, barren women sought her aid, and the women in labor turned to her for help (735).

In regards to the church in Ephesus, there was a multitude of false-teaching affecting the growing church.  Belleveille explains, “…[there were at] least five components to the false teaching.  Esoteric knowledge….Asceticism….Dualis[ism]….Jewish [influence by the Circumcision group]….[and] positing of mediators through which contact between a material creation and a spiritual God was accomplished.  Christ was held up as one of them…” (Belleville 735).

Eph. 5:15-33

vv.22-25. The women of Ephesus would not have been shocked to hear the command from Paul to submit to their husbands.  How could it have been shocking? It was commonly understood that women would submit to me. However,  as Liefeld points out, the shocking news “…was that such submission now (1) was to be done for the sake of the lord (v.22) and (2) was balanced by the love of the husband even to the point of self-sacrifice (v.25)” (142).  In other words, taking our queue from Ephesians 5:21 (“submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ”) submission is now mutual. The mutuality of submission would have been the shocking news, and not that wives should submit to their husbands. Paul’s language subverts the role of Patria Potesta in a subtle yet revolutionary way.

Leifeld comments,

It is striking that there is no command here for the husband to rule his wife.  His only instruction is to love and care for her.  The husband should not claim authority over his wife the way a Roman man used to.  In that system, which underwent changes during the period of the early empire, a woman used to be under the manus (‘hand’) of the father and at marriage came under the control of her husband (Liefeld 142).

Taking into account what has been written thus far about the Greco-Roman society and the role of the father, Paul’s language in this periscope provides three extremely counter-cultural statements.  The first statement is the concept of mutual submission (just referenced briefly above).  Following the flow of thought from the Greek text, the passive verb translated here as “submit” is from v.21; therefore the context is mutual submission and not only the submission of wives to husbands.

The second statement is enveloped in the phrase, “…as to the Lord.”  Paul is supplying the proper realm of submission for the wives; wives are not simply and blindly submitting to the authority of the Patria Potestas  they are submitting to the Lord, the one who has authority over the earth (Eph. 2)—the true King and Emperor of the world, the true Divine Son.   Paul’s use of the societal house-code, which required submission of wives to husbands, women to men, is not advocating the societal standards, but is placing this infant church in a realm that is to be submitted to the true authority that is in Christ Jesus.

The third statement is the command for husbands to love their wives (v.25).  As my friend Brian McVey commented, in a lecture on the use of Eros and Agape within Greek literature, and the understanding of these two terms, the command that Paul gives to the husbands would be to love their wives in way that was pouring out from them rather than loving something because of a need or lack within themselves (eros).  Marcus Barth contends that the use of agape in v.25 is the wedding together of Eros and Agape (which, as McVey pointed out, could be the understanding of hesed); that husbands were to love their wives in such a way would have been counter-cultural in the Greco-Roman society (621).  “For the first time in Ephesians the term ‘love’ (agapaō) includes the erotic relationship and sexual union by which a man and a woman become ‘one flesh” (M. Barth 621).

Also, it’s worth pointing out again (because I’ve said it before in this post here) the following about our passage:

Considering that in Ephesians 5. In v. 21 the verb translated as “submitting” is the verb that is pulled into the subsequent verse (v.22) when Paul turns his attention to wives: submit to your husbands. Then, after only three short thoughts, he turns to the husbands and addresses them in a rather lengthy discourse starting with an exhortation to lay down their lives for their wives. This is less of a change of subject and more of a addressing a different audience. Paul uses different language to say something similar to the husbands as he did to the wives.

But, the question remains, why change the language?

My thought about the “why” is this: Paul speaks to the women in terminology they would’ve existentially understood–the language they would’ve been familiar with but also because of the woman’s ability (and in the case of Paul’s age) one of her primary functions in bringing forth life into the world: a woman, having gone through the experience of pregnancy, labor, delivery, and caring for a helpless child, would have been well acquainted with the event of submission as a laying down of their life, of loving something/someone form the inside out that can give nothing back in return (agape). I’m not saying that Paul had this later aspect on the forefront of his mind, but it’s intriguing to me that he speaks nearly in shorthand to the wives. Thus, what he says to the women, is not radical: it’s nearly status quo; they would’ve nodded ” oh yes, we understand.” But what’s radical is what follows with his discussion to the men. The feeling in the transition from talking to the wives to the husbands is as if he paused and said to the husbands: all y’all best sit down for this; i’m about to blow your minds. And thus enters into a longer explanation of how the husbands are to love (agape) their wives and live out the “submitting one to another” aspect of 5.21. Both the act and the concept would have been so radical to the husbands, that Paul essentially has to spell it out for them and even then Paul loses his own mind and gets caught up–nearly raptured–in the mysteries he can’t even explain well enough. So, in short, my thoughts have been that Paul had to explain in detail (agape worked out in submission to another (the wife)) to the husbands because it was radical and foreign, and he could speak plainly and briefly to the women, because they would’ve understood (per the reasons mentioned above).

In regards to the use of “head” in this periscope, Liefeld writes,

The meaning of head in this context is…crucial….The Greek language did not assign as strong a leadership/authority meaning to kephalē as the Hebrew apparently did to ros and the Latin to caput.  Because of the strong connotation of caput, it was easy for the Latin Church fathers to interpret head in this passage strongly. The most common word for ‘head’ in Hebrew was rō’š.  When pre-Christian Jewish scholars translated the Old Testament into Greek (the Septuagint or LXX), they sometimes avoided the normal Greek word kephalē when the Hebrew rō’š meant rule or authority (as in the word leader) and used instead a stronger synonym such as archon.  If kephalē had the unambiguous, univocal meaning of rule or authority, this would not have been necessary” (Liefeld 144).

Therefore, it is best to not understand the use of kephalē in this periscope as “rule or authority”; but, referring back to 1 Cor. 11:3-16 (posted here), as “preeminent, foremost, and synecdoche for a representative whole” (Thisleton 821).

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A View of the Image of God from Motherhood (musings) Part II

This past Sunday was Mother’s day. I love Mother’s day. I love it even though I know how much of a “Hallmark” holiday it is. I just love it. I love the way my children bounce into our bed, bearing their school-made gifts. I (expletive + ing) LOVE gifts, especially from my boys. I love seeing what they have to say, and at 8 and 6, they say crazy awesome stuff. This year I got a Pokemon card from my 8 year old, and from my 6 year old, a laminated picture and written paragraph about the things he loves about me.

My 6 year old writes some pretty amazing and fairly deep statements; no surprise really, since he’s always been that deep thinker. By 2, we dubbed him the “Wandering Sage” because he would randomly spout off wise advice or deep thoughts. One day he woke up and while rubbing his eyes, said, “No one should run with scissors.” One day he was doing his gymnastic stunts off a big, over-stuffed chair, stopped mid tumble, sat upright, and said, “Mama, everything about war is wrong.” One day he explained to me how the seed and the egg formed the baby I was carrying in my womb; he was eerily close and only 4.  Last year he wrote me this: I love you because you love me! It’s like he was reading 1 John 4 the night before.

This year, written at the tail end of the list of things that he loves about me, he wrote, “Your smile makes me loved and feel happy.”

My eyes have reread those words everyday since I taped that laminated picture and paragraph up in my “office” (aka: The Kitchen).  In my skeptical adult wounded state, I would’ve said, “Your smile makes me feel loved…” Leaving room for the doubt that you don’t really love me, because I know smiles can sometimes be fake. So, there’s a difference between feeling loved and belovedness. To this child, though, my smile declares to him: beloved.

The power of a mother’s smile.

My smile…the smile that comes across my face when they come in from being at school all day; the smile that cuts through the tension filled bedroom because someone was being a total grumpy pants; the smile that can’t contain itself when they do ridiculous things during a tantrum; the smile that–often–ushers them off to dreamland and awaits for the dawn to greet them again; the smile that assures them that even right in the midst of their crap, they are loved, they are the beloved.

And this leads me to discuss what conclusion I’m drawing about the image of God from the view of motherhood.  It’s the power of the mother’s smile–from the moment that baby is born to the moment that mother stops walking upon the earth–that declares belovedness to the child. And I believe that the power is there, in the mother’s smile, because it’s she who has been most intimate with the child (she knows him), the one who has provided comfort from day one (she is the voice and the smell that brings her comfort). It’s her smile that conveys not just “I am happy with you” or “I have learned you and find you amusing” but sustains the original love, the state of belovedness.  The very one who bore you, who handed herself over for you, who stared death in the face to get you here smiles upon you  and you are loved.

Am I still the beloved? Yes, dear child, you are.

The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. (Numbers 6:24-26).

God has smiled upon us; and it’s a smile that will never stop. Through His son, our saviour Jesus Christ, he has declared to the entire world that He loves us so much and that He desires us so much to know that we are the beloved. His face, through His son, is shining upon us and is gracious to us; His countenance is upon us and gives us peace because of Jesus. And while my smile stops many times a day, His never stops. Because His smile upon you and upon me is based on His perfect love for us apart from our deeds (both good and bad) because of the totality of the work of Christ. God’s smile is forever upon you, right here, right now, right where you are–clean or dirty, put together or falling apart, sober or drunk, pure or defiled.  The very One who created you, the very One who handed himself over for you, the very One who reckoned with death and won to silence death once and for all and to bring you to Himself, smiles upon you and you are loved.

Am I still the beloved?  Yes, dear child you are and always will be.

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barely alive and barely breathing

I am convinced that all real change and transformation in our lives, all the real and tangible knowledge of who God is, and undeterred faith is borne not out of sheer positive determination to know but out of the very dark, dark moments in our lives. Positive determination creates a situation where it has to be re-fabricated at another time, thus rendering it unsustainable; but what we learn about God and his love for us in the dark, when we are near death, revealed to us by the power of the Spirit (because we know we couldn’t have created these things ourselves), those are the events that create truly altered attitudes and stances and praises and thanksgivings that stay with us forever and ever….because those attitudes and stances were created out of nothing by God (because we have and are nothing). In the darkness of depression, we have not the strength or the voice or the heart to praise God; we are brought nearly dead and lifeless to Him. And it is He who breathes life back into our lifeless bones and after we inhale His life-giving breath, we exhale His praise.

When we know God by night, we will certainly know him by day.

I speak not naively but from experience. I’ve known God in the midst of the darkest depression I’ve ever experienced a few years ago. The following is a testimony/sermon produced out of that depression.

I’m coming out of a season decked with many losses and failures, and enveloped by severe depression. In early April we lost my husband’s grandmother; five weeks later, my grandmother; five days later our 9.5 week pregnancy. In June we lost our financial footing because of a van that couldn’t pass inspection. In September we lost a significant job opportunity that had given us great hope; a week after that, our other car was stolen for amusement and with the intent to destroy it. Finally, in October, I was confronted, boldly, with the reality that I was failing (and hurting, inadvertently) a dear friend and our friendship. All of this mixed in with months of struggle with my oldest son—who repeatedly hit me, threatened me (as much as a 3.5 year old can), and telling me he just flat out didn’t like me.

Losing and failing. Each one of these events that I was experiencing is normal and even tolerable; but, the cumulative effect and the weight of all of them at once…and…the depression that I was trying my best to ward off, finally won. I slipped into a very dark spot. I couldn’t take it any more. There was no joy in my heart and every heartbeat actually caused me physical pain. I cried every day, often crying myself to sleep. My mind fluctuated between the twin thoughts: “God has turned his face from you” and “you are a complete and utter useless failure.” And in that darkness, I gave up. At one point I curled up on a bare mattress in a room we are renovating and pulled a blanket over myself, and wished it would be over. Please just let it be over. I felt barely alive; I could barely breathe.

And it’s from here, right here, from this very palpable darkness, this having given up, and rendered useless, this barely alive and barely breathing, that I can talk about the power of the Gospel preached. Because the Gospel preached to me—repeatedly—cut through that darkness; it boldly penetrated it—unashamedly and unabashedly, it burst in and seized me. It lay hold of my weak and feeble frame, my exhausted mind, my smoldering and bruised spirit and rescued me, and, maybe even more than that, the Gospel resuscitated me, it gave me faith, it gave me life. Throughout all of the darkness and despite the lack of any tangible assurance, I still believed in God; this very God who is merciful and unyielding in His love; who, by the life of His one and only Son, through the event of the incarnation and the cross, has declared “it will not always be so.” Darkness, depression, sorrow, suffering, grief, and pain have been given their verdict: no; and I mine: yes. Every Sunday, I heard the Gospel and I could not not raise my hands in praise and worship of this God who has done this great work for me and in me. By the power of the Gospel I was made one hundred percent aware of my total and utter and desperate need for the Cross, for Jesus; by the power of the Gospel, I’ve been made truly human because, by the power of the Gospel, out of sure death came new and true life, with the robust breath of faith.

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Absolved Motherhood

A few weeks ago there was a study* that concluded that mothers who work shouldn’t feel guilty because their children turn out just as well as children whose mothers did stay home with them. This is good news. I hate that my friends feel guilty who work and feel bad for working and not being home with their children. I’ve long held the belief that if you want to work then work, if you have to work then work, if you want to stay home and can, do it. You any of those very things.  I’ve never believed that because I stay home with my three children that they’ll be some sort of super-humans; but then again, my theology prevents me from believing such lies about motherhood and parenting.

Lies that have come into existence because the axiom has shifted from God to humans and when that shift occurred there was a vacuum and like any good vacuum something was sucked into the void: parenting. If we no longer look to God, then we default to looking to ourselves (I think therefore I am (Descartes) and I have no need for that hypothesis (Leplace about God)).  And, if it’s up to us then we must get to the core of human society and how to keep it going and even evolve it and that is how we end up with the idolatry of parent-hood and parenting. If you don’t want your child to grow up to be a  sociopath/psychopath then you should _____!  For your child to be truly compassionate and intelligent you must never____! I’ve seen this line of thought coming from both traditional and attachment parenting blogs and websites (my husband and I fall in the weird conundrum of both traditional and attachment parenting techniques).  The onus of a productive and good society falls heavy on the fleshy, bony shoulders of weak men and women: if you do this parenting thing right, we’ll not only keep society running, we’ll improve it!

Lies. Horrible horrendous lies.

But what bothered me most about this study and the hype about it was that there was this implicit conclusion that I, as a stay at home mom, somehow feel less guilty because I stay at home.

Lies!

I feel guilty day in and day out. I feel guilty just as much as my friends who work (it might be different, but I doubt the level is any different). I feel guilty because I fail my children daily. I feel guilty because I’m aware that I’m not treating these three human beings, who God has placed in my hands to care for, perfectly.  The reality is that I don’t need a parenting manual to tell me I’m failing, because as soon as my voice raises and that anger over-comes me and I grit my teeth, I know I’m failing.  We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves, first and foremost those who are quite literally bone of our bones and flesh of our flesh and this command I fail daily.  From my experience, motherhood (parenthood at large) is naturally inclined toward guilt. I could search every town in every state looking for that one non-guilt-ridden mother, and I’d come up empty. Facade or not, parents are guilt ridden.

And that brings me to my main point. The hard news we don’t want to hear is this: we are all failing as parents. Failure is failure is failure. Working or staying home, we are all failing our kids because we’re broken human beings. At night, when I lay my head on my pillow, my shoulders are no less burdened by guilt and regret than a mother who works.

Guilt is guilt is guilt.

And it doesn’t matter how many studies are published that say x or y about parenting and guilt and that I shouldn’t have it; none of it alleviates my guilty feelings, my guilty conscience, cleans my blood stained hands. At the end of the day, the only thing–and I mean: The. Only. Thing.–that takes that guilt from me is the absolution proclaimed to me from the Gospel, which is the gospel of the justification of sinners. Jesus Christ died for all of my failures as a mother, all of your failures as a mother or father, and he was raised for our justification (Rom. 4:25). By faith in Christ we are united to Christ and what is His (righteousness, not guilty, beloved) becomes ours (it is imputed to us) to such an extent that we are indistinguishable from it; just as, on the cross, what is ours (sin, guilt, unbelovedness) became His–Jesus became sin (it was imputed to Him) to such an extent that He was indistinguishable from it. And this entire event (or exchange) is ours by faith in Jesus Christ and not by works of the law; we are entirely justified by faith in Jesus Christ apart from works.  All of me–all of you–now is determined by faith in Christ and not by works of the law.

In the event of justification by faith in Christ, your guilty status is revoked for good and replaced with the status of not guilty. In the event of justification by faith in Christ, in His word of absolution to you, your guilt (all of it) is actually taken from you because in the word of absolution you are recreated not guilty, you are recreated forgiven, you are recreated beloved. In the event of justification and by the word of absolution you stand as one who is not guilty, who is forgiven, and who is beloved.

It is this word of absolution, and only this word of absolution, that will ever take away our guilt for real.

*There were some holes poked in the research supporting the study. On a podcast I listen to produced by Slate, Mom and Dad are Fighting, I heard that the comparisons were drawn between stay at home mothers in the 70’s and working moms of today. I mention this not to discredit the conclusion (mothers who want to/have to work shouldn’t be burdened by guilt of some abstracted idealistic version of motherhood that is fairyland) but to say that I’m aware of the errors.

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A View of the Image of God from Motherhood (musings) Part I

I’m a mom. I think about being a mom a lot. It makes sense. I’m also a theologian (budding). Thus, I think about God a lot. And, that makes a lot of sense, too. Often, these two realms overlap and I find myself holding my toddler, nursing her, and thinking about aspects of God and His work toward us, specifically (as of late) the image of God as it is manifested by both man and woman in unity. And I often find my thoughts wondering in this direction: what unique thing does woman bring to the image of God (keeping in mind that there’s a reason for making humanity in the image of God both male and female)? And–as radical as it may sound, as liberal as it may sound–what can I know about God by being a mother? What about motherhood uniquely represents the image of God? For part of my woman-ness is the ability to carry life within me, to birth that life, to sustain that life, so I wonder, what of those experiences points me to a unique aspect of the image of God?

And this is what I want to ponder over a few posts: The view of the image of God from motherhood.

Before I begin, I want to stress that the image of God is fully represented by the man and the woman (neither one carries more of the image than the other, both, together, carry the image of God uniquely and generally). And, I also want to stress that the image is fully represented by a man and a woman who do not have children. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t something in motherhood and in fatherhood (though, I’m only speaking of motherhood here because I’m not a father) that can be the environment where the image gets pushed to the surface, visibly so; like, the difference between being 8 weeks pregnant and 38 weeks pregnant. This doesn’t make motherhood and fatherhood the end all and be all of Christian/Human achievements in life; they’re not. I am not a better Christian woman because I am a wife and a mother. I’m merely a Christian woman who is a wife and a mother and that’s the platform from which I’m speaking, that’s the lens I’m using now to peer into, to understand more of the image of God.

With that disclaimer out of the way, let’s begin…

Something occurred to me recently, when I was dealing with my daughter. She was screaming at me. I mean, screaming and shoving me (she’s very strong for 18 mos) and it was pure anger on her part because she was not getting something she wanted. Now, if I were screaming at you and shoving you you’re reaction, rightly, would be to walk away. Now, sometimes I do walk away, catch my breath, check my rage. But, oddly, I come back. I come back to her, mid tantrum and I bend low and pick her up in my arms and hold her (still full tantrum).  Vocal chords at full impact and limbs flailing wildly, I go to her and bring her closer to me. Not farther, but closer. This is what most mothers do in many circumstances. They go toward the child that is hating them.

I can’t help it. Even when it’s bad–and my toddler can get bad, we’ve nicknamed her “The Fury”–even when I do have to walk away, I can’t walk away completely. My heart is still turned toward her, desires her, loves her, craves her. And I will return to her within minutes.  There’s an actual chemical change that occurs in the woman’s brain the moment she becomes pregnant that forever changes her brain chemistry (she’ll never be the same again) that causes her to go toward her screaming child. This is something naturally unique to women, though men can experience the same change but only by “practice”, by being proactive in childcare, hands on with baby and their brains will begin to change too. But ours change the moment (or the moments before) we see that + on the pregnancy test. We are, from that moment on, hard wired to go toward our children. (Not all women have this chemical change, but it is very common.)

[Like] a mother comforts her child, so will I [God] comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem (Isa. 66:13).

This movement towards my child who is hating me is something I marvel at because it so much a part of God’s character. God, unyielding, moves toward those who hate him, toward his enemies. Like a mother, hard wired to move toward his children, the ones he loves, the ones he desires, the ones he craves even when they are yelling at him and thrusting angry fists into the sky. Like a mother, he pulls us in close to him, holds us, comforts us, and soothes us with His tender voice–the voice we’ve known since conception–and his warm words: I love you, I love you, I love you.

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A Window into the Past: Women, Greco-Roman Society, and The Pastorals (pt. v:1 Cor 14:33b-35)

1 Cor. 14: 33b-35

vv.33b-35. Within two chapters Paul* has gone from allowing women to prophesy and pray in church as long as they wore a symbol of authority—a head covering—to saying that women should not speak in church.  What is the cultural situation behind Paul’s statement?  Keener observes that although “Women had made serious gains in terms of public speaking in Roman culture…some Romans and many Greeks still frowned on it, potentially introducing cultural conflict in the church again.  Some would consider women’s speech in gender-mixed company ‘shameful’ (14:35), just like public display of wives’ uncovered hair (11:5-6)” (118).  Keener suggests that Paul, who had submitted to ‘the law” before (1 Cor. 9:20) is doing so here in order to not cause offense, “Wifely submission remained an ideal in his day…especially in terms of behavior to avoid shaming ones husband (14;35; cf. 11:5-6) (Keener 118).

In Greek society, Greek women were “…discouraged from saying anything in public.  Plutarch says that the virtuous woman ‘ought to be modest and guarded about saying anything in the hearing of outsiders’ (Advice to Bride and Groom, 31); again, ‘a woman ought to do her talking either to her husband or through her husband’ (ibid., 32)” (Morris 197).  And, according to Morris, “The Jews regarded it as a sin to teach a woman, and the position was not much better elsewhere” (198).  As the Gospel was the message of true freedom and liberation for women, women of the ancient society would be learning in the setting of the church.  Since the majority of women were not as educated as men, it is plausible to assume that they were asking many questions.  Keener writes,

…many hearers resented questions considered rude, inappropriate, or unlearned; these risked slowing other learners down.  It is possible, although not certain, the women were more apt to ask unlearned questions.  Although Judean boys learned to recite the law growing up (m. ‘Abbot 5:21), the privilege was rarer among girls even in regions where some are attested.  Literate men may have outnumbered literate women five to one, and even among aristocratic Greeks and Romans, where education was most widely available, a woman’s education usually ended by her mid-teens (Keener 119).

On the same note, Keener observes that husbands though their wives incapable of understanding “intellectual ideas” (119).  Referring to Plutarch, Keener writes,

…Plutarch notes that he is exceptional in advising a groom that his bride can learn (but then adds his own sexist twist, arguing that women if left to themselves produce only base passions; Bride 48, Mor. 145BE)….Because of conversions often followed household (cf. 1:16; 16:15) most of the wives Paul addresses would in fact have husbands who had heard the teaching and prophecies (although clearly this was not always the case; 7:12-16; cf. 1 Pet 3:1) (119).

Therefore, Paul is not necessarily abiding by a subjugating law that does not allow women, specifically wives, to never speak in Church, but is constituting an orderliness to the gathering.  In light of his society and how that society had been treating women, Paul addressed the situation with seemliness and proper conduct, but in the freedom of Christ.

And, remember, what’s important here is this (and I’m quoting Sarah Ruden at length):

But whatever the exact standards of anyone involved here, modern readers tend to come at [this] passage in 1 Corinthians from the wrong angle. It would not have been remarkable that women were forbidden to speak among the Christians. It’s remarkable that they were speaking in the first place. It’s remarkable that they were even there, in an ekklesia, perhaps for all kinds of worship and deliberation, and that their questions needed answers, if not on the spot. Paul’s negativity–even his typical snapping about authority–is extremely modest against the polytheistic background (Paul Among the People, 81).

Women were THERE. Women were SPEAKING, ASKING questions, and being HEARD. Let’s not miss the gem here.

*I’m going with the tradition understanding that Paul wrote _all_ of Corinthians even this. I’m aware of the many arguments for and against Pauline authorship here (some considering it to be a gloss, added by a redactor later in time). 

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The Silence of Saturday

On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.  Luke 23:56b

John, in his gospel, records that Jesus’ last words from the cross on Friday were, “It is finished” (19:30). Luke records, “Father into your hands I commit my spirit” (23:46b). Both Matthew and Mark have recorded as Jesus’ last words, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (Matt 27:46b; Mark 15:34b). These records of Jesus’ last words from the cross have always brought me immeasurable comfort. But then again, I know the full story. My eyes dart from the “it is finished” in John to the “Now on the first day of the week” of the resurrection story located just  a few inches lower on the page.

Chronologically speaking, I’m missing an entire day as I read along in my bible: the Sabbath. And, technically, that’s today: the day in between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  I jump ahead to the end because I have the end to jump to, I never sit here, in Saturday, in the silence, in the doubt of what had just happened. I rush from getting Easter baskets ready to planning how I’m going to execute Easter dinner while throwing a quick thought to where we’re going to go to church Easter morning.

The reality is: I’m not worried and so I don’t ever think about today: Saturday, the day before Easter, the day before the whole story would unfold.

But maybe we should think of it, consider it, stop and just imagine this day 2000+ years ago. For those who followed Jesus and loved Him and believed (by the power of the Holy Spirit) that he was the long awaited Messiah, this day was filled with nothing but doubt, filled with questions, maybe even despair and feeling abandoned. Was it all for naught? Was He lying? Was it some big ruse, some horrible joke? Were we duped?” Even as I type this blog post, my hands shake a little and tears form in the corners of my eyes; my heart can’t handle this day, my  mind is weighed down imagining what those brothers and sisters of mine suffered emotionally, spiritually, physically, mentally…Jesus had died…what now?

Imagine with me for a moment. Imagine tear soaked eyes looking up at Jesus dead on the cross. Imagine hearts torn in two like the temple veil, hope and expectation fleeing forth like birds out of a cage as they take his body down from the cross. Imagine minds in a panic, racing with questions and burdened with fear as the tomb is sealed shut. Imagine returning home just before dusk, entering into the Sabbath and rather than resting, you’re weeping; rather than worshiping God you’re questioning Him.

Imagine entering into 36 hours of the darkest dark night of the soul you’ve ever experienced.

While all of heaven, on that Saturday, waited with bated breath and excitement for the giving of the greatest gift ever given, for the fulfillment of God’s glorious promises, for Jesus to be raised from the dead, thus defeating it forever…

…on Earth…

…there was just…

…silence.

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