Two years ago, I made friends with a woman in another state via social media. We communicated through Facebook and Instagram, and sometimes on Twitter. She was thoughtful, caring, and generous. She wrote about her children, her family, and the ways God was working in her life. She has several kids, and always seemed to be laughing about the ups and downs of raising a big family. I admired her, was maybe even a little jealous of her overflowing life.
Training for a marathon, becoming in tune to the world around him and his body, made Tim "[think] often of Paul’s metaphor of the church as a body. We, too, are interconnected in ways we rarely see or understand. Weak theology or a bad habit by one body part can cause crippling pain for another—so much that the entire body is hobbled. Our treatment of women (often reinforced by the church) is one example."
Just as it matters who we see on TV, it matters who stands behind our pulpits on Sundays. If the Bible teaches that women and men are both called to lead and preach (and it does), then our churches must reflect it.
Evangelical tradition places a high value on the biblical text, which is a good thing. But too often, we buy into a myth that our favorite translation is God’s true Word, pure and untainted by bias. Changes are seen as a threat to God’s truth, motivated by a social or political agenda.
My dad showed me that a great father, like a good man, is defined not by strength, but by tenderness. A great father doesn’t run from his feelings, but knows and communicates them. He is fully invested in the nurturing of his children.
Many of the stories we learn about gender show us a world where selfish fantasies are fulfilled or fears are realized, but they teach us very little about actual love. They teach us even less about who God made us to be.
Several months ago, I was invited to preach on Ephesians 5:21–6:9. I was thrilled—finally, there’d be a sermon on this passage that I actually approved of, even if I had to be the one to give it (public speaking is not my thing).