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!
