Still a Daughter

I spent last week at the beach in Destin, Florida, with my family. Five days of sitting on a beach chair in the sun, watching my nieces and littlest sister (and husband and brother-in-law) play in the sand and tide. I made some progress in one of the novels I took, but most of my books stayed in my backpack. The week was a time for catching up with my dad and his wife and daughters, for eating fresh seafood, for throwing the Frisbee on occasion, for seeing the rushing and retreating expanse my father has made.

My parents are divorced, like half the rest of America, and the process of their dissolution took about nine years. I had erratic and often intensely negative feelings for and about my dad throughout my high school and college years; those feelings have mellowed out, and as adults we get along nicely. We live 1,200 miles apart and don’t see each other often, but I’m always glad to visit my dad when I can. This beach trip was his and his wife’s initiative, and they provided a big place for their family and me and my siblings to meet up and spend some time together.

It’s easy to come away from any family time analyzing dynamics. My mind is usually wrought with thoughts about my interactions with everyone, and everyone’s interactions with one another, and was I satisfied with our time together, and did I fall into old birth order roles with my siblings, and was I more lonely than I thought I would be. And did I love well.

This trip felt different. I think there was potential for all of those internal questions—my default is to over-process—but at the week’s end my dad said something to me that left my mind quiet and full of one thought.

At the end of a perfect day of hunting for shells with the little girls, making a sleeping dragon sand sculpture, and laughing hard with my sister and dad about unintentionally funny things we’ve heard people say, we had to pack up the car and pass around goodbye hugs. My dad hugged and kissed me. His arms are still so strong and tight; no one’s hugs feel like his. He told me again how thankful he was that we could be there, and he told me he was so proud of me.

As chicken-soup-for-the-soul-ish this may sound, my 29-year-old self was filled. I think I can guess that my dad’s been proud of me; I’m at least sure he’s not disappointed in who I am or what I’ve done with my life. But hearing him say it to me—despite all our past and its residue, despite my independence from him, despite the deeply affirming relationship I have with my husband—it was like I’ve needed nothing else.

Embracing Idols

“This letter is from John the Elder. It is written to the chosen lady and to her children, whom I love in the truth, as does everyone else who knows God’s truth—the truth that lives in us and will be in our hearts forever. May grace, mercy, and peace, which come from God our Father and from Jesus Christ his Son, be with us who live in truth and love” (2 John 1–3).

As you may know, these verses inspired our name, Kyria. In Greek it means “honored woman.” The epistle of 2 John is addressed to one such “kyria,” translated here in verse 1 as “chosen lady.” You may recognize the similarity of this word to kyrie, which is the masculine form of the same word, usually translated lord. We chose this name because, just like the biblical kyria, we feel it conveys something about the place of women in the life and ministry of the body of Christ, his church. We are chosen, called, and gifted for life in service to him.

Recently, after seeing an advertisement for a typical women’s ministry resource, I thought, I wonder what this verse would say if I reworked it to reflect what this advertisement says about the way Christian women should live. Here’s what I came up with:

“This letter is from John the Elder. It is written to the godly girlfriend and her BFFs, whom I love in the truth, as does everyone else who knows God’s truth—the truth that you’re too silly to handle and will remain shallowly planted in our hearts forever. May shopping, manicures, and shoes, which come from God our Father and from Jesus Christ his Son, be with us who live in fun and giggles” (2 John 1-3, Revised Pampered Women’s Version).

Sound blasphemous? Sound like something written for preteen girls? So do many resources for women. Believe me, I’m not against having fun. And I enjoy a therapeutic massage as much as the next gal with an aching back. There’s nothing wrong with a getaway, a night with friends, or a shopping trip. If ministry to women can relieve stress in healthy ways, build meaningful friendships, and help us enjoy the life God has given us, I’m all for that.

But for many women life is all about the pursuit of pleasure. Shopping, spa days, and adolescent behavior are outlets for habitual self-indulgence, which we sinful people all struggle to resist. Through the pleasures and comforts of life women try to fill the “God-shaped hole” in their lives and thus stunt their ability to grow in the faith and joy only he can provide. We should not be excusing—let alone reinforcing—this kind of self-indulgence in our ministry to women. Somehow we seem to have adopted the idea that this pursuit of pleasure is just part of being a woman. So we excuse it and use it as a basis for our ministries.

We are cheating women when we do this. Calling women to a life-changing relationship with Christ means calling them to something far greater and far away from what this world has to offer. It means turning away from the clutter and from ourselves and turning our eyes upon Jesus.
As I see what people produce in the name of ministry to women, I’m often reminded of Isaiah’s warning to the comfortable women of Jerusalem:

“Listen, you women who lie around in ease. Listen to me, you who are so smug. In a short time—just a little more than a year—you careless ones will suddenly begin to care. For your fruit crops will fail, and the harvest will never take place. Tremble, you women of ease; throw off your complacency. Strip off your pretty clothes, and put on burlap to show your grief. Beat your breasts in sorrow for your bountiful farms and your fruitful grapevines. For your land will be overgrown with thorns and briers. Your joyful homes and happy towns will be gone. The palace and the city will be deserted, and busy towns will be empty. Wild donkeys will frolic and flocks will graze in the empty forts and watchtowers until at last the Spirit is poured out on us from heaven. Then the wilderness will become a fertile field, and the fertile field will yield bountiful crops. Justice will rule in the wilderness and righteousness in the fertile field. And this righteousness will bring peace. Yes, it will bring quietness and confidence forever. My people will live in safety, quietly at home. They will be at rest” (Isaiah 32:9–18).

Compare the women’s smug, lazy comfort to the quiet peace and rest that the Lord’s righteousness brings. Who’s more comfortable than women in the western world? And when our comfort is taken away (as it inevitably is, with natural disasters, death, and danger lurking), will we find rest in the peace and mercy of the Lord? Have our women’s ministries equipped us to do so?
Many women, including Christian women, are living for their own comfort. Many are not only settling for, but building their lives around shopping, manicures, and shoes—and all kinds of other substitutes for God. This is not benign. It isn’t the basis for effective ministry to women. It isn’t to be indulged in the name of Christ. It’s idolatry.

When we worship idols, we’re rewarded with emptiness, despair, and unsatisfied desire. We pass up God’s peace and rest for temporary pleasure. If we invest our lives in shopping, manicures, and shoes, we may reap a little “fun and giggles,” but we’ll find ourselves empty because we’ve rejected the “grace, mercy, and peace” that God offers.

I’m not surprised that women in this world live for their own comfort, or even that they worship idols. I’m not surprised that Christian women (including me) are tempted to do the same. But what continues to surprise me is that this approach to life is reflected, even embraced, in Christian products for women, women’s ministry events, and the way we talk about our spiritual lives. Apparently we have very low expectations of women. We try to disguise spiritual growth opportunities in “women friendly” themes like shopping, shoes, flowers, chocolate, and pajama parties. We talk down to women as if they were preteens, unable to grasp deeper truths. Why?

Is the idea of spiritual growth so onerous to us? Are we put off by God and his call on our lives? Afraid of the responsibility such a call places on us? Do we truly believe that we are not called to live for him? That we have nothing better to offer than to get comfortable and try to look good? That he actually created us for our own pleasure? That women can’t be convinced to give up their idols and find their purpose in pursuing Christ?

And why do we believe this kind of self-indulgence is okay for women and not for men? In general, our churches are in the habit of calling men to a higher standard. What if your church sponsored a men’s retreat called “God’s Boyz Sleepover,” disrespectfully referred to them as “boys” and “boyfriends” throughout the weekend, and encouraged them to spend all weekend watching TV, sitting in recliners, eating chips, playing video games, and engaging in other stereotypically male activities in the name of Jesus—then sent them home and called it a great weekend of spiritual growth?

Of course there’s nothing inherently wrong with shoes, chocolate, or manicures. But they are not worth living for. And rather than endorse them in our churches, we ought to call them what they are: idols. Cheap substitutes for what God wants to give us.

Instead of self-indulgence, let’s call women to spiritual discipline. Instead of encouraging complacency, let’s give women a vision for life devoted to Christ. What if instead of hosting fashion shows and makeovers, women’s events featured “seasoned sisters” sharing how God has changed them and shown his goodness? What if during women’s retreats, women actually spent more time digging into God’s Word and listening to God’s voice than chatting with one another or listening to a speaker? And what if the time and money we spend on unnecessary and empty pleasures were spent on serving in the Lord’s name?

Sanctify My Mind

Second grade was a special year for Sunday school. Each month, every kid had the opportunity to take home a wooden necklace. It doesn’t sound like much, but believe me—the wooden necklace was the pinnacle of Sunday school rewards. Custom made and painted by the teachers, the necklace was an icon representing the Bible verse we had to memorize that month. Sheep, star, and pig were among the most memorable. My class specifically requested (begged for) Mickey Mouse as the final necklace of the year. Apparently the correlation to the verse didn’t matter, but it motivated us. We got the recognition of being the first class to get Mickey. Next to being first in my class on the tall balance beam during our gymnastics unit in first grade, the accomplishment still carries weight for me.

When I think about memorizing Scripture, my mind wanders back to those grade-school days. Next to spelling words and multiplication tables, memorizing Bible verses was simply a part of my education. However, toward the end of last year, I reconsidered what I associated with an elementary-school practice in order to refocus my mind and purify my thoughts.

I was struggling with fantasizing about a different situation in life, a different life, and I needed something to remind me of and ground me in my life in Christ. I thought, I need a truth to recite in times of need, when I’m tempted to be unsatisfied with life. Having little memory of the Scripture I memorized when I was young, that thought led me to one of my New Year’s resolutions: memorize at least 12 passages of Scripture in 2011, one each month. My hope being that the practice will help me train my thoughts.

It was to my great interest, then, when I came across John Wilson’s timely Books & Culture article, “Changing Forever How You Think” last month. He sums up what have been my recent thoughts and experience with memorizing Scripture:

The impact of most of what we memorize is not so dramatic as to change forever the way we think about the world. But it is real, and its consequences accumulate over time. Hence the choices we make about what to put in our mind are of lasting importance. "Memorization of Scripture," Dallas Willard writes, "is one way of 'taking charge' of the contents of our conscious thoughts, and of the feelings, beliefs, and actions that depend on them."

Wilson goes on to explain how he was spiritually challenged by a book that promoted daily Scripture memorization and renewal, and how the firmness of that conviction challenged him anew to the practice. Though I had no plans to memorize Scripture daily when I began my goal for the year (and I’m not to that point), I admit that as I started memorizing Scripture, the practice naturally threaded into the time I was spending in the Word each day. When put in Dallas Willard’s words, I was accumulating many passages that were useful in helping me “take charge” of my conscious thoughts. And why should this surprise me? As a follower of Christ, I value the truths found in the Word. Wouldn’t they be all the more meaningful then, if I could summon those truths from my own consciousness?

Memorization is certainly a discipline. It takes time and repetition. But these things make it all the more meaningful since the act of memorizing Scripture is not simply a discipline—it’s sanctification of our minds. It roots our thoughts in God’s words, promises, and being. Memorization allows us to take charge by clearing our minds of sinful thoughts and replacing them with truths.

In 2 Corinthians 7:1 the apostle Paul writes, “Dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.” Memorizing Scripture is another step toward purifying our minds and perfecting holiness. And when I become unsatisfied with life, now my thoughts automatically turn to Scripture and I can recite, “You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you” (Isaiah 26:3)—grounding the truth of my knowledge of God, refocusing my thoughts on him, shaping me to be more like Christ.

Obedience—Bah, Humbug!

I have a rebellious spirit. My mother certainly thought I did in my teen years. But then again, she liked to run a tight ship that had the efficiency of the Queen Mary, while I’m more of a put-the-canoe-in-the-river-and-see-where-it-takes-me kind of person. Not that I blame my mom. With five kids, I’d probably abandon the ship altogether.

That’s part of what made Jesus so attractive to me. He was always putting down the people who made rules, and rules always make me feel rebellious. At first, I thought Jesus was totally against rules—kind of a prototype for the 1970s hippies. But as I matured, I realized that he was extremely disciplined. After all, he fasted 40 days and didn’t strike everyone dead at his crucifixion. That takes an enormous amount of discipline.

So I came to Jesus in a carefree way, but soon hit the hard road of discipleship and found it a lot bumpier than I first thought. I was confused about Jesus saying his yoke is light, when it was certainly the heaviest thing I’d shackled myself to in my young life. I’ve learned since that this was a common saying back then. People “yoked” themselves to a rabbi to become their disciple. In other words, they followed him and accepted his teaching. And Jesus’ yoke is light compared to all those other rabbis.

Okay.

A lot of this never really made sense, though, until several years after I’d become a Christian when I heard a pastor preach a sermon from the New King James version. The passage focused on Acts 9:5, where Jesus appears to Saul (who later becomes Paul) on the Damascus road: “Then the Lord said, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’” (Other versions leave out the second sentence of this verse, but the New King James leaves it in.)

I got curious about what it meant “to kick against the goads,” so I looked it up. Merriam-Webster Dictionary says it’s “something that pains as if by pricking, such as a thorn, or something that urges or stimulates into action, like a spur.” No wonder it hurt to kick against it!

It’s a good illustration for me. And I like the way Jesus says it. Here’s Saul, violently persecuting the flock that Jesus loves, and Jesus gently says, “It’s hard for you . . .” If I were Jesus, I’d be furious! I’d want to strike down Saul for what he was doing. But instead, Jesus says, “It’s hard for you.” That’s why Jesus’ yoke is light.

I heard that sermon probably 30 years ago now, but it stuck with me. Every time I feel rebellious toward something God wants me to do, that’s the way I feel—like I’m kicking against thorns. I feel wretched and sore all over—not physically, but spiritually. So instead of focusing on how hard it is to obey him, I’m learning to focus on how easy it is to love him.