Conversations over the last few days have convinced me I need to repeat myself on certain matters. I recognize that I am an unusual woman in some ways so it will be hard for other women to wrap their heads around this. But, just as you ask me not to judge you too harshly, I ask that you return the favor.
I am smart, passionate, and I never settle for the easy answer. This will be hard for some to believe but I count Rachel Evans as one of the women in this world I would most like to have lunch with. When my friend L and I went to the same church, whenever our pastor joined us for lunch, he would sit back, cross his arms and watch the show. We LOVED arguing theology and we weren’t afraid to use the “H” word and mean it. I like Rachel Evans and Mimi Haddad and countless other feminists and would welcome the chance to break bread with them. In fact, as I write this, I am sitting in the same restaurant where Mimi Haddad and I had lunch the day she asked me to move to Minneapolis and join the national staff of CBE.
But, as I said, I never settle for the easy answers and that’s what religious feminism is – the easy answer made so by our surrounding culture. I mean, honestly, what woman in her right mind and in this culture would voluntarily cover her heard during corporate worship? Perhaps this is evidence that I am not in my right mind, but I do. That’s not easy. Not for a moment. But then, it is remarkably easy once you recognize you’re not the one in charge.
The precipitating reason I decided to write this post now is one aspect of those conversations I have watched and participated in over the last few days. I want to be very clear here — I am not passionate and uncompromising in the battle against the feminist heresy because I was treated badly by “Egalitarians”. I am passionate and uncompromising because I know that world from the inside out and I want to spare others the pain of discovering the mold eating away the heart of that pretty vision of flawless “mutuality”. Those lost friendships are a vanishingly small price to pay for the grace of repentance, the foundational peace and the joy in knowing that my Lord loved me enough to bring me to my knees, to bring me face to face with my own arrogance and the delusion that *I* knew the way things were really supposed to be. He brought me to that low place where I had to recognize that I was not the one in charge.
You see, I had to beg His mercy, to say that I would serve him, though he slay me. That I would serve Him even if He had really made me something lower than a male human being.
What I found was that I was made to be so very much more. He showed me that true authority doesn’t lie in formal titles or the privilege of ordering others around. True authority lies in submitting, submitting to His will.
So yes, I will still be bold, too direct for many women. And I won’t hesitate to name the heresy of religious feminism for what it is. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love and wouldn’t enjoy the company of heretics and sinners. It is because I’ve seen the pain and sorrow that I won’t shy from warning others away. My biggest fear is not that my boldness will lose me friends.
My biggest fear is that for some, it may already be too late.