Light of the World

  “For once you were full of darkness, but now you have light from the Lord. So live as people of light.” Ephesians 5:8

  The view out the kitchen window this morning is of new fallen snow that twinkles like a million stars have fallen to the earth. The pristine blanket is striped with lavender blue gray shadows, mimicking the barren trees standing between the snow and the sun. There are a few blindingly white flecks of lightness in the shadows. I had never noticed this before on similar days. They must be reflecting the sunlight from a fellow snowflake that rests in the brightness of the day.

 

  Light in the shadows: gratitude. I am thankful the dark memories are slowly losing their grip. What once would have taken months to work through, to process, now happens in a matter of days. Tough days, but days nonetheless. It’s a testimony to the healing power of grace. Although, sometimes, in the midst of these days, it doesn’t feel like it will ever resolve. And even though I said a couple of days ago I was out the other side, the struggles have continued.

  Light: patience wrapped in hope.

  Light: filling my home with worship music. Listening, playing, singing. Struggling days are the days I compose the best note poems on the piano.  Somber, haunting tunes usually finish with joyous, laughing music. With it, my soul begins to rise above its sorrow. It's a good place to lay out my anger before the Lord. No one gets hurt that way.

  Light: lots and lots of conversations with the Lord. They may not be fully verbalized but I find myself reaching for His comforting presence, His insight and His wisdom. The music helps when I can’t find the words. So does the art.

  Light: my teddy bear is a key component to riding out a storm. He reminds me I am a child of God. I wrap my arms around him then curl up at the feet of Jesus. His presence is my comfort.

  Light: friends to come alongside.  I was able to share with my home church how difficult this series on husbands and wives has been. In the sharing, the load was lightened. And they spoke life words into my soul, how I’ve grown and changed. I was able to thank the men in the group for showing me there are good and Godly men in this world.

  Light: speaking life words over others. Serving them. Infusing them with hope as they wrestle with their own shadows.

  Light: knowing that God is in all of this and much more.

  All means everything.

Out the Other Side (Yay!!!)

  “A final word: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil.” Ephesians 6:10-11

  I went to bed early last night, wearied by the challenges of the last several days. My last thought was to pray that the Lord would give me something to smile about. He did.

  Around three thirty this morning I awoke with this question. Did knights in shining armor ever get struck by lightning?

  What? Where did that come from? But boy, I couldn’t help but smile because my imagination exploded.

  I envisioned an entire battle where rumbling, distant clouds sends all the brave and noble knights rushing off the battlefield; utterly forgetting about the war that brought them there in the first place. Their squires are scurrying to pick up the metal pieces as the knights toss them away as fast and as far as they could.

  Maybe there are golf players out there who could relate. (Smile.)

  Then there was a lone, cartoonish knight being struck repeatedly by bolts from the sky. He did a stilted jig every time they struck like something right out of an old Road Runner cartoon. All that was missing was him holding a printed, wooden sign, “Ouch!”

  I wasn’t awake very long and fell back asleep, a silly grin on my face, with the hope I wouldn’t forget these thoughts. God honoured that brief prayer, too. I haven’t.

  This passage in Ephesians is right beside the one about husbands and wives. It’s also where my exploration of God’s Word began. There was no time for the love passages, neither was I in the place to receive them. I needed to know how to fight, to survive, to protect my baby faith in an un-Godly household. It is no coincidence that these empowering words have book-ended a fifteen year journey, seeing as the last few days have taken me back to where it all began.

  In thinking about it this morning, the main reason for last night’s smile was because what I imagined was about grace.

  I can be awfully hard on myself at times especially when lightning, in the form of flashbacks, strikes.

  You see, I have always believed the nightmarish, lightening fast flashbacks still existed because I had not fully forgiven. (That’s me, chucking off my armor.) 

  But that’s not it at all! They are manifestations of memories wrapped in intense emotion. Many have emotional connections, a similar feeling about them, which is why when one begins, more are bound to follow. Memory works like that.

  Have you ever talked about the “good ole days” with an old time friend? One memory stirs another.

  To put it another way, stirred by one flashback, emotions become a very powerful search engine (albeit one I wish I could sometimes shut off when it gets going.)

  It’s a physical thing. It’s how the brain works. It’s why we can make connections. It’s the source of intuition. It’s how God made us. And I am okay with that.

  Thank, You, Lord, for being my Squire, my Helper, my Strength and my Peace. (And there is peace at last.) AMEN!

Learning To Live With It

  “For wives, this means submit to your husbands as to the Lord.” Ephesians 5:22

  I don’t feel much like writing this morning. It happens. Part of it is because my head is all over the map. Ugly flashes of memory are juxtaposed over worship lyrics and thoughts of Jesus. Back and forth.  I would be more than happy to have the ugly half vanish.

   I know it’s been a bit over fifteen years since the chains of marital oppression were broken and I fell into the arms of Jesus. (Thank You for being there, my Lord.) You’d think I would be beyond this but in all honesty, I wasn’t ready to delve deeper before now.  Forgive me, Lord, for being ashamed of this and for running away. There has been much thinking away from the writing which has created some headway towards peace. 

  My marriage was not a Godly one. Neither my ex nor I were followers of Jesus. To hold either of us up to His way is neither fair nor right because that’s judging. It's a brutally punishing way to plaster guilt, shame and blame everywhere. It only feeds hate.

  That’s not to say I didn’t believe in God back then, my issue was with the church no matter the religion. But unsupported faith is a dangerous thing. It’s why God’s Word was able to be taken out of context then used as a weapon of oppression. The Lord was entirely removed…”submit to your husband” was the law of the land. No mention was ever made about the husband’s role.

  There were consequences if I dared disobey or dared question his behaviour or choices or anything for that matter. Not that I had much fight in me anyways. I think that’s part of why he chose me. He knew he could exert control over me.

  I say this with neither bitterness nor anger. It is simply the way it was.

    I wasn’t perfect by any means…I was good at keeping secrets. Another of the rules. “Never talk about your spouse to anyone.” To do so was an act of disrespect. Maybe if I had I would have been…No. Wishful thinking and putting hindsight on a situation serves no purpose. Besides, I had no trusted friend to confide in even if I could. I had a hard time trusting anyone anyways. His control simply pushed me farther away from others. (No anger here; just the facts.)

  I also ran from actually thinking about everything that was decidedly wrong about the whole situation.  He had an addiction to alcohol. I had video games. I knew I was desperately unhappy but believed if I only tried harder…Things would be better.

  Sigh.

  I did the best that I could with the tools I had at the time. There weren’t too many and those few were broken.

  Thank You, Lord, the hate towards him has gone from my heart. In its place is a deep sorrow for the toll those twenty years had on my life, for the need for medications that ease the symptoms of PTSD. I feel sad for the woman who often wondered how things had got so bad. But mostly for the woman who believed a double standard was okay because of his manly “rights” as husband.

  So maybe the reason I am sharing this is to create awareness. Abuse doesn’t always involve physical harm. It also doesn’t happen overnight.

  There term grooming comes to mind. Little punishments, like for something as mundane as not buying the right brand of honey, slowly multiply. The point is to not drive away the abused by going too far too fast.

  Kindness or affection becomes a weapon, too, by being withheld or by making random appearances to atone for the cruel words of yesterday.

  There’s more to it than this. Please, check it out online because I want to reach out to any woman, or man for that matter, who may be trapped by the cycle of abuse. You are not alone. You have nothing to be ashamed of either. I say again, abuse does not have to be physical.

  For someone who didn’t feel much like writing, it seems I had a lot to say. (Smile.)

  To end, I realize there is so much to be thankful for. I know much better now because the pure love of Jesus is showing me the way of love and relationships. We cannot do it on our own. Ever.

HATE is a four letter word.

  “Be just and fair to all. Do what is right and good, for I am coming soon to rescue you and to display my righteousness among you.” Isaiah 56:1

  It's a day to step back from what our church is teaching, “Her Story, Jesus, Women and the Church.” It is a good teaching and has enabled me to find a change of heart regarding men. They can bring good things into my life if I let them. (A small smile.) The blanketing, prejudicial judgments have been swept away; a very good thing.

   It has, unfortunately, also stirred up a wasps’ nest of very vivid, very unpleasant memories. The series isn’t entirely to blame for where I am at this morning.

  I watched a movie, “Boy Erased” at work a couple of days ago. It was an outing to the local theatre where they played the movie of our choice just for us. The back cover blurb on the DVD depicted a coming of age story for a young gay man, the son of Baptist pastor…It was not. It was two hours of ugly but, as the only staff present, I could not leave. Even when I fled to the relative safety of the theatre lobby, I could still hear it. I am haunted by what I saw and heard.

  Oh, Lord, this true story of what happens when Christians don’t get it right was brutal, violent, and full of hate; where conversion therapy is used to shame and oppress. It is no different than the harm done to our Aboriginal people through the Catholic/Government Residential Schools. Only the characters and religion have changed.

  

  A young man who had been physically beaten with a Bible as part of the “cure” died by suicide.

   Conversion therapy as a way to “cure” homosexuality is still being used.

  As for my own attitudes towards homosexuality, as a follower of Jesus, I have no right to cast the first stone. None of us do. I have no right to condemn those who don’t know Him or even those who have missed the point of Jesus' work on the Cross.

  Perfection is God’s work. His perfection and perfecting way is perfect.

   I have no right to deny anyone the love of God. My work is to come along side to encourage, love…to be just and fair to all. 

  All means everyone.

  I am, when all is said and done, a sinner who earnestly desires that prayer, spoken words of love, replace condemnation and fear. 

   And at the moment feeling rather confused because, Lord, how and where does accountability fit into this? If we are surrounded by people who believe as we do, how do we know when we get it wrong? Which, as history and current events reveal, we do very well and frequently.

  May God have mercy on us. Guide those of us who stray from Your heart, Your way, into truth.

  (I had written the following paragraphs before going back and adding about the movie.)

  Tomorrow’s lesson will be teaching about husbands, wives and the profound mystery.

  Sigh. I am not sure I am either ready or able to hear it. Yet, sometimes the medicine that makes us feel better comes with an awful taste. So while there is dread, and a valid concern for how vulnerable I am already thanks to the uninvited flashbacks, there is also a willingness to face what will come of it. 

  Through Jesus, the joy will come. He has proven it will be so time and again.

  Sometimes the tears have to fall like rain first. The movie has opened the floodgates already to a grief and sorrow that is far deeper than my own. It is for those who feel they are justified to do harm, to oppress and to hate, believers and non-believers alike. It is for those who don't know there is a better way.

  I want to be just and fair because hate is ugly. All it does is sicken the soul and drive others away from God. Only…this isn’t something I can do on my own...

  It might be good to end with a 911 call…Psalm 91:1 (Thanks to the friend who brought this idea to my attention!)

  “Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”

  All these things I pray in Jesus' most precious name. AMEN!

Maybe, Just Maybe

    “Your young men will see visions, and your old men will dream dreams.” Acts 2:17

  More of Joel's prophesy Peter quoted to the gathered crowd at Pentecost.

  What struck me deeply about this particular passage is the gift for old men. And since Jesus brought into being an egalitarian faith, it’s for old women as well.

  I’ve been thinking about being at the end of a life lived fully. When family is grown, when the body fails, when purpose falls by the wayside, this is a gift that restores the hopes of youth, of a time when the world was fresh and new and ripe with possibility; when anyone over thirty was considered ancient. (Smile. We’re not.)

  I have to ponder on what sort of dreams would bless the old…seeing as I am not there yet, I wouldn’t even know where to start! (A big smile.)

  I have to acknowledge and give thanks for the dreams where I sat in Jesus' presence and was comforted, especially during the darkest days, the lost days, on the Black River.

  Maybe God dreams aren’t earth shattering revelations. Maybe we need to let go of the idea that prophesy is limited to big ticket items. I feel this is placing yet another cultural expectation on how God works.

  Maybe dreams are the one place where we are free to listen, where we are free of worldly constructs around our Lord and His ways. In our dreams, we can fly!

  In Christ, we can do all things!

PS  I use the word “maybe” a lot simply because there is much I don’t know. Yet, every time it finds itself flowing from my fingertips, it is meant as a prayer: for understanding, clarity and wisdom.

 

Prophesy

  “In the last days,” God says, “I will pour out my spirit upon all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy.” Acts 2:17

   Peter quoted the prophet Joel on this day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit was given to all who believe.

  I learned something very important last night. We had our home church yesterday because the weather is supposed to turn nasty tonight. We haven’t met since before I went away because of it!

  I had always thought that prophesy was like fortune telling (for want of a better comparison). That prophesying was only about the future; divinely inspired statements of what lay ahead. In true God fashion, He has gifted all of us, men and women alike, with something that is far more.

  The terms forth-telling and foretelling were shared. Foretelling is related to what will come. It is a part of prophesy. Forth-telling is Godly words about what is. Forth-telling is when truths are spoken over a person or even a place.

  (Oh, Lord, forgive me for speaking my own “truth”, not Yours.)

  There’s a building south west of here, sort of in the middle of nowhere. It has seen business after business set up shop then fail in a matter of months. Every time we drove past, someone in the car would inevitably point this out.

  “Nothing ever succeeds there. Why would they even think it was a good location? Man, that’s an ugly building!”

   There was a feeling of dejection and abandonment and darkness, like a shadow, over the whole area. Then God revealed that a good number of people were saying the same thing about the place every single day. It is a busy road.

  All of us together, believer and non-believer alike, had laid the foundation for failure by the words we spoke, by prophesying poisonous words. (The devil is more than happy to oblige.)

  From then on, whenever I passed, I began praying the business would succeed. Mostly, the prayers were for the people involved, that they would learn how to protect themselves from the onslaught of curses through the love and power of Jesus Christ.

  I don’t go that way very often any more so there’s no way of knowing if there was a happy ending for the place. Was one voice, speaking life and love, enough to eradicate years of hateful words?

  And I am feeling convicted by this tale for the number of times un-Godly words have passed over my lips; those times when criticisms, judgments and negativity have carelessly poured out. Can I take them back? Can I place them at the foot of the cross? Will You forgive me?

  Thank You, Lord, for Your grace and patience and kindness. Thank You for bringing me into an even greater awareness of just how necessary it is to watch my language. Now I understand what an incredible gift You have entrusted us with.

  I realize too, that forth-telling and foretelling are intricately intertwined with each other. That one cannot exist without the other. And it is a powerful team.

PS. I also believe that honestly sharing our struggles and feelings with the Lord or a trusted counselor is part of the healing process; an unraveling of lies that makes way for truth.

On the Lighter Side

    “And Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” Luke 7:50

  I bought an inexpensive piece of costume jewelry in Florida. It came with a carefully preserved oyster and the guarantee of finding at least one pearl within. The silver pendants (I chose a unicorn) were designed with a basket to display the pearl. The various pearl colours were supposed to grant wisdom, health and a bunch of other things I forget. But, it’s a pearl, not some sort of supernatural agent. Those abilities belong to God. 

  But as a metaphor…

  I was drawn to this for another reason. A pearl, a thing of shimmering beauty, is made by an oyster when a bit of stone or sand finds its way into the shell. The oyster coats the irritating bit of grit with layer upon layer of calcium carbonate. It hardens into a pearl, a treasure of the sea, which has been sought after for millennia.

  Then someone got smart. Not all wild oysters contain pearls. By intentionally placing a grain of sand or two or three into a live oyster shell then waiting for it to do its thing, a pearl harvest is guaranteed. I think the only things that can’t be controlled is what colour or shape the pearl will be.

  By intentionally laying the things that grieve me, that have hurt me, and where I have sinned at the foot of the Cross, Jesus has made pearls out of them. He has redeemed them all and continues to wrap layer upon layer of healing around them.

  And I am ever grateful that He has answered my prayers so quickly. I am grateful He has shown me the way of peace.

  Now, I don’t know if pearl farmers force the oyster open to install the sand. I have a feeling it would kill it by tearing the tender, inner flesh apart. Maybe they wait for the oyster to open on its own: the Jesus’ way. (Smile.)

  Pearl moments: answered prayers.

  Yah…corny…but I love corny. And that’s okay.

  As for the unicorn, initially I chose it because it’s a mythological, beautiful beast that makes me smile; because it never hurts to embrace the whimsical, the playful, every now and then.

  Now, I see it differently. Never in a million years did I ever think having a relationship/friendship with men could be possible…a mythical, imaginary state of being that has ended up being very real.

  And I am okay with that, too.

For Thou Art With Me

“And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living in you.” Romans 8:11

  I confess to feeling a long way from this promised life. This series at church, “Her Story: Jesus, Women, and the Church” has stirred up a lot of really crappy memories.  For the first time in a long time loneliness is sharing my home.

  I never should have watched the movie, “The Notebook,” either. It is the love story of all love stories.

  Or maybe this is a good thing. Have I reached the point where it’s possible I could entertain the idea of being in a relationship with a man? The thought terrifies me. Still, it’s an idea that has popped up over the years. I’ve had couple of friends suggest I pray about it or write down my thoughts on who I feel would be the ideal person for me. Quiet chats with the Lord on this subject often end up in laughter because…because…

  There is a part of me that still believes I don’t deserve that someone special. Thanks, crappy memories, for the reminders…

  (A long pause.)

  Man, I hate Valentine’s Day, February 14^th, the lovers’ day. It does this to me every year, this wrestling with the idea of relationships, even though there aren’t many good memories associated with this particular holiday. Until the first year I was single. A couple of the young men at work brought in a rose for every woman who was working. It was the first Valentine’s gift I’d received in a long time and an act of kindness and generosity I will never forget.

  Through them, God poured out His love on a woman still raw from the wounds of a broken marriage.

  (Another pause.)

  Lord, a long while ago, a lifetime ago, I asked You not to bring a relationship into my life that might interfere with my relationship with You. I prayed to remain single rather than lose all I had gained with You at my side. But…I feel this prayer has closed off the opportunity of learning about You from within the dynamics of a mortal, mixed gender relationship.

  Am I praying for one?

  I am not sure. 

  But then, I am unsure about a lot of things. 

  (It’s a pausing kind of day.)

  I think I may have reached the point of believing that a man, in partnership with You, is able to teach me good things.

  Maybe I can do the same for him.

 

 

  PS. I cannot begin to describe the peace that has swept over me after writing those last sentences. They are words of forgiveness that have blanketed all the crappy memories with grace. The terrible darkness of fear, grief and loneliness that drove me to bed early yesterday (as a way of escaping) has vanished.

  So, my Lord, I lift to You the possibility of having a man as a friend: as good a place as any to start with. In Your name I pray, AMEN!

Rest for the Soul

  “This (equipping God’s people) will continue until we all come to such unity in our faith and knowledge of God’s nature in the Lord, measuring up to the full and complete standard of Christ.” Ephesians 4:13

  Enough time has been spent acknowledging where gender inequality rears its ugly head. Let’s face it. It’s there. As my friend H pointed out, it always has been. I hope one day, it will be a subject of history; that future generations will view the division as an archaic blight upon a primitive society. I imagine them being somewhat puzzled by it all and unable to understand why such a thing even existed. They will be like us when we read about slavery.

  Or maybe seeking to achieve equality isn’t the route we women need to go. Men and women aren’t equal because we are different.

  Short of taking performance enhancing drugs, I will never be as strong. Men will never be able to bear children. But that’s the beauty of it. Instead of equality, how about being seen as wonderfully unique? How about our differences being opportunities to celebrate what makes men, men and women, women? (Sometimes it seems as though I keep repeating myself. Maybe it’s because this is something I need to hear over and over again!)

  We were created for partnership and not just with each other but with God.

  It’s going to take that special relationship for me to finally be comfortable in the presence of men. It’s going to take an amazing infusion of God’s love to be filled enough to be at peace in the presence of men.

  And that’s what I want.

  Now, if only my body will let me. I just need to find the shut off switch for the fight/flight response that subconsciously kicks in whenever I am around men. Even around the men I trust and admire, it’s there, simmering in the background…waiting…assuming it is going to be needed.

  It makes being in a mixed crowd exhausting and difficult; a circumstance to be avoided whenever possible because it takes so much hard work to get through it. The reality is mixed crowds are everywhere!

  To be afraid is not of God. To be ashamed isn't either.

  I feel it’s time I made a change in how I deal with this response. Instead of attempting to shut it down by force and the power of will (and medication), perhaps I need to validate and comfort this inner voice. 

  It is my own voice crying out. I need to take her by the hand and explore why she doesn’t feel safe. I bet there’s more going on than simply going to yellow alert because a man entered the room or worse, stands behind me. That sends the screamin' heebie jeebies into full on red alert!

  Instead of hating or being frustrated with this “weakness” of mine, I need to love her to death. Or if that doesn’t work, ask Jesus to hold her close until the fear fades away.

  Jesus, thank you for revealing all this. Thank you for blessing me with a heart that, deep down, doesn't want to hate or fear men. Thank you for the times I have felt compassion for them and even love for them in their brokenness. Thank you for this revelation of Your love for all of us in our brokenness. Thank you that I will be free of the need to be on guard. In Your name I pray. AMEN!

 

A Question of Gender

  “The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ.” 1 Corinthians 12:12

  Cynthia Westfall (Paul and Gender) says, “The Holy Spirit determines who gets what gift; a theological system that filters and restricts the gifts for a given group compromises the authority of the Holy Spirit.”

 

  Until a little over a hundred years ago a woman’s mind was considered too delicate to grasp the intricacies of politics to the point they were not allowed to vote. Not much later, when a working woman married, she had to quit her job in order to tend to the necessities of hearth and home. Even when I was in school, Home Economics was taught to girls while Shop Classes were for boys.

  I learned cooking, sewing and embroidery while the guys learned about woodworking and power tools.

  My dad was always doing home improvements. I would often help him, learning entirely by osmosis. The only time he, a child of the Great Depression, let me hold a hammer was to straighten a crooked nail so it could be reused. No, that’s not entirely true. When I was little, my brother and I would head into his shop to build boats out of scraps of wood. But once a young lady…

  On the farm, the good-ole-boy’s farmers’ club wouldn’t talk to me about caring for cows. Sheep and goats were a bit iffy but making inroads into male territory. Rabbits, poultry and vegetable gardens were far more appropriate for my feminine abilities. 

  Cows were and still are considered a man’s animal, too big and too powerful for women to handle. Yet, rather than using force, I was able to work with my Black Angus ladies and earn their trust. Kindness, calmness and plenty of shoulder scratches molded them into big pets. I was able to approach their new born calves without having to worry about mom attacking me to protect their baby. They trusted me with their most valuable treasure. I did remain vigilant and avoided coming between them but that was simply being prudent and mindful of safety.

  I will say I would prefer to attend to a laboring cow rather than dig a vegetable garden! That’s hard, hard work! Silly men. (Smile.)

  And I keep thinking about Mary (of the Lazarus story) sitting quietly at the feet of Jesus, learning, absorbing, hungering to hear everything He was saying. I keep thinking how Jesus invited Martha to do the same, breaking with the traditions of the time. He extended to women the gift of knowledge and wisdom. He extends this gift to all His followers who would soon be made of Jew and Gentile, slaves and the free…eyes and noses, hands and feet…

  Hmmm…how come I have never heard a man described as virtuous? Are gentleness and humility considered undesirable traits? I believe society has built restrictions around "manly conduct" that are just as harsh and confining as those it has built for women. They are simply different but the end result is the same: they are cages built of lies.

There's More To It

    “So you should earnestly desire the most helpful gifts. But now let me show you a way of life that is best of all.” 1 Corinthians 12:31

  I am going to share a quote my friend H. sent me in keeping with attempting to unravel the gender disparity that is such a part of our lives. I am seeking to discover where my own, unacknowledged prejudices have shaped my understanding.

 

  “The woman was made of a rib out of the side of Adam; not made out of his head to rule over him, nor out of his feet to be trampled upon by him, but out of his side to be equal with him, under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be beloved.” Mathew Henry in the early 1700’s

  That is one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I have ever read. Yet, at the same time, it is a poignant reminder of how far we are from living through this truth.

  While away, I needed a small item. The mesh scrubbie I use in the shower fell apart so I went to the nearby drug store to replace it. They had a wide selection to choose from. They even had ones specifically made for men. The ladies’ ones were pretty pinks, pale blues, lavender purple or a swirling combination of these colours. Those for the men were in a stately red, a regal navy and shimmering black.

  The ladies’ ones were double the price despite not being nearly as well made. They utilized less fabric. They were held together with a soft piece of rope. The men’s were thicker and had a strong rubber strap that could be slipped over the hand for improved grip. Needless to say, I bought a red one because I don’t care that it came with a black label that clearly identified it as a men’s product. I wanted the best bang for my $2.

  While this irked me to no end, it is a clear depiction of how subtle gender disparity can be and just how infused it is into our thinking. There are even boy colours and girl colours!

  Being irked is only part of this. Who am I kidding? I was downright p***d off that, because of my gender, I was expected to pay more for an inferior product. Part of the resentment was because this was a not so subtle reminder of the lie that men deserve better than women; a lie that has shaped so much of my life.

  Sigh. And it’s everywhere. Not just the shampoo aisle of a drug store.

  It’s in my head still.

  ( Long pause.)

  So how do I change my head and my heart?

  And Jesus says, “Forgive.” The gift that will set me free.

  This is going to be a long list.

  I choose to forgive the women whose legacy was the lie that, because of gender, I am worth less and that men are worth more; that they are more deserving. I choose to forgive the men who use(d) their power to subjugate women…me… I also forgive the men who taught the men these things.

  Lord, there is also a whole lot of forgiving to do about the scrunchie and its message. There are marketers to forgive, the store purchasing agent, the manufacturers, and even the cashier, who looked disgusted when I laid my inexpensive “men’s” product on the counter. Hmmm…can I forgive myself for believing this was wrong? That I should have bought a purple one?

  Whoa…how did shame and guilt get in there? 

  Oh, Lord...how I need You to lead me through this. AMEN!

  

Troubled Waters

  “Don’t copy the behaviour and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” Romans 12:2

  We’ve started a new series at church entitled “Her Story.” It is an investigation into Jesus, women and the church. It is available on The Meeting House website. It is a wonderful partner to the Proverbs study just finished so I will select my post topic from Sunday’s scripture selection to delve deeper into them.

  The opening always begins with a selection of quotes from brilliant, faith filled people throughout the ages. It’s wonderful they are also chosen from people who practice a variety of faiths. Wisdom isn’t religious.

  We were cautioned not to get our feathers ruffled at the anti-female sentiment many of these great teachers have penned. The part that ruffled my feathers was that many of them echoed my own sentiments and attitudes towards women. Men have subjugated women for a long time but, my friends, women do it, too.

  We can only teach our daughters what we know.

  I know a lot of wrong things. Worse, I believe them.

  But our mind is a flexible thing. Praise God!

  “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth.” John 16:13

  So it’s time to let in truth and let go of the judgments, the generalizations, the prejudicial way of thinking that men are superior. It’s time to release the idea that, due to gender, men are more deserving and therefore do not need to be accountable for their actions.

  (Pause.)

  That last one…there’s a lot of pain wrapped up in those few words. Forgive me, Lord, for believing something that negated my ability to set boundaries; that opened the gateway to the subjugation and abuse that has taken me so long to be free of.

  There are still ghosts. But I feel they are tied directly into where my thoughts don’t line up with Jesus’ teaching.

  There are areas where forgiveness has not wrapped its healing balm.

  So here’s the thing, Lord, can You help me forgive myself for the actions and choices I made that perpetrated the lies that women are worth less?

Finale: Proverbs 31

  “Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised. Reward her for all she has done. Let her deeds publicly declare her praise.” Proverbs 31:30-31

  So this is the last of Proverbs 31. I think I need to talk about beauty. I think I need to redefine my understanding of beauty.

  Beauty is subjective to the times and fashions of the day.

  The great Renaissance art master, Reuben, painted women with soft curves and rolls of flesh. The Mona Lisa is a rather plain woman adorning a small canvas but her mysterious smile has had generations wondering about her secret. Marilyn Monroe was a size 14. Then, in the sixties, came the supermodel Twiggy who was a cadaverous skin on bone. Now both men and women are expected to be muscular and fit to be considered beautiful.

  Art through the ages, right up to current beer commercials has taken the personality out of beauty. It has dehumanized the human form. It has objectified our bodies.

  Did you know that the great portrait painters altered their works to make their subjects more pleasing to the eye? They would strengthen a “weak” chin. They would make “small” eyes larger. They would basically perform plastic surgery with their brush. An airbrush does the same thing now. If you look at an ad closely enough you can tell where a line has been softened or a shadow accentuated. 

  It’s all about perceptions. "Beauty" sells.

  The number of people I know who obsess about their weight, who worship the god, Diet, is a symptom of how hard we try to be like the fictional beauties that bombard us every day. The diet supplement companies have done a wonderful job in selling the lie. .

  God, forgive me for judging others based on appearance because I know I do.

  I am taking the health side out of being overweight in this dialog because obesity is a valid health concern. I am viewing dieting from a shame perspective.

  Yes…shame. How many of us can look in a mirror and love what we see?

  How many of us can look in a mirror and see what Jesus sees?

  How many of us realize that our beauty is the light we carry? The ravages of time and gravity cannot dim it. It is the fear of the Lord, that childlike sense of awe and wonder and amazement that sets us aglow. It infuses us with a radiance that is almost blinding.

  I think, the next time I look in the mirror, I need to ask Jesus what He sees. I need to realize the lines of sorrow and life are a testimony of all He has brought me though.

  I need Him to help me love what I see.

  And I need to think of Jesus, whose initial depictions were of a rather plain and unassuming man. And by all written accounts, He was. It's only in latter years that the Son of God was depicted as physically perfect. Yet it is a perfection with a clear racial and prejudicial bias that created an image of a light skinned, golden eyed Christ.

  So even though we've made a mess of things like we do, there's hope. There's hope that our hearts and minds can be changed. 

  Lord, help me see true beauty. Help me see the beauty in others and in the mirror. 

 

  I know I said recently that I would examine the roles of husbands and wives next but I feel a great deal of reluctance to begin that particular study. Lord, where would You lead? Grant me the willingness to follow. In Jesus’ name I pray. AMEN!

Home Again

  “And because you belong to Him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death.” Romans 8:2

  I will wrap up the Proverbs 31 study tomorrow.

  I arrived home yesterday, mid afternoon, feeling blessed by the events that got me here in record time. The flight was a bit late arriving to pick us up but managed to make up time at the Florida turn around so I arrived only fifteen minutes later than originally planned. Customs was a breeze. My suitcase was the third one off the plane. The hotel pick-up was only a ten minute wait.

  Then there was the car. While I was gone, there were three bus days and a school closure due to the wicked weather that raged. A bus day is when the school buses are cancelled because it isn’t safe. Then there was the January thaw in the first week of February. And some freezing rain but the car was clear except for some ice trapped in and around the wiper blades. A fist and a bit of force broke it up easily enough to pull chunks away. And the car started up right away!

  I was home before dark, armed with a pizza for dinner.

  I will confess that being on the plane wasn’t so great. I ended up skirting around panic attack territory all because of the claustrophobic seating. I won’t book a window seat again in row 7 on a 737. There’s no window. There was also a tall man in front of me who raised his headrest up making the tight squeeze feel even tighter. I also figured out that the row behind the expensive seats at the front of the plane has a tiny bit more leg room. That’s where I sat on the way down. A tiny bit makes a big difference when airlines have sardine seating. I suppose it’s so the premium seats won’t have to deal with their seats being inadvertently bumped.

  This claustrophobia of mine doesn’t show up too often, praise God, because it is a rather unpleasant feeling. Logic doesn’t work to dispel it. I guess that’s the thing about fears. There is no logical reason for them. This fear of small spaces has been with me my entire life. I’d happily hold a snake instead!

  Lord, I will ask for some understanding, some clarity about where this fear came from. I pray You will lead me into healing. In Jesus’ name I pray. AMEN!

Meditations

  "So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ." Romans 10:17

  I am on holiday, enjoying some sand and sunshine. My house is entrusted to the care of a good friend. So is winter for another week. (Smile.)

  Normally I would be beach combing aka shell hunting this time of the morning but decided to take a break. I am not used to a daily two hour walk! Mind you, my pace is a far cry from any Olympic speed records!

  These walks have been accompanied by worship music and I've found myself singing along while musing upon the wonders of creation. Sanibel Island is built of shells deposited here by the whims of tide and wind through the millennia. The beaches are littered with them as the work of time continues.

  They fascinate me although I have drastically curtailed the number I pick up because previous trips to this wonderful place have given me all I need. Only ones I don't have or ones that are nicer, bigger or better end up in the bag.

  The variety of shells is staggering. I have found myself pondering mathematics and physics even though my knowledge of both is rather limited. I am aware of the symmetry and that the 

laws of physics are the foundation of their form and structure. Then God threw in an abundance of colour laid down in a precise pattern. Yet, within the parameters of a species colour palette, there is freedom for an infinite and individual interpretation.

  I have wondered what causes the colours...

  There are ugly shells. Coarse, rough, or plain until you look inside. Shimmering mettalic blues and grays and pinks swirl and gleam in the light of day. It's like holding a nebula in the palm of your hand. 

  The white shell fell into my hands through the grace of God. It's kin range from light caramel to buckwheat honey brown. I dropped my shoe and as I bent over to retrieve it, there was this rare beauty partially covered by a blanket of seaweed. Had I not been stopped, it would have been missed. Unlike the many bleached and dull fossilized shells that end up washed ashore, this one still shines. Its absence of colour makes it rare indeed. 

  Sometimes we need to lose something to find something amazing.

  I am grateful. To find myself flooded with an anticipatory feeling of awe and wonder makes these walks with God a treasure unto themselves.