Sitting at my favorite restaurant in the middle of downtown Abilene my grandma declared these words, an amused expression across her face and voice chiming with gentle laughter.
The good kind.
The sort of laughter that isn't downplaying or degrading but rather is light-hearted and from a place of understanding and love.
My Nena has always encouraged me.
A spirit dependent wild-child, free and wandering though not often lost.
It's funny, really. My grandma has an independent streak within her, carries that 'I don't take crap from anyone' attitude and yet so many of my own independent decisions have surprised her, at least at first. She'd never get a tattoo. Though she could appreciate my diamond stud I went out and got during my freshman year of college, she recently asked me to 'please, for the love of God, do not put a bull-ring through that pretty nose of yours'. At first she didn't really understand my love of women's ministry or my desire to devote my life to teaching the Bible, but for her initial lack of being able to relate or fully comprehend my decisions she has always been encouraging. She's always been the one to back me up.
She's never turned away, never been afraid of what is unknown and perhaps even a bit intimidating to her. Before making any judgements, she's always communicated this one message: teach me.
Explain to me your decisions. Share with me your heart. Tell me about what stirs your soul, so that maybe it'll stir mine too.
And it always has.
From tattoos to nose piercings to school transfers to topic to topic to topic I've gotten to expand my Nena's horizons, and in the same way she has broadened mine. She's taught me about her upbringing, shared with me stories of her past, and instilled in me a love for vintage anything. We grow each other by interacting with each other's perspectives and personalities. We've found a way to stand united while being uniquely diverse.
I appreciate her openness more than she will ever know, for it has allowed us to connect in glorious ways despite generational differences or cultural preferences. Her openness has even taught me to open my own eyes a little more, and through our granddaughter-grandparent relationship I've learned to understand her better as a person. It's in the openness to the unbidden that both of us have grown, have learned how to better love.
So there we found ourselves sitting in the middle of a hipster bar eating veggie burgers and talking about feminism. It was a lovely conversation, free of judgement and preconceived notions. Our words were genuine, our spirits authentic. There, in the openness and freedom of table-fellowship, an aged grandma and a passionate granddaughter created a space for intellectual dialogue.
A safe place to ask questions.
A haven to seek answers.
I'm convinced that it is in spaces such as these in which heaven collides with earth.
So now, friend, I extend an invitation. Let's create such a place. Let's make this a safe space. Let's ask hard questions. Let's live our way into real answers. Let's fellowship.
Because there's a conversation waiting to happen here, right now, in this moment. Two words have been on my mind and heart for quite some time now. I want to share them with you.
Here they are: feminism matters.
If you're a disciple of Jesus, it matters. If you're a woman, it matters. If you're a man, it matters. If you're a part of the Church, it matters. If you aren't, it matters.
I know, I know. You're turned off already. I've dropped the f-bomb on you, and you're one second away from leaving this hard conversation and joining another one, an easier one that is perhaps more sugar-coated and not as messy.
My hope is that you stay. If you will, stay here around the campfire with me. Let's discuss this topic and others like it. Sure, it may be a messy conversation, but isn't that life? Don't we live the messy every day? It's hard but it's authentic. It's challenging but it's worth it.
So I invite you to this campfire sing-along. Our topics will be genuine, our words will be passionate. How about this: for the sake of love, let's bring out that old guitar. Pass it here and I'll play. Join with me in dialogue, engage with me in progressive discussion. Let's sing freedom songs to one another, let's hear each other's perspectives and allow openness to take us far.
Let's sing from our hearts, for the Spirit is pressing on us hard. I think He wants us to discuss the messy. Let's talk about our lives and what Jesus says about them. I think we have lessons to learn, growth to experience.
We all have stories to tell (after all, we're made of more than just cells).
Among my many passions is women's ministry. I love my sisters, and I yearn to see female lives living out the Way of Christ. One of my favorite sights to witness is that of a women grasping who she is in Christ. It's a beautiful happening, that 'aha' moment in which freedom comes and fear is sent running because a woman understands that Jesus is for her too.
Over the past few years, I've witnessed many moments such as these. I've actually seen the love of Christ transform the lives of real, broken, ordinary women. Transformation never comes easily, but that's what makes it so sweet.
I've seen it happen. Lord knows I've experienced it myself. His love wrecks a life from the inside out. His love is restorative. His love is cleansing. His love is inviting. His love is a reminder that Jesus is for women too, that the kingdom is for women too.
For that eighteen year old girl entering college who isn't afraid to be intelligent, who doesn't shy away from asking the hard questions.
For that too young sweet thing who opens up the deepest parts of her self to me, face tear-stained and mascara running down her cheeks, speaking words of abuse and hurt and violation and invasion. She's been too strong for too long.
For that fiery red-head, audacious and bold, who's confused by Church teachings and frustrated with some unrealistic, out of context expectation to be a Proverbs 31 woman (isn't Jesus enough?).
For that mom of a newborn whose every day is a balancing act of cooking and cleaning and loving the hubs and chasing a three year old around the room.
For that middle-aged business professional wearing high heels and an oxford button down and for the twenty-something hippie with dreads at the coffee shop.
For that gentle-spirited lovey who grew up singing in the church choir, for the rebellious runaway, bless her seeking soul, who still feels the sting of judgment from memories of the Sunday morning pews.
For the woman enslaved by extreme unbiblical patriarchy and the girl held captive to a legalistic way of life.
For the Haitian girl who's blessed with an education, whose future holds opportunity to literally change a nation.
For the woman that wants to use her gifts to the glory of God, the one that wants to teach and preach and prophecy and heaven forbid minister to the lives of other people. She's pastoring people left and right but isn't allowed to claim the title.
For the bruised. For the broken. For the beautiful ones.
You are welcome 'round this Jesus campfire, this sweet space of fellowship.
Only one message is spoken here: redemption.
In this space we reclaim our identities. We take a step back and examine ourselves. We dwell on the sweet, nourishing, life-giving words of Christ. We hold the text up next to our lives and let it transform us from the inside out. We determine how the world labels us and override such labels with how Jesus defines us.
Can I speak truth over you right now?
He calls you daughter. He calls you gentle-spirited. He calls you brave. He calls you healed. He calls you joyful. He calls you authentic. He calls you peaceful. He calls you confident. He calls you intelligent. He calls you equal. He calls you victorious. He calls you free.
Wherever you are, whoever you are I wish I could take your precious face in my hands and speak this truth out: you are loved.
Let that breath of fresh air fill your being. Let those three words instill bravery inside of you. Let that truth take root deep down.
Here, pass me that Bible. Let's open it up, let's shake off the dusty cover. These pages are as weary as our battered hearts right in this moment, because many of us have been hurt. Many of us need to drink deeply from the well of life. Many of us need to reclaim who we are, need to spend time listening to our Savior. Let's study Jesus and his topsy-turvy ways. Let's hear the Word of the Lord, let's hear him speak to women like no man spoke to a woman during that day and age.
Look, it's there in the midst of an awkward confrontation. The Pharisees (they're at it again) have thrown a woman caught in adultery at the feet of Christ. She knows she's guilty. She's quite aware of her gender and circumstance. Watch for it though, it's coming quick, too quick for the religious leaders of the day.
Freedom.
Christ speaks words of healing to her. Christ forms a shield of protection around her. Christ looks at her, exposed and vulnerable, and only outpours grace. Then my favorite part: Christ counters culture. He speaks directly to her, and what a bold move! I'm sure she was shell-shocked, the poor thing. How humanizing, how absolutely virtuous of Him to speak to her kindly, to speak to her like the human being she was.
Let's read another story, shall we? Campfires and stories are among my favorite things (along with handwritten letters and a good cup of coffee). Here's one I like, the Samaritan woman at the well. This woman was the worst of the worst: divorced, a foreigner, and female. And yet.
Freedom.
Jesus speaks to her. Jesus engages her. Jesus invites her to not only dialogue but a theological conversation at that, a conversation preserved for synagogues and rabbis and men. He welcomes her questions and points her to answers. He humanizes her and acknowledges her intrinsic worth. He knows she's not stupid. In a society that told her otherwise, Jesus called her equal. He took her seriously, He pulled out her chair and invited her to the table of grace.
There's a reason why a table is often used as a metaphor for the kingdom of God: we're all on level ground here. Jesus has invited us all to the table: men, women, children. Jesus celebrates all of us.
This really is the premise of biblical feminism, and we'll find it to be the premise of biblical masculinity as well (stick with us, guys).
It's a celebration of identity. Chin up, buttercup and lift up your head! Where many have labeled you in the past, the King calls you beloved. Where many have hurt you and used you, exploited you and abused you, the King mends your brokenness. Where patriarchy has silenced you and discrimination against your gender has clouded your hope, the King breathes into you a new message: freedom.
You are meant for kingdom things. This is the message of Jesus feminism.
Around this campfire (I'm about ready to break out the s'mores), we likely won't fit the mold of what comes to mind when you initially hear the word. The word feminist tends to have a negative connotation, but the image lived out here is a positive one.
Good vibes only, please. We enjoy our safe space, and we're very much meant for it.
We don't hate men (you don't have to be anti-men to be pro-women). We aren't strung-out on liberalism (nor are we diehard conservatives) or dead-set on abortion arguments one way or the other. We certainly don't degrade stay at home moms or rally solely for women in the workplace. Our cause is not for or against same-sex marriage. Our aim is not to destroy the traditional American family.
We're all over the board when it comes to topics such as these, and life is hardly so black and white anyway. Let's make room for the gray shades of life.
This movement is not about politics, economics, or controversies.
This transformative concept is a simple biblical teaching. It's a redemptive declaration, a celebration of who we as women, and together who we all are, in Christ.
It's the idea that what a person does should be based on spiritual giftings rather than gender.
It's the idea that clarity is brought when we study the text in context.
It's the idea that women are no less than but not at all greater than men.
It's this: Jesus loves us all. Jesus wants us all. Jesus invites us all.
Our worth, responsibilities, rights, callings.
God needs every part of all of us. He has made us all for kingdom purposes. He's invited us, men and women alike, to participate in the bringing of heaven to earth.
Sisters, let's sing this freedom song, this concept of feminism, to one another. As my friend would say, let's breathe spirit-life into one another.
We are made for such lives as these.
And this is why I'm a Jesus-feminist. This is why feminism matters.
Because too many women don't live this out, don't walk bravely with assured confidence in the One who calls them skyward.
Because too many women are marginalized. Too many women are told 'no' because of gender discrimination. Too many women are made subject in a dangerous way (rape, sex trafficking, domestic violence, inferior teachings on a 'lighter' scale) because of societies and even churches that take verses out of context. Too many women are broken and battered, scarred and downplayed because the world screams loud and they don't know what Jesus truly says about them.
And don't worry guys, a post is coming for you soon enough. I'm sorry for how our culture has labeled you. I apologize for the unbiblical expectations that have been placed upon your lives. I'm sorry for your hurts and losses, for every time someone has stared you down with condemnation, spoken death, and made you out to be a ravaging beast that can't control your sex-drive.
(Women struggle with sexual sin, too).
I'm sorry that our society often dehumanizes you or judges you. I'm sorry that women are allowed to swoon over shirtless men, that it's socially acceptable for us to post pictures of our celebrity crushes on 'Man Crush Monday' but you are labeled perverse if you make an objectifying statement about a woman.
My brothers, you are so valued in the King's eyes. You are invited to the table of grace. You are called sons of God, and you are called to kingdom things. You're called to love, called to serve, called to the ways of a disciple.
You are welcome 'round this campfire.
The s'mores are plenty. The music is harmoniously sweet. The freedom is tangible.
Won't you join us? Let's all gather together and sing late into the night. Let's clink our Apple Ales together (if that's your thing) and declare our hopeful identities to one another. Let's look into the faces of each other and speak it out: you are beloved. You are beloved. You, you, and you too! You are a child of the King.
With Jesus as our example and the Spirit as our guide, let's do hard things. Let's set aside doctrinal debates (I prefer to discuss these matters calmly over a cup of tea) and let's begin waging war on poverty. Let's fight to end sex-trafficking. Let's sponsor children that are in need and let's preach Jesus to the nations. His freedom is for us all.
Let's create safe places. Let's build more campfires, let's have more food-fellowship. Let's study the life of Jesus and simply be His disciples. Let's do it together, doesn't that sound marvelous? I think even Paul would agree, though he certainly had some choosy words to say about women.
Though his words are more progressive than you might think.
Let's talk about those words, would that be alright? Let's study the Greco-Roman culture and delve headfirst into the biblical text. Let's consider context. Let's be smart and wise, loving and humble as we grow in all areas: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.
Let's follow Jesus to the cross.
I'm talking all the way, no half-hearts here. Let's get on our knees and start washing feet. Wow, that'd be powerful. I want to do it. I want to live in love. I want to be brave more and I want to live love well. I want to be faithful with this freedom. I want to live the messy with you. I want us to be transformed: mind, body, and soul.
Restoration isn't a partial experience. No, dear friend, it's a full-on renovation. It's a redemptive change from the inside out.
In the coming posts, let's talk about these things. Let's talk about men, women, straight, gays, lesbians, and transgenders. Let's discuss gender roles and cultural elements. Let's smoke marshmellows and eat them burnt, ooey gooey and oh-so-great, and as we sit together on these old wooden logs let's sing. We might be off key, but that's alright. Our hearts will be from a pure place. The songs will find harmony somewhere along the way.
I want to talk about these things, because the rising generations need to hear about them. We need to use our words. Let's talk about grace. Let's talk about the Bible.
Let's jump on board with this Jesus movement.
Let. Us.
Two words that stir my soul.
I need to give a special thanks to Sarah Bessey, a truth-seeking woman that has inspired me with her life and words. If you haven't yet you should give her book a read: Jesus Feminist. It's truly a glorifying-to-God piece of work.
A shout-out to Emily Maynard, Bethany Suckrow, Rachel Held Evans, Jennie Allen, and various other women of the Faith who live that balance of being courageous yet gentle-spirited in the midst of a chaotic and messy world. Your kingdom-centered lives teach me to love better and point me to Jesus.
