Category: Women

Choice Words: Why Choice Matters When it Comes to Love.

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I heard something last month (the month that in the last five years has undergone a cultural name change from June to Pride) that shook me deeply because it was fundamentally and experientially incorrect.  Someone said:

“You don’t choose who you love.”

My mind and heart in that instant both rose in defiance of this idea, an idea that has been gaining popularity in recent years.  I knew instantly that it was a dangerous notion, and a concept that can have detrimental effects on the younger generation, and thoroughly confuse those of us who know better.

An internet search on the word “choice” in regard to feeling proves to be even more confusing.  There are a myriad of theories of how choice factors into love.  But the popular opinion now amidst the LGBTQ community and their supporters, is that one has no control over who they love, that they are at the mercy of their feelings, that they cannot reign over their thoughts or behaviors.  It is unclear whether they really believe this or if it is something that they grab onto because it gives them a sense of affirmation and peace.

And to a degree, I get it.  If one does not know Christ, does not have a renewed mind and heart as is promised in the scriptures, (Romans 12:2, Ezekiel 36:26, Jeremiah 24:7) then what else does a person have to rely on but their own emotions?  What else could possibly guide them than their feelings and their misguided heart?

But even by society’s definition and standards, this reasoning begins to crumble in other scenarios. 

 First, what do these same people have to use as a defense for adultery if it’s true that one doesn’t choose who they love?  I would argue that people still have a delineated moral line that cannot be crossed when it comes to cheating.  Regardless of your sexual orientation or preference or relationship status or religion, most people agree that cheating is wrong.  It hurts people; it breaks hearts, it destroys marriages and families, it creates deep wounds in children that color their perspective and darken their view of love, it ruins friendships and brings division even in the workplace.  It is clear in these circumstances that there is some expectation that you hold fast to your commitments, that you can’t just follow your feelings and use the excuse that you couldn’t help it when you’re unfaithful.

Second, this same group of progressives will be the first to use “choice” as the foundation of their argument when supporting abortion as a right.  Once a woman becomes pregnant by her choice to have sex (in all cases except 1% according to research by the Guttmacher Institute), she champions choice when deciding to end her baby’s life because it is inconvenient for her.  She has allies in virtually every corner telling her that choice is king.  But in this arena, choice is definitely not loving, because love here would require sacrifice, inconvenience, and hardship.  The mention of irresistible, unstoppable love is nowhere to be found in defense of the unborn child.

Yet sacrificial love and choice is the intrinsic essence of the Gospel, the very basis of Christianity.  And this is why Christians must learn to see love and choice through a biblical lens, to memorize God’s definitions of the words.  In studying the scriptures, one finds that it is an irrefutable fact that God’s love for us was both a feeling AND a choice–a feeling because He Himself IS love perfected and he created us out of an overflow of love, and a choice because we were unlovable.  After the fall, each one of us was born into sin and on a rebellious track to destruction until God in His mercy chose to save us through the most painful, sacrifical choice imaginable.

2 Thessalonians 2:13

“But we ought always to give thanks to God for you, brothers beloved by the Lord, because God chose you as the firstfruits to be saved, through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in the truth.”

John 15:16

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.

Romans 5:8

“But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

John 6:44

“No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. And I will raise him up on the last day.”

Deuteronomy 14:2

“For you are a people holy to the Lord your God, and the Lord has chosen you to be a people for his treasured possession, out of all the peoples who are on the face of the earth.”

1 Peter 2:9

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”

John 3:16

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”

Even if the sacred truth and mystery of God’s grace and choice were not clearly spelled out for me throughout the Bible, I would learn the daily reality of choice in love from my own marriage.  Initially, feelings, attraction, and similarities drew me and my husband together, but it wasn’t long before we had our first fight, then our second, then faced enough repeated difficulties in our 15 years of marriage that have shown me that loving him, being loving toward him, is a daily choice.  Some days the choice is as easy as breathing, but other days it takes my commitment to Jesus alone to keep me from walking out the door. 

And a few years ago, during a season of temptation,when my feelings were pulling me away emotionally and mentally from my husband, I had to recognize the very dangerous reality of what following my carnal desires would do to my marriage, my children, my parents, siblings, friendships and community. Blindly bowing to my whim would have been foolish and destructive, and no one would have believed that I lacked the self control or wisdom to make a better decision. Daily, I chose to quote scripture, pray, deny those feelings and chose instead the life that God had gifted me, one that glorified Him and not myself.

It’s on these days that I have to know the Word, to listen to the Holy Spirit remind me of the sacrificial love that God demonstrated for me, a love I could never earn or deserve–to understand that I don’t even deserve my husband’s devoted and imperfect love, and that it is his choice to love me as well. 

And I’m so grateful that he chose me and continues to choose me every day.  Because for all the times that my feelings try to lie to me, on those lackluster or boring days, there are just as many, nay more, days that I am overwhelmed with love and joy and gratitude for the person I get to choose to love.  And that’s when I can’t imagine feeling any other way.  

“Joy in the Work”—a podcast review.

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Linking to an article on Christian Woman & Co Magazine, a podcast review of Episode 3, “Joy in the Work” on the “Is That Like a Thing” podcast by Christian/Country recording artist Crystal Yates, singer Magen Thurman and artist/writer Becky Leach.

In this podcast and in my article we discuss the difference between happiness and joy, gratitude and entitlement, success and the process. Enjoy!

Finding Joy in Your Work

Not Your Average Beauty Blog Post

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Hi ladies, how are you?  I’m saying “ladies” because with a title with the word “beauty” at its center, it’s likely that there aren’t any guys reading this.  But, who knows, there could be.  So.  For you random men checking in, perhaps you’ll stick around until the end of this blog post and gain some insight into the psyche of your wife/girlfriend/fiance/adult daughter.

Beauty is one of those polarizing, controversial topics these days.  It’s something that women, that people, aren’t supposed to care about anymore, but one glance at YouTube, Etsy, Pinterest, the check-out line at your local supermarket or pharmacy, the plethora of products on the shelves at Ulta and Sephora tells you that we still REALLY do.  Not only do we care about beauty, we worship it, we strive and spend to prolong it as long as possible.

Yet we aren’t supposed to discuss it.  Women are not supposed to care about or comment upon the beauty they see in another woman, lest it portray them as petty or competitive or insecure.  Men dare not admire or remark upon a woman’s beauty, lest they be labeled lascivious, patriarchal or shallow.  Women are privately maligned or criticized for either not doing enough with their looks, or for paying them too much attention.  And this is one area that all women eventually migrate to in their focus, regardless of their age, ethnicity, career path, religious affiliation, economic status, political preference.

One has to ask WHY that is?  Well, as a woman who believes very strongly in a loving and wise Creator, I think one reason is because God enjoys beauty.  I think it brought (and brings) Him great joy to see the beauty in His creation–in the hues of the sunrise and sunset; the intricate design of each snowflake falling from the sky, of each sand-dollar washed onto the beach; the colors of the trees across a mountainside in the Fall; the regal feathers of the peacock; the patchwork of fields and swirl of mountaintops beneath you when you’re flying in an airplane; the sinewy body of a wild horse, and in the people He has made to carry His image.

Now, this is the part where I usually include some scripture that backs up my opinion.  But this time, I actually couldn’t find anything in the Bible to support my theory that God loves beauty.  I only believe that He does because of what I’ve observed in nature and in my opinion that the design of the human form is inherently beautiful because it reflects the image of God.

If we look carefully, we can see God’s intention in His creation of beautiful things, and the deliberate omission of attention to beauty throughout scripture.  In avoiding the topic, He is making a point: beauty is all around us and is a marker of His glory, it deserves our admiration as it points us back to Him.  But it is not to be worshiped, idolized, or to become our obsession or place of value.  Conversely, it is also foolish for us to pretend that beauty has no place in society when God himself invented the concept.

But we’ve cheapened it.  I’ve cheapened it.  And in doing so, we’re hearkening back to the very thing that got Satan in trouble and bought him a one-way ticket out of Heaven in the first place.  He saw that he was beautiful and he began to worship his beauty, to identify with it and to imbue it with a false power. (Ezekiel 28: 12-19)

And when I read every scripture passage about beauty since the fall of Lucifer, I see a warning.  I see warnings about the focus we place on beauty, the time we spend praising it, seeking it, desiring it, then mourning its loss, denying it, vilifying it, pretending it doesn’t exist.  The warning is repeated throughout scripture, because whether we paint beauty in a positive or negative light, the space and attention it gets in our female minds is space and attention that we are not giving our beautiful Lord.  So that’s another reason I think that we all tend to hone in on beauty–because the enemy tends to use it as a distraction to turn our praise away from the Creator.

And listen, I am guilty of this.  It’s why I’m writing this post, and it is not easy for me to be vulnerable about this topic.  Vanity is a true struggle for me–there, I admitted it.  There are parts of my body that I’ve been proud to have throughout my life.  There are parts of my body that have been the source of much complaining, that I’ve wished weren’t there.  And in recent years I’ve begun to see a change in the physical attributes of mine that I would call “strengths.”  And the change has not been welcome.  As this year marked my 41st trip around the sun, I am seeing the orbital pull on my skin–that it is not as tight, taut, smooth or spot-free as it once was.  My hair is not as thick.  My muscle takes longer to tone and more easily hides behind fat.  My nails are becoming more brittle and my stamina is flagging.  When I was in my teens, 20s and early 30s, I think I secretly believed that I would never show signs of aging.  The realization that it really is happening to me, that the appearance that I have become so familiar with and grown to appreciate is wavering and fading, is a pivotal point.

Here is where I, and many women, grapple.  Here is where I begin to understand the message that Paul preaches about contentment in Philippians 4:10-13.  The world would try to persuade me to prolong my youth, to not let my beauty suffer because of aging.  It pushes medical creams, organic serums, and various aesthetic treatments to try to sell me the lie that I can retain my youth, that I can improve upon something God has designed according to His will.  It turns something God inhibits in Himself into a sinful distraction of discontentment.  (And you can hear that the world also tries to convince us that beauty means youth, not maturity).  But, my choice and my challenge is to listen instead to the Lord, whose message, although I struggle to accept it, is that I’m still imaging Him as I age, in my peaceful acceptance of the order of His design.  The gradual loss of young beauty reveals the condition of my heart and the strength of my identity in Christ.

I did not write this blog post to fish for compliments.  I wrote it to acknowledge the question that every woman asks, either out loud or to herself: “am I beautiful?”  And to answer this question and close this blog post, I think it’s worth our time to turn our attention to the creation story in Genesis chapter 1.  When God created Adam and Eve, the crown jewel of His creation, they were described in this way:

“So, God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them…God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.” (Genesis 1: 27, 31).

That should be enough, for you and for me.  To carry the honor of imaging God in exactly how He made us, knowing that when He sees us, He thinks that we are very good.  We carry His creative fingerprint in the gender that He has assigned to us, the hair we have, the tone of our skin, the sound of our voice, and the natural changes that occur in our bodies as we grow.   To try to downplay or exceed His work is an act of rebellion itself, yet enjoying and appreciating how He has crafted us is an act of praise.

So yes, ladies, you are beautiful because you were beautifully made.   Rest in that fact, but when you begin to doubt, trust the One who made you to reassure you of the wonderful beauty that He sees in you when it seems that the world has turned its gaze to lesser things.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” (Psalm 139:14

 

 

 

 

Party On–Joy in the Face of Judgment

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I have an annual tradition for Mother’s Day that began about five years ago.  Every year, I throw a party for my local mommy-friends.  We gather without husbands and children with no purpose other than to celebrate the one thing that we all have in common—being mothers.  I can always tell that those who are new to the party aren’t sure what to expect because there’s no agenda at all.  I’m not trying to sell Pampered Chef, Norwex or Lula Roe.  I’m not raising money for a charity.  We’re not throwing a baby shower for anyone, and most difficult for these sweet women to wrap their heads around is that I don’t need them to bring anything.  They are so accustomed to helping and serving that showing up to something empty-handed, and then consuming food and drink, seems selfish.

And that’s exactly why I do this.  Moms throw parties for their children.  They bring food to families welcoming newborn babies, struggling with serious illness or recovering from surgeries, or mourning a loss.  They are always so busy working, working working—inside and outside their homes, that they often forget how it feels to enjoy their own brand of fun.

My Mother’s Day parties have varied in their style and size over the years.  One was a fancy brunch, several were evening parties with lots of snacks and wine and a chick-flick about motherhood.  We’ve played funny ice-breaker games at a couple, and at my first one I asked everyone to bring photos of them with their mothers or of them with their children.  But one thing that all my parties have had in common is an interesting blend of women.

My friendship spheres sometimes intersect, but many times they don’t, and what I love about my parties is that they are comprised of women from many different countries: Americans, Brits, South Africans, Canadians, Swiss, Australians, Luxembourgers, Belgians.  They’ve been comprised of women with different religious beliefs: Atheists, Christians and Muslims.  I’ve invited moms I’ve met through church, mom’s groups, the gym, my neighborhood, my children’s’ school, and through some very random connections.  I’ve invited women from different ethnic backgrounds.  And the beauty of this gathering is to see them begin to open up to one another as they laugh and relax, to watch them discover the things that they have in common with each other as they gather as mothers.  In a world where we tend to congregate with those groups of people who are most like us, what I seek to provide in this environment is an opportunity for the Lord to reveal His nature in the surprise that comes when we find a kindred spirit in someone we may never have spoken to otherwise.

But this year, when I decided to go with a Zumba theme for my party, I discovered that Phariseeism is alive and well. I know that my party idea this year was a little unusual, but it’s very frustrating when people assume the worst about something you’re doing simply because they misjudge your intentions.  Because I know that God desires hearts and community, I knew that He could even use my Zumba party to spark conversations about Him, and to build friendships that can lead to testimonies of His goodness.

On the outside looking in, apparently that wasn’t the conclusion for some people.  They questioned the holiness of Zumba-style dancing—even though there were no men around for women to grind on, and no children to influence one way or another.  They questioned the lyrics of the song choices—even though I went over and over the playlist to ensure there were no offensive curse words or extremely suggestive lyrics.  They questioned the fact that I served alcohol—even though almost every gathering in the Bible involved wine because it’s a social beverage, and I barely served enough for my guests to have more than two drinks.

And I don’t know what judging a fellow sister in Christ for throwing a dance party will profit anyone.  Does it make the judge happier to declare the party unholy or inappropriate?  No, it just divides the family of God even more because it pits one person against another over something that’s really a gray area.  I bet if I asked those critical of the party if they really thought that Jesus loves them more because they think my party was a bad idea, they’d honestly say no, so why bother judging?

Would it benefit me to argue with people to try to convince them that my way was right, that my party was okay?  No, because it’s not my job to try to win an argument and allow myself to be distracted by someone’s opinion of me.  And to get wrapped up in defending myself would waste energy that I could be spending loving on people, and it would make me angry instead of filling my heart with compassion for those who are picking my choices apart.

Would it be better for the party not to happen and for none of these women to interact and socialize?  I say no, because God is all about seeking people out and building relationships and opportunities to share the gospel.  So by now, the ladies who came to my soiree and are still reading, have learned that my surface goal was to have fun with my menagerie of friends from my life here in Raleigh, NC, but as usual with me, there was an underlying purpose, which was to serve up just a taste of the goodness and extravagance of the Lord’s love by loving on my friends.  To show them what joy and fellowship and diversity exists in the kingdom and family of God.  And I don’t think that any Pharisee could argue with that.

And you know what?  I suspect that Jesus loved a good party, and maybe even a little dancing.

zumba group

My Month of Dresses

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I spent the entire month of December wearing a dress, well, at least publicly.  At the end of 2017, an organization called the Dressember Foundation launched a campaign to raise 2 million dollars of support for victims of human trafficking worldwide.  People were encouraged to advocate for Dressember’s mission as individuals or teams via social media outlets.  Around 80% of victims of sex trafficking are women and girls, and as a victim of rape myself, this subject as been close to my heart for many years.  Whereas my assault was an isolated incident, a crime that was immediately reported, sex trafficking is usually a nightmare that goes on and on for its victims, with no end in sight.  Also, it’s a profitable business across the globe, making it easier to push on the dark web and almost directly under people’s noses.

So, when I found out about Dressember’s mission during the month of December, my interest was piqued.  All I was asked to do as an advocate was wear a dress every day, take photos of myself and post them to social media, and ask people to donate.  That last part was the most intimidating for me because I’m not a natural salesperson, and December is already a heavy spending month for people; I felt a little awkward asking them to stretch their budgets even more.

But several things surprised me about my month of dresses.  Wearing a dress didn’t seem like such a big commitment or statement to me at first, probably because I’m a girly-girl and I like to wear dresses anyway.  But as the first week ended and the second week began, my perspective on my limited wardrobe options changed.

First, I noticed that I was relegated to about four dresses that suited the wintry weather in December in North Carolina, and that got me thinking about women in second and third world countries who may not even have that many dresses for the season.  The fact that I had four warm and fashionable dresses and then went out and easily purchased a skirt to wear with some of my sweaters, just because I could, increased my gratitude.  Second, as I had to decide which dress or skirt was better for that day’s schedule or itinerary—was it grocery shopping, hiking with my family, church or yard-work—I was aware that pants are a recent and western adornment for women, and that for centuries (and even today in certain parts of the world) women performed every task under the sun in a dress.  It’s not comfortable to squat, to lift, or to sweat in a bulky skirt.  This awareness tied my heart to women of all nationalities and races, past and present, and increased my resolve.

Finally, as I posted photos of myself in my dresses (more uncomfortably as the month went along), I learned how little people know about this issue, and how desperately most want to help once they become aware of its scale and power.  Human trafficking, and sex trafficking in particular, is often regarded as something that happens in third world countries.  Americans don’t believe that it’s a problem in their own country.  But as I continued to post my photos with statistics about sex trafficking in the USA, I saw support pour in from women AND men, old friends and recent acquaintances who wanted to help somehow.  I started to see the dress as a symbol not only of femininity and beauty, but of solidarity and strength to overcome.

If I’m being honest, yes, I really missed my jeans.  There were days that month when the last thing I wanted to do was to pull on my tights and shimmy into a dress, but then I thought of all the women and girls who are victims of human trafficking.  How many days have they wished that they could stay in their sweats, or just walk down the street in jeans and comfortable shoes in freedom?  How many times have they been forced to shimmy into a tight miniskirt and step into strappy heels, only to walk down the street as slaves?  The dress-wearing ended for me on December 31 and I began a new year in clothes of my own choosing.  For victims of sex trafficking, 2018 brought no comfortable options.  This year when you choose to wear a dress, I hope that you’ll stop and consider women across the world, across time, and that you’ll be grateful for the freedom your wardrobe represents.

To find out more about how you can donate to or partner with the Dressember Foundation, please visit http://www.dressember.org.

 

 

Bigger Clothes, Bigger Problems: Hot-Button Issues with My Daughters

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girlsIn the very first days after my eldest daughter was born, I remember grieving my loss of sleep and discussing my exhaustion with my mom.  She empathized with me and then said something that has stuck with me as I’ve navigated the twisted roads of motherhood.  It went a little like this: “When your kids are very young they need your energy and constant attention because their problems are frequent but small.  They are easy to fix but they happen repeatedly.  When they’re older, your kids need your wisdom and your heart because their problems are fewer, but they’re bigger and there is less you can do on your own to fix them.”

Vivienne turned seven this month and her younger sister Georgia recently turned five, and although they still have many years head of them, I’m astounded at the depth of our conversations at this point in their lives.  I’m always a little sad when I realize they are old enough to comprehend that the world isn’t perfect, that some people are mean or that I can’t give them every answer to soothe their tender emotions or settle their confused minds.

All moms are familiar with the gut-sinking-bitter-sweetness that comes when you discover that your kids have outgrown their clothes and need an entirely new wardrobe.  There’s a double-whammy that hits while weeding out old clothes and buying new ones for our children.  The first punch goes to our checking account—time to budget for clothing this month!  The second punch goes to our hearts—our babies are getting bigger.  And bigger.  And as their bodies grow so do their minds.  Their brains fill with new information, new concepts.  Their eyes notice behavior and social structures.  Pretty soon these children start to ask very good questions, very challenging questions that make us stop and consider, “Hmm, how am I going to answer/handle this?”

And what complicates this for me even more is that my girls are SO different.  They have shared a room since my younger daughter was five-months-old, a bed since she was two, and they are the best of friends.  But they could not be more opposite if they were characters in a story.  Often a tactic or method or even tone of voice that I use with one does not go over well with the other.  I must get creative with tailoring much of my mothering-methods to each of my three children (because my youngest is a boy—talk about different!) and their personalities, while maintaining the convictions and ideologies that my husband and I feel are important for our family.

My night-and-day daughters have tested me lately in my ability to succinctly yet thoroughly answer their concerns in a way that will assuage their fears, teach truth and be considerate of their immature emotions.  My oldest daughter is very into science and dinosaurs.  She has just learned to read and will devour any text about dinosaurs that she can find.  But not all these books agree about exactly when dinosaurs existed, how long they lived and how they became extinct.  My husband and I are Christians and believe in Creation, but we are old-Earth Christians, so we tend to agree with scientists who maintain that the earth is much older than the 6,000 years that the new-Earthers claim.  We happen to own a book about dinosaurs by one of these new-Earth apologists, Ken Hamm, that we picked up from our local consignment store before we realized its angle.  He claims that dinosaurs were roaming the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve.  But just last week, Vivienne came home with a book about dinosaurs from her school library which supports the traditional scientific view that dinosaurs predated humans and even evolved into birds!  (An entire blog-post could be derived from this example about different schooling options for Christian families, but I’m not going to go there right now).

vivi dinosaur

You can imagine Vivi’s confusion when she read these two conflicting accounts.  I pointed out to her that the school library book was aging the earth at millions of years old, whereas Ken Hamm’s account ages it at around 6,000 years.  I asked her what she thought.  She said she agreed with the library book from the school because: “There’s no way people and dinosaurs could have lived at the same time because the dinos would have crushed or eaten the people!”

(Amazing the logic of little kids sometimes.)

So, I ended up encouraging her to take a faith-filled posture on this one.  I explained to her that there are some things we will never know this side of heaven.  But what we do know is that everything comes from something.  Every creation has a Creator, and the timing is mostly irrelevant.  We believe that God created all things for His glory and purpose, and that science helps us to learn about His creation and to reveal Him within it.  She seemed satisfied with that.  I believe her very words were, “I know that Mommy.”  And then she waved me away so she could continue reading her book on her own.

Georgia’s interests are not in science.  They are in performance, dancing, play-acting and looking pretty.  I think that this is a confusing are for girls and women in our current climate.  On one hand, people spend way too much money and time worrying about being beautiful.  Just the number of YouTube make-up tutorials, Pinterest pins and beauty products is overwhelming.  On the other hand, there is a growing movement among feminists which is telling females that beauty is shallow and unnecessary.  This perspective suggests that beautiful women who take care of themselves are enslaved to some patriarchal system, and that they are brainwashed ignorant bimbos.

I believe both groups are wrong.  I believe that my God loves beauty—it’s all around us in the animals we admire, the gardens that we cultivate, the mountains upon which we gaze, and yes, the diverse patchwork of humanity across this globe.  So, my task with Georgia is not to squelch her interest in beauty and the pleasure she takes in looking pretty.  My task is to put beauty in its proper place, to encourage her to focus more on cultivating a beautiful spirit and heart than on wearing an outfit or a hairstyle that others will notice.

IMG_4359

She threw a fit the other day when I would not allow her to wear her play make-up to school.  Now, the child is five, so it’s not like she was going to be in full super-model make-up anyway.  But I know that she sees me wearing make-up most days, and she has asked me why I do it.  I must be very careful about my answers because I don’t want her to ever think that her value lies in her beauty.  And she is lovely—she has creamy white skin, big blue eyes and light blonde hair.  She is blessed with a lean, muscular frame and her muscles are well-defined without that much physical effort.  But I know that God created us in His image, and all beauty is ultimately there to point to Him.  It’s nothing we can claim on our own because it was given to us.  I also know that nothing spoils beauty in a person like an ungrateful and selfish heart.

More questions and explanations are sure to come.  I hope that God gives me enough wisdom to communicate what He’s taught me, and that He’ll help me to tap into His grace when I get things wrong.  Please pray for me as I continue to nurture these feminine souls, knowing the struggles and expectations that are waiting for my girls as they grow.  Now my son, Roman, well…he’ll be an entirely different ball of wax!

What Entertains Us? Thoughts on Weinstein and Pornography.

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Yes. Me too.  I was abducted at gun point, robbed and sexually assaulted when I was 21.  I can assure you that being assaulted changes your life in a heartbeat.  Those are the testimonies that we’re hearing from these women who were bullied and assaulted by Harvey Weinstein.  Listening to the now infamous audio tape, it seems that he liked scaring them, wielding his power in the business over them, threatening their future.  And many of them walked away from “the industry” at that point.  They realized that they couldn’t participate in a game where their success depended on their willingness to surrender their morals.  As Weinstein said in the audio, “everybody does it.”

And apparently everyone knew about it.  From the jokes about Weinstein on shows like 30 Rock, to jabs at award shows, it truly seems as though this behavior had been happening for quite some time.  As one person was quoted as saying, “it was the most open secret in Hollywood.”  Yet the Weinstein Company and the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences are just now expelling Weinstein to distance themselves from his soiled reputation.

This tells me one thing, and I think we need to be reminded of this:  Hollywood, powerful people, entertainers—they did not care about those women or their futures or they would have stepped in long ago.  And guess what?  They don’t care about you, or me, or our kids.  They care about us insofar as we pay their bills, and that’s all.

So what can we do to stop sexual assault and harassment from happening in America alone?  I believe that sin and selfishness are going to drive this sort of mistreatment until the end of time, but there is one thing that I do believe could help in stopping the endless flow of damaging sexual images, ideals, and practices into our own homes and minds.

If people really want to see a better future, I think we need to start asking ourselves some tough questions: Although we may tell our children how to treat others, how to respect them, give them space, are we following that up with what we allow to pass from our eyes or ears to our brains as “entertainment?” Weinstein is a movie producer after all–how did he get so powerful? His very pockets were lined by us! He has produced some 80 films, and many of them are blockbusters.

What we pass off as entertainment is damaging business and relationships and teaching our children harmful messages about intimacy.  What music, TV shows, and films are we hooked on which promote casual, dangerous, selfish physical indulgence? It has been proven that pornography rewires the brain and viewing it releases dopamine which satisfies that “seeker” habit, however, after a while just watching isn’t enough, and the viewer must act out their fantasies. I wonder if this is what happened to Weinstein? And did you know that the pornography industry made $4 billion last year alone? That is symptomatic of a serious problem because it reveals a “need” that is feeding this business, and also because real people don’t respond to sexual advances the same way that actors do.  It is not “normal” for people to watch porn–it’s destructive, plain and simple, and I don’t know a single man who has had a problem with pornography and is recovering from it who has ever been proud that he was exposed to it.

Here’s something pretty pornographic (and I apologize in advance but I felt this was important).  A billboard hit about three summers ago contained these lines:

“You’re the hottest bitch in this place…”

“I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two.”

The song?  Blurred Lines by Robin Thicke and Pharrell.  And it was featured on Jimmy Kimmel, The Voice, So You Can Think You Can Dance, played over the radio all summer (we heard it over and over again while living in Luxembourg), and who knows what other TV shows.  Teens were listening to this for months and months.  They were being taught, through music, that it’s appropriate for men to tease women in this way.

I was going to post a photo of Robin Thicke and Miley Cyrus when they performed the song together on MTV in 2013, but it was just too gross.  Perhaps the most disturbing part of those images is while Miley is twerking all over Robin Thicke, young fans are reaching up worshipfully, in complete support of the perverse mess happening right in front of them.  It’s no wonder Thicke’s wife Paula Patton divorced him after that.

Mainstream TV and movies, Netflix and Amazon originals are not much better. What people defend as artistic license appeals to the most carnal instincts in a person and is inherently damaging. When our children are little we want them watching educational television that will stimulate their brains, but as adults we entertain ourselves with tawdry trash that feeds perversion in people like Harvey Weinstein.  I’m not blaming the public for his indiscretions. He of course is responsible for his actions, but I can’t help but think that the growing obsession with sex and self-gratification and lack of accountability in this country largely contributes to the twisted reasoning of people like Weinstein, and helped keep his secret quiet for a long time.

I think that it’s time we back up our words with our choices.  This may require us to give up our favorite shows, to walk out of movie theaters or be a little less cool.  So be it.  Let’s stop lining Hollywood’s pockets when they don’t care enough about us to stop abuse.

I’d like to leave you with a picture of a man who did care.  He was a champion for a woman who was being harassed and whose very life was being threatened.  She had exercised poor judgment and cheated on her husband.  A group of powerful men laid most of the blame on her and we have no mention of whether her lover was tried at all.  But they dragged her into the street and prepared to throw rocks at her until she died.  That’s when Jesus stepped in front of her and said to them, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her,” (John 8:7).  The crowd, in its shame, dispersed, and the woman presumably learned from her own mistakes and walked away unscathed, her future ahead of her.  So I don’t want to wholesale lay the blame on men and patriarchy.  There are great men who follow Christ’s example in their fair and noble treatment of women.

In contemplating people’s indiscretions and sins, I think we should mourn the pain and loss that one miserable person caused, but we should also pray for them and search our own hearts, ask the Lord to reveal how we can contribute to change.  It will take humility and grace to heal what has been broken.

Until Now: Mothering Moment to Moment

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I’ve been ruminating lately on how much of motherhood is moment-to-moment.  When they are very young, our children’s needs are immediate and small, yet they can quickly fill up a day.  From the minute they are born, they start changing rapidly.  Every day brings a new development, a new milestone or challenge.  So much of their questions as they learn to communicate, first with grunts and then single words and then phrases and eventually complex sentences, are about what they want or need from moment to moment.  Mine are always asking what we’re doing.

“Mommy, what can I do NOW?  What are we having for dinner?  What are we doing tomorrow?”

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They see in small slices of time.  There’s no long-term vision for the future in these little minds.  Therefore, I started to think like this not long after becoming a mother.  In these busy moments of mothering, I am often putting one foot in front of the other and thinking of what needs to be done NEXT.  What diaper do I need to change now?  What sticky liquid must I clean off the floor now?  What meal do I need to prep for next?  Who needs to get dressed?  Who needs a ride to school now?

Busy-ness does not provide much space for dreaming or for long term vision.  So as a mother I easily became entrenched in what was happening in my life daily, focusing on the fine details–not so much the beauty and great significance of the fact that my child can NOW hold their own spoon or get themselves dressed, but that it finally happened and freed me from their dependence on me for basic needs.  I was often overcome by these little, immediate needs.  I felt so smothered at times that I inwardly scoffed when older people with independent children would remind me how much I should be appreciating mine…right NOW in THIS moment.

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I brushed their comments aside, knowing they were right and silently acknowledging that one day I will most certainly be in their shoes, feeling compassion and sympathy for a young mom struggling with her tiny brood, while also feeling a pull to make her aware of the treasure that she has in her young family.  I brushed their comments aside because although they are most likely correct, what they said did not change the fact that in those moments, I was the one struggling.  I was the one yearning for a moment alone.  I was the one wondering when I’d get a good night’s rest again.  I was the one wanting to put on a nice outfit and not have it covered in food stains and snot.  I was the one covered up in moments and lacking vision or the hindsight to see how these moments could come together.

Until now.

Just a few days ago I was sitting at the kitchen table with my two-year-old son.  His older sisters have just begun their school year, and I’ve been looking forward to the days that I’m going to have alone with my son, my baby, who has had the least amount of quality time with mommy of all my children.  We were alone at the table and I was kind of focused in on his round cheeks when it hit me.  I am about to begin my final days as a full-time stay-at-home-mom.  Over the last seven years my husband and I added three little people to our family and every day I was swept up in their now needs.  It was hard for me to lift my head up higher than their faces to see the changes on the horizon, to see that the future was not “now”, but it came sooner than I anticipated.  When I was home with all three of them, or even just two of them (when my oldest started kindergarten last year), it was easy for me to see all these moments as an endless stream of my reality.  Like this was going to be my life forever, which is silly, because we all know that children grow up.

So NOW, when I look at my son, I see a boy who just yesterday was an infant, and tomorrow will be a kindergartner.  Every time he kisses my arm or my cheek, every time he tells me he loves me and demands a response, every time he asks me to carry him or runs to me in tears with a boo-boo, I wonder if it will be the last of these moments of childhood urgency.  Because moments have passed with my other two.  I can no longer carry my six-year-old.  My helpful five-year-old won’t be home in the afternoons to assist in putting her brother down for a nap.  There’s less and less need for mommy’s help right NOW, and more that they can do without me.

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Two nights ago, my five-year-old daughter was exaggerating about her speed and claiming that she could outrun me.  I told her, “Yeah right, I’m way faster than you!”  Then I thought for a moment and said, “But, there will be a day when you’ll be faster and stronger than me, honey.  Then you really will beat me.”

Sometimes I think that I, and moms in general, could benefit from learning how to procrastinate, just enough to help us put off the trivial tasks that seem like they need to be done right NOW, to savor more of these moments.  Later, our laundry will still be sitting in a pile on the floor, but our children will be running ahead, eventually too fast for us to catch them.  Let’s lace up our shoes, take a swig of caffeine, and chase these moments when we can.

tire swing

Godliness Over Girl-Power: Setting Priorities of Identity

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Last night I went to see Wonder Woman with a girl-friend.  To be honest, I’m not really into superhero movies, and especially not ones with a female lead because they are usually even more far-fetched than superhero films with male leads.  But I must admit I was pleasantly surprised by this film.  Yes, Wonder Woman was strong, and fast, and GORGEOUS–deflecting bullets with her wrist-guards, leaping hundreds of feet in the air and flattening villains with her supernatural power.  But there were things she was NOT, which are worth mentioning.  She was not selfish.  She was not vengeful.  She was not easily discouraged or offended.  She was not a man-hater.  She was not prideful.

It was intentional for the story of Diana Prince (a.k.a. Wonder Woman) to be set during the 1920s when the War was amping up and women’s suffrage was a controversial issue. To see Diana in her tiny uniform barely hidden by her cloak, taking advice from corseted secretaries in their prim-and-proper dresses with buttons to their throats was quite ironic and comical.  But as I watched the interaction between the two primary female characters: one a dowdy receptionist and one a beautiful, warrior goddess, I found myself becoming grateful.  I’m grateful to be able to celebrate the freedom as a Western woman who benefits from the battles won for women throughout the 20th century.  But I’m most grateful that my worth as a woman does not come from what I can earn.

I know that I can celebrate my femininity because God gave it to me.  In some way, I am able to image Him.  This gives me meaning as a woman, and the fact that His son rescued me from sin and gave me new life gives me freedom.  It’s an ultimate freedom that has already been won and need not be proven by marches, by protests, by wearing my female-ness as a prideful badge.

Everywhere I look, there’s a groundswell of women on a mission to prove themselves. There’s an idolatry of gender that offends more often than it helps, alienates more often than it unifies, and embarrasses more often than it encourages.  And for Christian women, this is especially dangerous because the risk is that we begin to hold our cause higher than the cause of Christ.  Do we want to be seen first as women or as children of God?  If our goal is to have equal treatment, then we would be best served by remembering these words:

Galations 3:28, There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t fight for women who are marginalized or oppressed. There are women all over the world who are raped, enslaved, mutilated, ignored, abused, and mistreated in a number of ways.  These are real problems.  This is true inequality.  What I am saying is that as a Western, Christian woman, my goal is to be grateful for what I already have and to look for opportunities to glorify God in this body and in the feminine way that celebrates His goodness, not to complain that my life is different from a man’s.

The cause of Jesus Christ is my banner, my march.

Wonder Woman showed some Christlike characteristics: grace, generosity, a recognition of who she was, not what she didn’t have, perseverance, hope, LOVE.  In these ways, she is certainly a superhero that my daughters and I can admire.  But she is also fictional. There are real women who have made a mark on history, on the world, women who were heroic in their faith and strength–Hannah, Ruth, Mary, Priscilla, Elizabeth, Esther.

Theirs were voices of peace.  Theirs were hearts of love.  Theirs were hands of strength. Theirs were spiritual battles of heaven and earth, which they won without picking up a megaphone or a sword.

May we be women of faith, strength and gratitude.

 

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