Christianity began when an angel showed up at a young, unwed girl’s house, announcing that she’d been honored with the privilege of carrying a baby boy—a boy who would become the hope of the nations. God chose a young, unwed mother to be mother of the One who would usher in an upside down kingdom, a kingdom where God esteems people quite differently than humanity ever has before.
It was not until I was well into my thirties that I started to see that some of my uniquely female experiences are beautiful and poignant pictures within the redemption story. Consider the motif of new life born of blood and water, pain and sacrifice.
Most evangelicals are accustomed to the Mary of icons with an emotionless face, the Mary of statues draped in a powder blue robe, and the Mary of piety who quietly and submissively obeys orders. And, if you are like me, you have been nurtured in a faith that, intentionally or not, ignores Mary.
Recently, my husband courageously wrote about his own journey toward the realization that sexual aggression toward women is not about his own moral purity, but about the worth and value of women. He was responding to his colleague’s story of a man’s verbal sexual aggression toward her just two weeks ago–in church.