Tag: #BiblicalWomanhood

The People We Almost Walk Past: What the Good Samaritan can teach us about attention, compassion, and the lives unfolding around us

The People We Almost Walk Past: What the Good Samaritan can teach us about attention, compassion, and the lives unfolding around us

Posted on by mrsmonarch

Let’s admit it. There are seasons in life when simply getting through the day takes everything we’ve got.

We’re managing responsibilities, carrying worries nobody else can see, trying to keep our promises, and doing our best to hold the pieces together. Our minds are full. Our energy is stretched thin. And sometimes, the only thing we’re thinking about is getting from one side of the day to the other.

I understand that more than I wish I did.

Several years ago, while my mother was hospitalized for triple bypass surgery, I spent a week sleeping in a chair beside her bed. It was an exhausting, uncertain time. My usual routine of sharing daily encouragement had become sporadic, and I certainly would have had good reason to focus entirely on what was happening in my own world.

But something unexpected happened during that difficult week.

God kept directing my attention to the people around me.

There was Cheryl, who shared a cup of coffee with me in the wee hours of the morning while both her husband and my mother were experiencing atrial fibrillation. Neither of us could sleep. We were two worried women sitting together in the middle of the night, finding a little comfort in the simple company of someone who understood.

There was Gale, a sweet woman I met in the hallway. Her husband was in the oncology ward. I helped her carry her bags to the car, and we shared a few encouraging moments along the way.

And then there was the frail little man wandering the hospital corridors. He had just received bad news about his wife of sixty years. He had no one sitting beside him to pray with him, no one to help him carry the weight of that moment.

I wanted so badly to make everything “okay”. And if I couldn’t… part of me wanted to turn the other way and pretend I hadn’t seen him. I realize that sounds horrible! But— it’s painful to witness someone hurting and be helpless to change things.

I was so afraid I’d say something “wrong”. Make things worse. Or… I’d have to sit and watch him fall to pieces.

But God just wouldn’t let up. He kept prodding me. So I took a deep breath and wandered over to this elderly stranger. 

I couldn’t change his circumstances. I couldn’t make his wife’s diagnosis different or promise him that everything would turn out all right. I could only offer my presence, listen, and pray with him.

I spent about fifteen minutes with him.

Fifteen minutes out of a day that was already long, exhausting, and emotionally demanding.

But I walked away reminded of something I haven’t forgotten.

Sometimes, the difference we make in someone’s life has very little to do with what we can fix and everything to do with whether we’re willing to notice.

The people we almost walk past

I think about that hospital hallway now and then. Not because I did anything extraordinary, but because it reminded me how easily we can become so absorbed in our own circumstances that we stop seeing the circumstances of others.

And let’s be honest. We don’t have to be in a hospital for that to happen.

We’re rushing to work, trying to beat traffic, answering messages, checking things off our lists, and calculating how many hours remain before we can finally sit down.

We’re worried about bills, family problems, aging parents, difficult relationships, and decisions that don’t come with easy answers. Sometimes we’re carrying burdens that make it hard to think about anything beyond what is immediately in front of us.

Life can be demanding. Our responsibilities are real. And there are seasons when we genuinely have very little left to give.

But somewhere along the way, it’s possible to become so focused on getting where we’re going that we fail to notice who’s standing beside the road.

The woman struggling with too many bags.

The neighbor who seems quieter than usual.

The person who keeps saying they’re fine, but whose eyes tell a different story.

The stranger who could use a kind word. The friend who needs someone to listen without immediately offering advice.

We see them, perhaps. But do we really notice them?

There’s a difference.

Seeing someone is a matter of perception. Noticing them often requires us to interrupt our own thoughts long enough to recognize that another human being is having an experience every bit as real as our own.

And sometimes, that recognition is the beginning of compassion.

A familiar story with an uncomfortable question

Jesus told a story that has become so familiar to many of us that we may have stopped allowing it to challenge us.

We know it as the parable of the Good Samaritan.

In Luke 10, a man is traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho when robbers attack him. They strip him, beat him, and leave him half dead beside the road.

A priest comes along. He sees the injured man and passes by on the other side.

Then a Levite comes. He, too, sees the man and passes by.

Finally, a Samaritan approaches. When he sees the wounded traveler, he is moved with compassion. He stops, tends to the man’s wounds, puts him on his own animal, takes him to an inn, and arranges for his continued care.

Jesus asks which of these men acted as a neighbor to the injured traveler.

The answer is the one who showed him mercy.

We know the lesson. Love your neighbor. Show compassion. Help the person in need.

But I wonder if there’s another question worth asking ourselves.

How often do we pass by someone who needs us, not because we lack compassion, but because we’re too occupied with everything else to make room for it?

Scripture doesn’t tell us why the priest and the Levite kept walking. We don’t know what was on their minds, what responsibilities awaited them, or what explanations they might have offered for passing by without getting involved. 

Maybe they were total jerks! People who didn’t care about anything or anybody but themselves.

Or… Maybe, they were “busy” people. Businessmen. Farmers who needed to get back to their livestock. Weary travelers who were exhausted from their own journey and simply wanted to get back home to their families. 

That possibility should give us pause.

Because we can be busy people with good intentions, too. We can love God, attend church, care about our families, and sincerely believe in treating others well. We can even spend time talking about kindness—all while overlooking the person right in front of us.

Not because we’re heartless.

Sometimes, we’re simply distracted. Sometimes, our priorities have become so tightly packed that anything unplanned feels like an interruption. Sometimes, we’re so accustomed to moving quickly that slowing down long enough to see another person’s need doesn’t even occur to us.

And sometimes, if we’re honest, we see the need and hope someone else will take care of it.

The Good Samaritan didn’t have to solve every problem on the road to Jericho. He responded to the person whose path crossed his own.

Perhaps there’s something important for us to learn in that distinction.

You don’t have to save the world

It’s easy to assume that only BIG contributions make a difference. That the “little things” we have to offer couldn’t possibly amount to much.

Surely our contribution would be minimal. It’d only be a proverbial “drop in the bucket”. Barely noticeable… Right??? 

But here’s the thing: none of those small encounters from the hospital required me to become someone different. 

I didn’t need a special title, a platform, a degree, or an extraordinary amount of money. I didn’t have to organize a project or develop a five-step plan to change the world.

I simply needed to be willing to respond to an opportunity that was already there.

A cup of coffee. A little help carrying bags. Fifteen minutes of listening and prayer.

Small things.

But small doesn’t mean insignificant.

We live in a culture that often measures impact by numbers. How many people follow us? How much did we accomplish? How far did we advance? How much did we produce?

There’s nothing inherently wrong with measurable goals or meaningful accomplishments. Our work matters. Our responsibilities matter. The dreams God has placed in our hearts matter.

But what happens when the pursuit of bigger things causes us to overlook the smaller opportunities to love the people around us?

What good is building a life that looks successful from the outside if we’re too distracted to be present in it?

What if some of the most meaningful things we’ll do this week never make it onto a calendar, earn us recognition, or show up in anyone’s list of accomplishments?

What if the quiet act of sitting with a hurting person matters more than the task we were so determined to finish first?

We may never know the full impact of a kind word or a few minutes of our time. We may never hear how our presence affected someone after we left.

And that’s all right.

Compassion doesn’t need an audience to be valuable.

We don’t have to be the answer to every need. We don’t have to say yes to every request or neglect our own well-being to prove we care.

But we can become more attentive to the opportunities that cross our paths. We can learn to recognize when someone needs a listening ear instead of another opinion, practical help instead of empty assurances, or simply the reassurance that they haven’t been forgotten.

We can stop assuming that someone else will notice.

And we can remember that sometimes, the smallest act of mercy is the one we were uniquely positioned to offer.

What are we making room for?

There’s a question I think is worth carrying into our everyday lives.

Not as another item on our to-do lists. Not as a new standard against which to measure our goodness.

Just an honest question.

Am I so busy living my life that I’m missing the lives unfolding around me?

It’s easy to answer that question with good intentions. Of course we care. Of course we want to help. Of course we believe people matter.

But our intentions and our attention don’t always line up.

We can intend to check on a friend and let the days slip by. We can notice someone struggling and convince ourselves we don’t have time. We can rush past a conversation because we’re already thinking about the next thing we need to do.

I know how easily it happens. I suspect most of us do.

So perhaps the invitation isn’t to do more. Perhaps it’s to pay attention differently.

Look up from your phone when someone speaks to you.

Ask the second question when a friend says she’s having a hard time.

Offer a hand when you see someone struggling, if you can do so safely.

Sit for a few extra minutes when someone needs to talk.

Pray with someone who welcomes it. Send the message you’ve been meaning to send. Let another person finish telling you what happened without rushing to explain how they should feel about it.

And when you don’t have the capacity to help, be honest and, where possible, help connect that person with someone who can.

These aren’t grand gestures. They’re ordinary moments in ordinary lives.

But ordinary moments are where much of our living takes place.

For those of us who follow Christ, there’s another dimension to this. We aren’t simply trying to become nicer people. We’re learning to love our neighbors in a way that reflects the One we follow.

In Matthew 22:39, Jesus tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

That command doesn’t ask us to disappear so someone else can be comfortable. It doesn’t require us to abandon discernment or ignore our own legitimate needs.

It calls us to recognize the worth of another person and respond with love.

And sometimes, the person God places in front of us isn’t someone we would have chosen, someone we understand, or someone whose circumstances resemble our own.

Sometimes it’s simply the person whose path crosses ours.

We don’t need to know their whole story to treat them with dignity. We don’t have to understand their pain completely to offer compassion. We don’t have to be able to fix their circumstances to remind them that they’re not alone.

We just have to be willing to see them.

The heartbeats we have left

That week in the hospital was difficult. I was worried about my mother, tired from sleeping in a chair, and uncertain about what the coming days would bring.

My circumstances didn’t magically become easier because I helped someone else.

But those encounters reminded me that even in a hard season, there can be room for moments of connection, unexpected kindness, and the quiet privilege of making another person’s burden a little lighter.

We don’t always get to choose what happens to us. We can’t control every demand placed on our time or prevent every difficult season from arriving.

But we can pay attention to how we move through the lives we’re given.

We can be so busy pursuing the next thing that we miss the person beside us. Or we can learn to recognize that sometimes the interruption isn’t keeping us from what matters.

Sometimes, it is what matters.

I don’t know how many heartbeats I have left. Neither do you.

That’s not meant to frighten us or make us feel guilty about the things we haven’t done. It’s simply a reminder that our time here is finite, and the ordinary moments we tend to hurry through are part of the life we’re living right now.

So this week, I’m inviting you to do something simple.

Step off the treadmill long enough to look around.

Notice the people you might ordinarily pass by. Pay attention to the needs that don’t announce themselves loudly. Be willing to offer what you can, even if what you can offer seems small.

You don’t have to save the world.

You don’t have to fix everything.

But you might be able to make one person’s day a little less lonely, one burden a little lighter, or one difficult moment a little more bearable.

And you may never know just how much that mattered.

Because sometimes, becoming who God created us to be begins with something as simple as noticing the person right in front of us.

And that’s a heartbeat well spent!

The Woman Behind the Words

The Woman Behind the Words

Posted on by mrsmonarch

Sometimes I wonder what picture comes to mind when you read something I’ve written.

Maybe you imagine a woman sitting in a quiet office, sipping coffee while she works through her latest thoughts. Perhaps you picture a team of people helping behind the scenes, making sure the website works, the emails go out, and everything looks as polished as it does on the screen.

I hate to disappoint you, but there’s a little more chaos behind this butterfly than you might imagine.

I dedicate approximately three days a week to this ministry, and that time encompasses far more than writing.

There’s the writing and editing, preparing the Tuesday and Friday community emails, maintaining the website, troubleshooting whatever decides to go wrong, creating content to help people find the work, and learning the technical pieces that don’t necessarily come naturally.

And all of this happens alongside my responsibilities at home and caring for my elderly father, who lives seven hours away.

But this isn’t a post declaring, “Look at how much I do!”

It’s simply a transparent look inside the framework of my life—as a daughter, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a friend, a child of the Most High, and a woman trying to use the gifts my Creator placed in my spirit.

Because there’s a real woman behind these words. And she’s living life in the trenches, just like you.

I’ve built a website, learned to use email platforms, created content across multiple channels, and continued developing this ministry despite my technical limitations.

But I’ll never be a web developer. I don’t have a marketing department. And I’m certainly not an expert in every platform I use.

Sometimes I make mistakes. Sometimes something takes far longer than it should. Sometimes I have to backtrack, figure out what went wrong, and try again.

And sometimes, in the middle of everything else, something slips through.

Like last week.

I knew I’d be out of town dealing with doctors’ appointments for Dad, so I scheduled Tuesday’s and Friday’s community emails in advance.

Only I got the dates wrong.

And both emails landed in your inbox on the same day!

Well, y’all… it happens.

I could beat myself up over it, make excuses, or decide I’m not cut out for this because I clearly haven’t mastered the art of scheduling an email.

Or I can recognize the mistake, correct what needs correcting, learn from it, and keep going.

Because a mistake doesn’t automatically invalidate the work.

I’m not sharing these details to excuse carelessness or lower my standards. I care about the quality of what I do. I take my responsibilities seriously, and of course I want to improve.

But there’s a difference between pursuing excellence and expecting yourself to be excellent at everything.

Readers see the finished product. They don’t see the revisions, the learning curve, the time spent troubleshooting, or the things we had to figure out along the way.

And neither do we when we look at other people’s lives.

We see the finished website, the successful business, the beautifully presented project, the woman who seems to have found her stride.

We don’t see the years she spent learning. We don’t know what she had to work through, what she still struggles with, or what remains unfinished.

We compare our behind-the-scenes reality to someone else’s finished presentation, then conclude that we’re not equipped to begin.

But the ability to do something meaningful doesn’t require mastery of every skill it takes to accomplish it.

You can have something worthwhile to say and still struggle with the technology needed to share it. You can have a vision without knowing every step required to bring it to life.

You can be capable in one area and still be learning in another.

And isn’t that how growth works?

We often underestimate what we’re capable of because we focus on what we lack.

We tell ourselves:

I’m not technical enough.

I don’t know enough yet.

I’m not naturally gifted at that.

I don’t have enough time.

I need to get better before I put myself out there.

And sometimes, those concerns are legitimate. There are skills we need to develop, responsibilities we need to honor, and limits we need to respect.

But sometimes, we turn a limitation into a permanent verdict.

There’s a difference between acknowledging that you don’t know how to do something and deciding you can’t learn.

There’s a difference between recognizing that your time is limited and assuming that meaningful progress is impossible.

And there’s a difference between being unprepared and being unwilling to look imperfect while you learn.

You may not be able to do everything. But you may be able to do far more than you’ve given yourself permission to attempt.

You don’t need a staff, a perfect website, a complete skill set, or a flawless plan to take the next responsible step.

You need to recognize what you have, be honest about what you lack, learn what you can, ask for help when necessary, and be willing to begin.

 

Faithfulness Doesn’t Require Flawless Execution

I believe God has given each of us gifts, opportunities, and responsibilities. What those look like will differ from one woman to the next. So will the seasons we’re walking through and the capacity we have available to us.

But we don’t have to be fully equipped for every part of the journey before we take the next step.

We can pursue excellence without making perfection our price of admission.

We can acknowledge our limitations without allowing them to become excuses for staying where we are.

And we can keep learning without treating every mistake as evidence that we should never have started.

Becoming who you were created to be doesn’t happen after you’ve finally gotten everything right.

It happens as you keep responding to what you’re learning, where you’re being stretched, and what the next season requires of you.

I’m still learning. I’m still figuring things out. And I’m still showing up.

Not because I’ve mastered it all, but because I believe the work matters.

And I suspect there are things that matter to you, too. Things you’ve thought about doing, creating, changing, or pursuing—but haven’t, because you don’t feel quite ready.

Maybe you need more time. Maybe you need to learn a few things. Maybe you need to ask for help or make a plan that respects the season you’re in.

Those are real considerations. Give them the attention they deserve.

But don’t automatically mistake not knowing how for not being capable.

You don’t have to become an expert at everything before you take your first step. You don’t have to eliminate every weakness before you begin using your strengths.

And you don’t have to wait for life to become perfectly manageable before you begin becoming the woman you were created to be.

There’s a real woman behind these words. She’s got responsibilities, limitations, things she’s good at, and plenty she still needs to learn.

She’s going to get some things wrong.

And she’s going to keep going.

Because progress is messy. Transformation is beautiful. And grace makes it possible.

Maybe you can give yourself permission to do the same.

Until Next Time,
Stay Brave My Friend! 


 

Sacred Femininity: The Power of a Godly Woman

Sacred Femininity: The Power of a Godly Woman

Posted on by mrsmonarch

There is something powerful about a woman who knows who she is.

Not because she has learned how to dominate a room.

Not because she has become so independent that she no longer needs anyone.

Not because she has mastered the art of getting what she wants.

There is something far more mysterious happening.

Something we didn’t create.

Something we can’t manufacture.

Something that can’t be summoned by sheer will or explained away by human understanding.

Something God put there.

There is a depth to womanhood that we may spend our entire lives learning to recognize. A strength that is present before we have the language to describe it. A kind of sacred potential woven into us at creation—not something we have to invent, but something we must grow into.

And perhaps that is part of what becoming really means.

We learn.

We unlearn.

We discard the things we’ve been taught that were never true.

We separate God’s design from the world’s definitions.

And little by little, we begin to recognize what was there all along.

There is a God-given strength to womanhood.

And I think we’ve spent a long time either misunderstanding it, minimizing it, or handing the definition over to somebody else.

The world has its version of femininity.

The church has had its versions.

Social media has its versions.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that noise, a woman can begin to wonder:

What does it actually mean to be a woman?

Not what am I supposed to wear?

Not how am I supposed to behave?

Not how do I become desirable?

Not how do I keep everybody happy?

Not even, How do I become a “good Christian woman”?

But:

What did God actually put inside me when He made me female?

That’s a much bigger question.

And perhaps it’s time we asked it.

We Don’t Need to Become More Powerful

Women are constantly being told to become more powerful.

Be independent.

Be ambitious.

Be fearless.

Take up space.

Build the business.

Make the money.

Need no one.

And there is nothing inherently wrong with strength, ambition, accomplishment, or independence.

But somewhere along the way, we’ve quietly accepted the idea that the only recognizable form of power is the kind that looks like more.

More achievement.

More control.

More productivity.

More influence.

More independence.

More.

And yet many women who have spent years becoming “more” are exhausted.

Overstimulated.

Overcommitted.

Chronically available.

Disconnected from their own needs.

Disconnected from their bodies.

Disconnected from their families.

Disconnected from quiet.

Sometimes even disconnected from God.

We’re told we can have it all.

But perhaps we should also ask what “all” is costing us.

Because there is a strange irony in a culture that tells women they are powerful enough to do everything while simultaneously creating a generation of women who are too depleted to enjoy much of what they worked so hard to obtain.

Now, please understand. I’m not interested in unraveling every cultural contradiction in one article.

But I do think we need to stop looking to the world to tell us what a powerful woman looks like.

Because God created woman before culture ever had an opinion about her.

And perhaps we’ve been spending our strength in places that were never meant to have it.

Something Was Put Here— on Purpose

Go back to the beginning.

Before Proverbs 31.

Before marriage advice.

Before cultural expectations.

Before anyone had an opinion about what a woman should or shouldn’t be.

Go back to Genesis.

God created humanity.

Male and female.

Different.

Equal in worth.

Both bearing His image.

And the woman wasn’t an afterthought.

She wasn’t God’s second attempt at creating something useful.

She wasn’t simply a softer version of Adam.

She was created intentionally.

And when Scripture describes her as a helper corresponding to him, we should be careful not to import our modern understanding of the word helper into the text.

Because the Hebrew word ezer is not a word reserved for subordinate assistants.

Scripture uses it elsewhere to describe God Himself as a helper.

That’s worth pausing over.

Because perhaps we’ve been asking the wrong question.

Instead of:

“How can a woman help a man?”

Perhaps we should also be asking:

“What kind of strength did God intend woman to bring?”

A corresponding strength.

A strength that isn’t identical to his. (After all, why would he need MORE of what he already has??) 

A strength that doesn’t need to compete with his.

A strength that doesn’t need to become masculine to be legitimate.

Different is not diminished.

And that distinction matters enormously.

There Is a Feminine Strength

We use words like presence.

Energy.

Influence.

Atmosphere.

Intuition.

Creativity.

Warmth.

Strength.

Beauty.

Sometimes we use them without knowing exactly what we’re trying to describe.

You know the woman I’m talking about.

She walks into a room and something changes.

She may not be the loudest person there.

She may not command attention.

She may not even say much.

But there is something about her.

Something grounded.

Something alive.

Something that makes people feel safe.

Or makes them think.

Or makes them pay attention.

Or makes them want to become more honest.

We have given this phenomenon a lot of names.

And unfortunately, some of the language surrounding feminine “energy” has become tangled up with ideas that have very little to do with biblical truth.

So let’s be clear.

I’m not talking about manifestation.

I’m not talking about harnessing mystical forces to get what you want.

I’m not talking about discovering that you are divine.

The woman is not the source of her power. God is.

But that doesn’t mean there is nothing worth discussing.

Perhaps we’ve simply allowed the culture to put strange language around something God created first.

There is a particular expression of strength that belongs to womanhood.

There is receptivity.

Discernment.

Creativity.

Nurture.

Courage.

Relational intelligence.

Generativity.

Beauty.

Wisdom.

The capacity to receive something and bring forth something new.

The capacity to perceive what is happening beneath the surface.

The capacity to cultivate what has been entrusted to her.

The capacity to create an environment in which something—or someone—can flourish.

None of that is weakness.

And none of it requires a woman to become less feminine in order to be powerful.

This is what I mean when I talk about sacred femininity.

Not a mystical force we worship.

But a God-given expression of strength that we learn to recognize, steward, and surrender back to its Source.

The World Can Wear That Strength Right Out of Us

And perhaps that’s why this matters so much.

Because a woman doesn’t usually wake up one morning and decide to stop being herself.

She gets worn down.

Little by little.

She becomes the one who remembers everything.

The one who handles everything.

The one who keeps the peace.

The one who makes sure everyone else is okay.

She learns that being needed feels good.

She learns that being agreeable keeps things calm.

She learns that saying yes makes her easier to love.

She learns that having boundaries disappoints people.

She learns that her body is something to fix.

Her home is something to compare.

Her marriage is something to perform.

Her motherhood is something to prove.

Her career is something to measure.

Her spirituality is something to display.

And eventually, she may become so skilled at being everything everyone else needs that she no longer knows what she needs.

That’s not empowerment.

That’s depletion.

And sometimes we don’t lose ourselves because we are weak.

We lose ourselves because we have spent ourselves everywhere.

Perhaps that’s why rest matters.

Why solitude matters.

Why boundaries matter.

Why discernment matters.

Why learning to say no matters.

Why being honest about what God has—and has not—asked of us matters.

Because stewardship isn’t just about money.

We are also responsible for what we do with the strength, time, attention, wisdom, creativity, and influence God has entrusted to us.

What If You Don’t Need to Become Someone New?

Maybe you’re not as far from the woman God created you to be as you think.

Maybe she’s still there.

Underneath the exhaustion.

Underneath the expectations.

Underneath the comparison.

Underneath the years of trying to be good enough.

Underneath the things you were taught about what a woman should be.

Underneath the things you learned to tolerate.

Underneath the parts of yourself you silenced because they made someone else uncomfortable.

What if she isn’t gone?

What if she’s simply been covered over?

And what if becoming isn’t always about constructing a new woman?

What if it is sometimes about uncovering the one God already created?

That question changes everything.

Because perhaps the goal isn’t to become more powerful.

Perhaps the goal is to become more fully aligned with the power God already entrusted to you.

Not power over someone.

Power under God.

Power with purpose.

Power that knows when to speak and when to listen.

When to fight and when to walk away.

When to nurture and when to release.

When to build and when to rest.

When to say yes.

And when a holy, healthy, unapologetic no is the most faithful answer you can give.

The Woman Who Knows Who She Is

And this is where something beautiful happens in marriage.

A woman who doesn’t know who she is can easily become an adversary to the man beside her.

Not necessarily because she wants to be.

But because insecurity creates competition.

If she believes his strength diminishes hers, she will eventually feel threatened by his.

If he believes her strength threatens his, he will eventually try to contain hers.

And suddenly two people who were created to work together are measuring themselves against one another.

But a woman who knows who she is doesn’t need to do that.

The woman who knows who she is becomes an ally rather than an adversary to the man beside her.

Not because she disappears into him.

Because she stands beside him fully alive.

She doesn’t need him to become smaller so she can feel powerful.

And she doesn’t need to become smaller so he can feel powerful.

She can celebrate his strength because she knows hers isn’t threatened by it.

And he can celebrate hers because he understands that her strength doesn’t diminish his.

This is where I believe we have sometimes misunderstood biblical complementarity.

It’s not:

“I complete him because he is incomplete.”

And it’s not:

“He completes me because I am incomplete.”

It is something far more beautiful:

Two whole people, surrendered to the same Creator, bringing different strengths to the same calling.

That is not competition.

That’s partnership.

That’s complementarity.

And perhaps that’s what God had in mind from the beginning.

Maybe We’ve Been Reading Proverbs 31 All Wrong

Which brings us to the woman who has intimidated Christian women for generations.

The Proverbs 31 woman.

I’ll admit it.

For years, I could look at that passage and feel tired before I even got to the end.

She’s up early.

She’s buying fields.

She’s making clothing.

She’s conducting business.

She’s providing for her household.

She’s helping the poor.

She’s preparing for the future.

She’s speaking wisdom.

She’s strong.

She’s dignified.

She’s productive.

She’s apparently never misplaced her keys.

Who exactly is this woman? (And why do I feel so insignificant when compared to her??) 

But perhaps those are the wrong questions.

Because Proverbs 31 isn’t asking every woman to reproduce every activity this particular woman undertook.

It is showing us what can happen when a woman fully inhabits the strength and wisdom God has given her.

Look at her.

She is not passive.

She is not waiting for someone else to tell her what she is capable of.

She evaluates.

She decides.

She works.

She creates.

She invests.

She provides.

She speaks.

She teaches.

She prepares.

She gives.

She leads.

And Scripture says:

“She is clothed with strength and dignity.”

Strength.

Dignity.

Not because she has become masculine.

Not because she has rejected dependence on God.

Not because she has proven that she doesn’t need anyone.

Because she is fully alive within the design God gave her.

Maybe the Proverbs 31 woman was never supposed to make us feel inadequate.

Maybe she was supposed to make us curious.

Where is that woman in me?

Where do I already carry her courage?

Her wisdom?

Her creativity?

Her resourcefulness?

Her generosity?

Her discernment?

Her strength?

Where have I been afraid to use those things?

Where have I mistaken them for something un-feminine?

Where have I been taught that being a “good woman” means becoming less visible, less vocal, less capable, or less willing to act?

Maybe she’s not our competition.

Maybe she’s our invitation.

Different Battles. Different Strength.

There is another reason this matters.

Women and men do not experience the world in precisely the same way.

We aren’t fighting every battle on the same playing field.

And I don’t mean that as a limitation.

I mean it as a gift.

A woman doesn’t need to fight like a man to prove that her strength is real.

She doesn’t need his weapons.

She doesn’t need his temperament.

She doesn’t need his way of moving through the world.

She needs to know what God put in her hands.

Because imagine a battle in which half the intended forces are standing on the sidelines because someone convinced them their particular strengths weren’t valuable.

The loss wouldn’t belong only to the women sitting there.

Everyone would feel it.

The marriage would.

The family would.

The children would.

The church would.

The community would.

The next generation would.

When a woman shrinks, something is lost.

And when she rises—not in arrogance, not in rebellion, not in competition, but in alignment with God—something is restored.

The Power of Becoming Fully Woman

Maybe sacred femininity isn’t about becoming more feminine.

Maybe it is about becoming fully yourself as the woman God created you to be.

Not softer because someone told you women should be soft.

Not stronger because someone told you women should be strong.

Not quieter.

Not louder.

Not more submissive.

Not more independent.

Not more successful.

Not more desirable.

More surrendered.

More discerning.

More alive.

More honest.

More rooted.

More courageous.

More willing to use what God has given you.

And perhaps that is the sacred part.

The strength isn’t sacred because it belongs to you.

It’s sacred because it came from Him.

So don’t worship your femininity.

But don’t apologize for it either.

Don’t allow the world to define it for you.

And don’t allow anyone else to convince you that being powerful makes you less feminine.

A woman can be powerful and tender.

Wise and nurturing.

Capable and receptive.

Courageous and compassionate.

Sexual and dignified.

Independent in thought and deeply connected in relationship.

She can lead.

She can follow.

She can build.

She can nurture.

She can fight.

She can rest.

She can speak.

She can listen.

She can stand beside a strong man without competing with him.

And she can love him without disappearing into him.

Because she knows something that changes everything:

She knows who she is.

And she knows whose she is.

Perhaps that is where sacred femininity begins.

Not in becoming something the world has told you to become.

But in remembering what God created when He made you woman.

And then having the courage to become fully, faithfully, unapologetically her.

Because God didn’t make you powerful by accident.

He made you that way on purpose.

Until Next Week— Keep Becoming! 

When Leadership Becomes Authority: What Did God Actually Ask of a Wife?

When Leadership Becomes Authority: What Did God Actually Ask of a Wife?

Posted on by mrsmonarch

There is a beautiful biblical principle that can become something very different when we turn it into a rule.

A husband is called to lead.

A wife is called to submit.

A wife is described as a “helper.”

Those ideas appear in Scripture. But somewhere along the way, many of us were handed a version of them that sounded a lot more like this:

He’s the man. You’re supposed to follow him.

And if he makes the decision, you go along.

If he is wrong, you pray.

If he is irresponsible, you endure.

If he is angry, you keep the peace.

If he makes a decision you believe is unwise, you submit anyway.

If something is morally wrong, well…

He’s your husband. What choice do you have?

 

That last sentence is where I want us to slow down.

Because there is a difference between biblical submission and passive obedience.

 

Sadly, in my years of working with women, I have come to realize that a vast majority of Christian women do not truly understand that submission and passivity are NOT the same thing! 

So after considerable prayer, BTBAB is being led to train women to discern between the two.

This post will probably create some mixed feelings. That’s okay! 

We have to realize that “feelings” aren’t supposed to be the basis for our actions. And long held family, social and church traditions shouldn’t be either!

Please don’t be quick to take offense. Stay with me… and let’s explore this, step by step, using biblical examples are our guide. 

First up in the concept that: 

Passive obedience isn’t biblical maturity.

There is a kind of obedience that looks spiritual on the outside but can actually become a way of avoiding responsibility.

“He’s my husband. I have no choice.”

It can sound humble.

It can sound submissive.

It can even sound deeply Christian.

But sometimes it is simply a way of handing responsibility to someone else.

And Scripture doesn’t give us permission to do that.

A woman doesn’t stop being a moral agent because she gets married.

She doesn’t stop bearing the image of God.

She doesn’t stop having a conscience.

She doesn’t stop being responsible for what she participates in, what she teaches her children, what she supports, what she permits, or what she calls right and wrong.

Her husband’s leadership does not become her conscience.

She answers to God, too.

That matters enormously when a marriage is healthy.

And it matters even more when it isn’t.

Because if we’ve taught women that “submission” means surrendering their discernment, we have created a theological framework in which a woman can be convinced that obedience to her husband requires disobedience to her own conscience.

That isn’t a small misunderstanding.

That’s a dangerous one.

Maybe “helpmate” doesn’t mean what we think it means

Genesis 2:18 says:

“I will make a helper suitable for him.”

The Hebrew phrase is ʿezer kənegdô.

And here’s where things get interesting.

Ezer can be translated “helper,” but that English word can carry an implication of subordinate assistance that isn’t inherent in the Hebrew term. In the Old Testament, ezer is also used of God as the helper of His people.

Kənegdô conveys the idea of something corresponding to him, suitable for him, or facing him.

There is legitimate scholarly discussion about exactly how the phrase should be rendered. But what it does not give us is a simple picture of a woman created to be a lesser person standing behind a superior one.

She is his corresponding counterpart.

His partner.

The one standing beside him.

And that becomes especially interesting when we look at the women Scripture actually gives us.

Because the Bible does not present women as a collection of quiet, passive observers waiting for men to tell them what to do.

Look at the women Scripture remembers

Consider Deborah.

She was a judge of Israel. People came to her for judgment, and she summoned Barak and instructed him concerning Israel’s military action (Judges 4).

Consider Abigail.

Her husband Nabal behaved foolishly and put their entire household in danger. Abigail recognized what was happening, acted decisively, approached David, appealed to his conscience, and prevented bloodshed (1 Samuel 25).

She didn’t wait for her husband to authorize her wisdom.

Consider Huldah.

When the Book of the Law was discovered during Josiah’s reign, royal representatives went to her for interpretation. Her words carried enough authority that the king’s officials took her message seriously (2 Kings 22).

Consider Esther.

She risked approaching the king because she recognized that silence could cost her people their lives.

Consider Jael.

Judges 4 tells us that Sisera, commander of an enemy army, fled to her tent. Jael acted decisively and killed him with a tent peg. Judges 5 later celebrates her action.

Consider the unnamed woman of Abel Beth Maacah in 2 Samuel 20.

This one may be my favorite for what we’re talking about.

Joab and David’s forces were preparing to destroy her city because Sheba, a rebel against David, had taken refuge there.

This woman came out and called to Joab.

She demanded to know why a city that was described as a peaceful and faithful city should be destroyed.

She learned that Joab wanted Sheba.

Then she went to the people of the city, persuaded them to act, and Sheba’s head was thrown over the wall.

The army withdrew.

The city was spared.

And Scripture doesn’t introduce her as a queen, prophet, judge, military commander, or wife of an important man.

It simply calls her a wise woman.

She saw a problem.

She spoke.

She questioned a man with military power.

She negotiated.

She persuaded her community.

And she helped save her city.

That’s a remarkable picture of what biblical womanhood can look like.

And then there’s another unnamed woman in Judges 9.

When Abimelech attacked Thebez, a woman dropped an upper millstone on him from the tower. He was mortally wounded, and his dying concern was that no one would say a woman had killed him.

The Bible is not giving us a handbook instructing women to throw rocks at men.

Obviously.

But these stories matter because they make one thing very difficult to argue:

Biblical women are not consistently portrayed as passive, voiceless, or incapable of decisive action.

The Scriptures contain women who discern.

Women who speak.

Women who confront.

Women who persuade.

Women who protect.

Women who lead.

Women who act.

Sometimes their actions occur precisely when the men around them are failing to see what needs to be seen.

That doesn’t erase the biblical distinctions between men and women.

But it should make us very cautious about turning “submission” into passivity.

So what has God entrusted to BOTH of them?

This is the question I think we sometimes skip.

We talk about what God entrusted to a husband.

Leadership.

Responsibility.

Protection.

Sacrificial love.

Provision.

Spiritual responsibility.

And those things matter.

But what has God entrusted to the wife?

Discernment.

Wisdom.

Conscience.

Influence.

Strength.

Responsibility.

Motherhood, for those who have children.

Spiritual formation.

The stewardship of her own choices.

And ultimately, accountability before God.

Marriage doesn’t erase those things.

A husband may lead the household, but he doesn’t become the woman’s conscience.

His leadership does not cancel hers.

And her husband’s responsibility does not become an excuse for her to stop exercising her own.

This is why I think the phrase co-laborer is sometimes more helpful than the mental picture many women have been given.

Not because husband and wife have to be identical.

Not because every decision must become a 50/50 vote.

Not because biblical marriage means nobody ever follows anyone.

But because both people are responsible participants in the life God has entrusted to them.

She was not created to be his shadow.

She was created to stand beside him.

When did leadership become unquestionable authority?

This is where things get messy.

Because Scripture does speak about husbands loving, serving, protecting, and leading.

Ephesians 5 is one of the passages most often brought into this conversation.

But notice what Paul actually says to husbands.

He doesn’t say:

You are the boss. Make sure she knows it.

He tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her (Ephesians 5:25).

That’s a very different picture of leadership than entitlement.

Christlike leadership is not a blank check for authority.

It is a call to sacrificial responsibility.

And Ephesians 5 begins with a statement that matters enormously to the conversation: “submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Ephesians 5:21).

The relationship between that verse and the household instructions that follow is debated among scholars, including questions about the grammar and textual form of verse 22. There is legitimate disagreement about exactly how the passage should be structured and translated.

But there is no good reason to pretend the passage is simple.

The first-century household existed inside a very different social world than ours. The household instructions in Ephesians interact with that world while also placing substantial demands upon husbands.

So instead of grabbing one verse and building an entire theology of marriage around it, we should read the whole passage.

And perhaps ask a better question:

What kind of leadership is Paul actually describing?

Because if the model is Christ, then leadership cannot simply mean getting your way.

It means laying yourself down.

It means taking responsibility.

It means loving sacrificially.

It means using strength for the good of another person rather than using another person for the benefit of yourself.

That’s leadership.

And that’s a very different thing from unquestionable authority.

Submission is not the same thing as agreement

This distinction matters.

A wife can honor her husband without agreeing with him.

She can respect him without believing every decision he makes is wise.

She can submit in a particular area without surrendering her ability to think.

She can disagree without being rebellious.

She can say no without dishonoring him.

And she can refuse to participate in something she believes is wrong without becoming a “disrespectful wife.”

Because respect is not silence.

Submission is not agreement.

Leadership is not infallibility.

A boundary is not rebellion.

Those distinctions become especially important when the husband is making decisions that are not merely different from hers, but destructive.

What if he’s addicted to pornography?

What if he’s abusing alcohol?

What if gambling is destroying the family’s finances?

What if gaming has consumed his life to the point that his wife and children are neglected?

What if he’s having an affair?

What if he’s controlling?

What if he’s threatening?

What if he’s physically violent?

What if he is demanding that she participate in deception?

What if he is making choices that place their children in danger?

Is a wife supposed to say:

“Well, he’s the head of the household, so I have to support him”?

No.

That isn’t biblical submission.

That’s passive obedience.

And passive obedience can become a very convenient way to avoid responsibility.

A wife is not her husband’s moral shield

A woman does not become righteous by participating in her husband’s unrighteousness.

She doesn’t become more godly by helping him conceal it.

She isn’t required to lie for him.

She isn’t required to protect his reputation at the expense of truth.

She isn’t required to teach her children that destructive behavior is acceptable because “Daddy is the head of the house.”

And she certainly isn’t required to surrender her conscience because someone told her that doing otherwise would make her a rebellious wife.

Being your husband’s helpmate does not make you his accomplice.

A wife is not her husband’s moral shield.

And a husband’s leadership cannot absolve a wife of her own responsibility to discern whether the direction of their household is righteous.

Sometimes loving your husband means supporting him.

Sometimes it means encouraging him.

Sometimes it means following his lead.

And sometimes it means looking directly at him and saying:

“No. I cannot participate in this.”

That isn’t automatically rebellion.

Sometimes it is wisdom.

Sometimes it is courage.

Sometimes it is the most faithful thing a woman can do.

And then there’s the New Testament

The picture doesn’t suddenly become simpler once we get to Paul.

Romans 16 names women such as Phoebe, Prisca, and Junia in significant ways, and Paul’s letters refer to women as coworkers and people serving important roles within Christian communities.

Exactly how every title should be translated or understood is debated, particularly in the case of Junia and several terms associated with Phoebe. Modern scholarship continues to examine those questions rather than treating every English rendering as self-evident.

That matters.

Because translation is interpretation.

That doesn’t mean translations are deliberately corrupt.

It means moving words from Hebrew or Greek into English requires choices.

And English words come with baggage.

A word that sounds like “assistant” to a modern reader may not carry the same implications as the ancient term behind it.

A word translated “submit” can be understood within a larger sentence, argument, culture, and relationship.

And sometimes the assumptions of the reader become so familiar that we stop noticing them.

That’s where we need to be careful.

Some of our ideas about women may be older than we realize

Some of the most limiting ideas about women have been repeated so faithfully within Christian culture that many women have mistaken them for Scripture itself.

That is worth examining.

Not because Christianity needs to be reinvented every time society changes.

Not because modern culture gets the final word.

Not because every traditional interpretation is automatically wrong.

And certainly not because women should simply do whatever feels good.

Quite the opposite.

If we believe Scripture is authoritative, then we should be willing to examine what we’ve been taught against Scripture itself.

We should be willing to ask whether a particular teaching comes from the text—or from a tradition built around the text.

We should be willing to distinguish between:

What Scripture actually says

and

what we’ve always heard Scripture says.

Those aren’t necessarily the same thing.

So go back to Scripture

This is not an invitation to replace one authority with another.

Please don’t trade the church lady who told you what the Bible means for the internet personality who tells you what the Bible really means.

Don’t trade one guru for another.

And don’t throw Scripture away because somebody used it badly.

Open the Bible.

Not take my word for it.

Not replace one internet guru with another.

Not do whatever feels good.

Read it.

Read Genesis.

Read the stories.

Read the Gospels.

Read Acts.

Read Romans 16.

Read Ephesians 5 in context.

Read the difficult passages.

Read the uncomfortable ones.

Look at the women Scripture remembers.

Ask what the original words meant.

Ask what the surrounding culture assumed.

Ask what the text actually says.

And then ask the uncomfortable question:

Is what I was taught actually what Scripture says—or is it what generations of people have told me Scripture says?

That’s not rebellion.

That’s discernment.

And discernment is not something a woman has to surrender when she gets married.

She already bears the image of God.

She already has a conscience.

She already has responsibility before Him.

Marriage doesn’t transfer those things to her husband.

She answers to God, too.

So yes, there may be times when a wife follows her husband’s lead.

There may be times when she defers to his judgment.

There may be times when honoring him means laying down her own preference.

That’s part of loving another human being.

But there is a world of difference between choosing to yield and believing you have no choice.

One is an act of love.

The other can become passive obedience.

And a woman does not need to make herself smaller, quieter, weaker, or less discerning in order to become a godly wife.

She was created to stand beside him.

To help.

To speak.

To discern.

To encourage.

To challenge.

To love.

To serve.

To exercise wisdom.

And when necessary—

to say, “This is not right.”

Dear Ones, sometimes the most faithful thing a Godly woman can do is refuse to surrender the discernment He gave her.

I will leave you with a bit of homework this week: Read the verses I’ve provided. Ask for the Creator to show you areas where you have fallen subject to traditions that don’t quite line up with His original intent for Biblical Womanhood. You may be surprised at what He shows you. 

I pray peace and wisdom rain down upon you as you discern God’s perfect will for your current situation. 
Until Next Week—-