Before my mind could muster up some Christianese answer like, “God is good all the time.” or “You know, it is well with my soul.” my flesh spoke for me, “It sucks and I hate my life.”
I hated typing those words as much as you probably hated reading them. Words so ungodly I feel the shame of them even now. They uncover what lingers in my heart: discontentment.
I thought about the state of my hardened heart as I watched everyone at the table eat their cake. I envied the ease of being able to eat what you desire and bear no consequence. If I would have grabbed a slice, I’d be sick later, not to mention all the other symptoms that would erupt, including those which contribute to our fertility issues. Then my mind pondered the unbelieving women who pop pills and smoke or take illicit drugs as their bellies flourish with life inside.…
Clearly, I’m not the first person to address the viral article “Men Prefer Debt-Free Virgins Without Tattoos.” And I won’t be the last, I’m sure. My purpose in writing this article is not to top any of the other rebuttals or to fully break down the ridiculous statements Mrs Alexander has made. I could write many words exposing how she has elevated marriage to be the highest goal for a woman, completely disregarding single women. I could spend a whole blog post on her comment about the need for our husbands to explain the Bible to us, as if women don’t have the capacity to understand deep theology. And I could thoroughly address her twisted view of complementarianism, her legalism and how she darkens the beauty of the gospel with it.
But I want to focus in on something I’ve found missing in the conversation: Godly men aren’t looking for tattoo-less, debt-free virgins.…
There’s a permanent indentation in my couch. The toll of first-trimester exhaustion from two pregnancies, as well as the miscarriages that ended them, has made its mark on our lives. That once new couch is just one evidence of it.
It’s been there from the beginning, delivered with it’s appalling “new furniture smell” as I fought off morning sickness. But as my nausea faded, along with the little life inside my womb, my body sunk deep into the fleeting comfort it provided. It comforted for a time, but as all false refuges do, it left me unsatisfied.
A Time to Mourn
As Solomon reminds us in Ecclesiastes, there’s a time and season for all things. Certainly, there’s a time to mourn and a season for healing, both emotionally and physically.
…a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; (Eccl. 3:4 ESV)
When sorrow swoops down like a hawk in hunting, stealing our health, taking our loved ones, and breaking our hearts, we must weep for what was lost and mourn what will never be.…
I read the email explaining the fertility paperwork and a thousand emotions bubbled up from within. “This is so overwhelming. I don’t want to do this!” I lamented and tossed my phone onto the ottoman. My husband kindly reminded me, “We don’t have to.” “We do have to! I’m not ready to stop trying, but I don’t want to do this!” Tears filled my eyes and my voice raised with every word.
I retreated to the bedroom crying monstrous tears. Squeezing my eyes shut, I burrowed my face into my pillow as if to will away the pain. It’s so easy for most people. Why is it so hard for us, Lord?
That thought echoed in my mind for some time. I knew all the truths to apply and the thoughts to cast away, but can I be honest? After losing three babies back to back to back, some truths feel less than comforting.…
I’m unsure of how to express all that I feel, but I know you see all that resides within my heart. You see my longings and my fears, my gratitude and my restlessness. Within my heart are the questions to which you alone have the answers. Will you allow our third baby to grow? How long will this baby live? Can I emotionally survive another loss, if you so choose? You know, Lord. And that has to be enough for me. Please, help my heart to rest in you—the Creator and Sustainer of life.
Creator. You are the God who created all things. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you for opening my womb and creating life again where death has reigned. I praise you for this tiny life I already love so much, despite my honest and shameful efforts to not grow attached. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of carrying this baby for however many days you have already decided.…
I fear many women are famished for the Word of God. It’s no wonder why. Many of us have been feeding on the crumbs which devotionals give rather than feasting on the Bread of life. We’ve been told as women that we can live off of those crumbs, and that the feast of deep truths and theology is better left for the men. But theology and an immense knowledge of the Bible is for every disciple of Christ.
Malnourished women of the quick-fix devo must become true women of the Word. We must move from milk to solid food. I’m excited to announce that I’ve created a workbook for the women whose hearts declare, “Give us the meat!”
For everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for thosewhohave their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.