Editor’s note: This is a CBE 2023 Writing Contest Winner!
“The plane has crashed, and there are no survivors.” Upon hearing those words, every bit of strength drained from me. I sank to my knees and cried out to God. My beloved husband of twenty-two years was gone. How was I to go on?
That was the first of many questions I had as a young widow. I lay in bed at night, hurling inquiries heavenward: Lord, I was “one flesh” with my husband, so what am I now: half a person? Am I without spiritual protection or guidance? And the biggest question of all: Who am I?
I didn’t expect the answers to come quickly. I was grieving and adjusting to life as a single mother with four children, ages nine to sixteen. While attending to countless legal and financial details, I was granting interviews to news reporters. How was it that I was taking breaks from homeschooling and laundry to make bold public statements about trusting in God’s love and sovereignty for the six o’clock news? In the midst of those surreal days, a friend called, encouraging me to read the opening verses of Psalm 40:
He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay; And he set my feet upon a rock, making my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and will trust in the Lord. (Ps. 40:2–3 NASB)
Recalling the televised scenes of the wreckage in a desolate field, I was consoled as I imagined my husband being lifted from that pit of destruction to a place of eternal safety and joy. Yet when I read it again, the psalm echoed strangely in my heart like an anthem I had never heard, but to which I somehow knew all the words. I wondered. Might I, too, have a solid new place to stand? Might I have a new song to sing?
The “Good Wife”?
My husband had been a successful businessman and church leader. As a “good Christian wife” who had spent most of her adult life adhering to complementarian church teaching, I was happy to be his “helpmeet,” tending to hearth and home. We embraced the principles of male headship and wifely submission as God’s best plan for family life, teaching them at church and to our children.
I was fortunate my husband was a kind and godly man who respected me, sought my counsel, and was unthreatened by women in any realm, so I rarely experienced the downside of imposed gender roles. I never questioned the system, much less my purpose or identity—until I stood alone without the protection, provision, and leadership of a man.
Little did I know how widowhood would compel me to examine my womanhood.
Gleaning from Ruth
An extraordinary aspect of the tragedy was that two of my friends became widows the exact moment I did. All our husbands had worked together and were on the ill-fated plane that day. In our shared sorrow, we couldn’t have asked for a better friend than theologian Carolyn Custis James, who came one day to offer her condolences and practical help.
“Will you lead us in a Bible study? That’s what we really need,” one of my widow friends responded.
“I’d be honored.” She hesitated. “But what would you like to study?”
“What are you studying?” Her eyes grew wide. “The Book of Ruth,” she almost whispered. We all looked at each other in awe. An ancient story of three widows with three choices: go back to the familiar, trudge along in bitterness, or stride forward with faith into the unknown. We knew “the gospel of Ruth” was exactly what we three modern widows needed to hear.
I thought I knew this story well. I’d heard all the sermons portraying Ruth as a damsel in distress, waiting for a Boaz to rescue her, but that’s not the Ruth I encountered in this widow’s cohort. Carolyn’s brilliant exegesis introduced me to an immigrant from Moab intent on restoring her Jewish family to wholeness, soaking in Yahweh’s favor and lovingkindness (in Hebrew, hesed) while working tirelessly to provide for herself and her mother-in-law. Ruth was at great risk of being misunderstood, maligned, or even abused. Yet she persisted. She presented a bold plan to Boaz, and he agreed to it. She went off-road in a man’s world. I was smitten with this new take on widowhood.
Drawn to other scriptures on the widow’s plight, I moved through them like Ruth in a gleaning field, discovering God had a special spot in his heart for women like me. I marveled that God was “a defender of widows” (Ps. 68:5 NIV) and would “be like a husband” to me (Isa. 54:5 GNT). He promised to rebuild my broken walls (vv. 11–12) and shower me with more of that rich hesed (v. 8). He would make me strong and keep me safe (v. 14). One by one, I gathered these promises in my basket of hope.
My initial cry of fear was starting to become a song of praise. And God was giving me a secure, new place to stand. Infused with the spirit of Ruth, I kept piling sheaves in my basket, spilling out the bounty to others. When the invitations to speak came, I said yes to all of them. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was doing anything extraordinary or counter to the culture I had been steeped in. Yet there I was, a woman speaking before mixed audiences, many of them Southern Baptist—all without the authorization, covering, or blessing of a husband or pastor. Perhaps I got a pass on the “women can’t teach men” prohibition because it was my personal testimony, but testimonies both preach and teach. The honest questions and sincere thanks of men who spoke to me after my talks confirmed that.
Out of the Woodwork
I began searching my Bible for other strong women like Ruth. The list grew, and so did my amazement. Kings and priests consulted Huldah the prophetess. Esther risked her life and saved her people. Deborah was a judge and prophetess who also went into battle. Brave midwives defied Pharoah and saved Moses. His sister, Miriam, was a prophetess who helped Moses lead the Israelites in the wilderness. Tirzah and her sisters went boldly before Moses to ask for the right to receive their deceased father’s property, with the stunning result of changing the inheritance laws in Israel forever.
Female disciples followed Jesus and supported him financially (Luke 8:2–3). He spoke freely with women in public, engaging them in spiritual debate and praising their faith and courage. Jesus commended Mary for sitting at his feet as a rabbinical student and sent a woman, Mary Magdalene, to proclaim his resurrection to men!
I read the Apostle Paul’s glowing praise of many female co-workers who served and led in the early church like Phoebe, Priscilla, and Junia (Rom. 16:1–7), and noticed there were no gender labels assigned to a single spiritual gift listed in Romans 12. I was dismayed that a handful of Bible verses (constituting what many scholars deem situational advice to certain churches and individuals) has been used to override women’s countless contributions to God’s work, and to silence and immobilize half the church. Paul would remind us all “[t]here is neither Jew nor Greek; neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28 CEB).
I went back to my old marriage materials and reviewed God’s original mandate to Adam and Eve: to reflect his image and do his work in the world together (Gen. 1:26–28). No assigned roles, no hierarchy, just equal partnership. The “Blessed Alliance,” Carolyn called it, noting that unmarried men and women were not excluded from this assignment.
From beginning to end, the Biblical record was clear and thrilling: God created his daughters to bring hope, healing, and shalom to a broken world. And I was one of them.
A New Song
I am once again a wife to a godly man who encourages me in all my giftings. For twenty years we’ve supported and served on the board of a ministry that empowers marginalized women to rise above injustice. Many in our programs are widows. I tell them when we meet that even though I’ve remarried, I still have a widow’s heart. We exchange nods and smiles, our eyes silently saying, Hello, my strong sister.
I am no longer mired in doubt. The place I stand and the song I sing are God-ordained. I know who I am and what I can do, with or apart from my brothers in Christ. I had found the answers to my questions—along with my true purpose and identity—on the unlikely path from widowhood to womanhood.
Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.
Related Resources
New Voices: Subversive Grandmother & Tenacious Widows: Kat Armas’ Abuelita Faith
The Poor Widow Who Gave at the Temple: Narrative Logic in Mark 12:41–44
Not Alone: 11 Inspiring Stories of Courageous Widows from the Bible