Free. It’s so familiar, a gospel fundamental. The Lord saves us and sets us free from sin. We don’t have to obey our former master anymore.

This morning, cuddled up with my nursing baby, and prepping for a Bible study, I came across those words again, “freed from sin.” I don’t have to serve sin. But I could. I could still obey sin, otherwise there wouldn’t be any words of warning against letting it reign in my mortal body. But in order to obey, there has to be a command. And that made me wonder, what does the command sound like? How do I hear my former master’s voice?

I hear it in my flesh, my “mortal body,” “in the lusts thereof.” It is the overwhelming feeling that I must do something wrong. The anger welling up within me when I do not get my way, the jealousy that taunts me when I see what others have that my flesh desperately wants, the selfishness, dissatisfaction, the compelling frustration, the feeling that I just “can’t help” being closed in on myself and joyless, the sin, like instinct; these things that seem to come from within me, that whisper that this is who I am, inescapably, without hope of control, that tell me I can’t, I can’t say no, I must feel this, and maybe scream, or yell, or make someone else feel as bad as I do–they are the commands, they are the sound of my former master’s voice. Authoritative. Powerful. To hear is to obey.

But I am free.

This is nothing more than shouting in the street. I do not have to listen. I can simply walk away.

I used to be so bothered by these attempts at returning me to slavery. I was torn, squirming, guilty that I was feeling this or that, and yet feeling such compulsion to wallow in it and act on it. “I’m having a hard day.” “I’m sorry I said that, but you just made me SO MAD.” “I can’t help that. I’ve always felt like that, ever since I was a little girl.” “If you just knew what this person or that person did to me, then you’d understand why I have to be this way.” But lying there with my Bible study, I realized that what freedom means is that I actually can just turn away. I don’t have to be upset about all these feelings and compulsions anymore. My flesh can shout all it wants. I do not have to obey.

Obviously, there is no hope of rejecting my former master’s commands if I am not clinging to my new Master, the Lord Jesus Christ, who set me free to serve Him. It is only through His power that I have any hope of escaping. But through His power, I can reject even the sin of my own flesh, the voice of my former master.

I am free.

Jesus answered them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin….If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. –John 8:34,36

A quick look at stats can be staggering. Every two minutes, someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted. One in six women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. Only six per cent of rapists will ever spend a day in jail. It’s horrifying.

But we are not truly helpless. Each one of us has the potential to change the tiny segment of society that we are in contact with every day. We are the salt of the earth, each of us is a grain of salt on rotting flesh, slowing the decay, spreading truth, and preserving life in the face of death. So what is the truth that preserves life in this case? What is the antithesis of a rape philosophy?

Some would say that the fundamental issue is equality. We need to encourage more respect of women’s fundamental equal value. If men didn’t see women as lesser beings, then they wouldn’t treat them as consumables. And certainly, respect for equal value is a part of the necessary attitude, but it can’t be the whole story. College campuses are some of the most egalitarian, almost artificially respectful environments, and yet one in four women will be sexually assaulted on a college campus. Respecting a woman as a microbiologist or creative writer seems to have little effect on whether a man feel free to use her body for his own entertainment.

Now someone’s going to argue that those college guys who rape their classmates at frat parties don’t really respect the equality of women. I’d wager that the majority of frat boy rapists are thoroughly in favor of “equality.” Women should be treated just like men in voting, academics, the job market, and in the every person for him or herself world of sexual fulfillment where “I want what I want and I assume you do, too.” And “I want your body, so I’m going to take it. Why should I stop just because you said, no? Why is what you want more important than what I want? We’re equals. Let’s have a tousle for it. If you win, maybe you can run away, but if I win…” Which, by the way, is exactly the way men treat each other. Men “rape” other men all the time. It just isn’t always physical.

The most crucial attitude is not merely one of respecting equality, but of actively cherishing women. A man with an anti-rape philosophy protects women rather than abusing them, or even just leaving them to fend for themselves. It’s not that he thinks of a woman as his equal but that he recognizes the places where she isn’t and takes it as a sacred responsibility to man up and defend her, sacrificially if he has to. The average man is capable of physically overpowering the average woman. If he does not cherish her, if he views his own desires as the highest value in the universe, then all he needs is opportunity, and another statistic goes down on the rape pages.

Cherishing starts when a man understands that women do not exist for his enjoyment, that their beauty is not an advertisement for a free buffet, that he has no right to any woman’s body, and that women deserve to be valued, protected, and defended, not just because they’re smart, or gifted, or in any other way worthy of respect, but because they are a weaker vessel, meant to be honored like fine china is meant for hand washing and careful stacking, not rough chucking over the backseat of the car like a fry box after a hasty meal. Cherishing means a man is guarding his daughters and watching out for his sisters. It means he’s checking up on what men they’re with and what their intentions are. It means he’s giving other men the message that he will not leave women alone in the world. It means taking away opportunities from men who are looking for them. 1 Peter 3:7 is addressed to husbands, but I think it gives a fair assessment of how God views women and the way He wants them to be cared for.

Likewise, ye husbands, dwell with them according to knowledge, giving honour unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life; that your prayers be not hindered. –1 Peter 3:7

Instilling this attitude in our sons is a tiny positive step we can take towards making sure that our daughters live in a safer world.

The danger comes when people place all their hope in movements, as if following them will necessarily result in the Lord’s blessing. We think we’re in a bargain with God. “OK, God, I’ll do the modesty thing, give my daughters purity rings, and buy homemaking units from Christian Light. I expect you’ll have  flawless husbands lined up by my girls’ twenty-first birthdays. (Definitely not those real guys who sin and make mistakes and call weddings off or don’t even propose.)” And we get really excited about our bargains with God, smug even. “I’ve found the secret. No more trouble for me and my family. We’re in the inner circle now. Yessirree.” We don’t notice that an idol has slipped in, that we’ve put our faith in something else, that now that we have the formula, we don’t really need God, except at the end of each little project, when He’s supposed to reward us with the blessings we so richly deserve. Peace. Security. Health. Happiness. Well-behaved, godly children who love to pass out tracts, start home businesses, and marry young.

Sometimes the movement becomes a litmus test. “The So-and-so’s say they’re Christians, but” (and here the eyebrows rise knowingly) “they send their kids to public school.” We love them just a little less. We’re disappointed. We label them with the ultimate movement junkie insult, not likeminded, and go on to better friends, friends who are “godly” enough to do all the same things we’re doing.

But then one day, something dreadful happens. Someone’s life gets messed up (maybe it’s even your life that didn’t turn out as advertised). The movement failed to protect us from sin and human frailty. People who practice courtship can wind up getting their hearts broken. I’ve seen it. People who give control of their wombs to the Lord can wind up facing serious health problems. I’ve seen it. People who grow up in large, “perfect” homeshool families can wind up not even saved. I’ve seen that one, too. And these “failures” can be devastating. They can lead to crises of faith, anger at God, and ditching the movement that let us down. We may even become outspoken antimovement evangelists, warning others away from such pernicious programs and dissociating ourselves from everything that reminds us of the movement we left. You may give up patriarchy after your patriarchal father destroyed your family with an affair, and in the process toss out modesty and homeschooling just because they remind you of the people who wrecked your life.

We would be spared a lot of pain if we remembered that a movement is exactly that, a movement, motion in a direction. A movement is not a destination. The destination needs to be God, knowing Him, serving Him, becoming like Him. The destination is the point, not the directional motion. When the directional motion becomes the point, we can take things to extremes. We may need to drive west to get to Chicago, but once we become enamored with westward motion, we run the risk of blowing right on by and ending up in the Pacific ocean. We need to constantly reevaluate where we stand relative to God’s perfection. And the appropriate direction to move is always towards godliness, which may or may not be deeper in to the movement du jour, just as someone in Detroit needs to go west to Chicago, but someone in Seattle has to go a long way east. Take the Quiver-full movement for example. Someone who thinks that children are little life-disrupting leaches to be avoided at all costs probably needs to move in a Quiver-full direction in order to understand the heart of God towards little ones. But someone who has made the Quiver-full movement the point, who views family size as a measuring stick of relative godliness and looks down on people with lower fertility, probably needs to move away from the movement as an idol and refocus on the Lord.

We may do all the same things that people in movements are doing (and in fact, all the examples of movements that I used in the first paragraph were things that my family is actually living out right now because we genuinely believe they are beneficial directions for us to go in), but we need to do everything, not simply for its own sake, but because when we look at the Lord and where we fall short, we see that moving in these directions brings us closer to walking in His ways. It is drawing close to Him that brings peace, security, and happiness. When He is our delight, we are able to weather the storms of sin and human frailty. The point is His glory. He is our Messiah. No movement can ever take His place.

***

Once upon a time, Mrs. Jones gave her two children, Bobby and Suzy, chores to do. Bobby was told to take out the trash, and Suzy was assigned dishwasher duty. Then Mrs. Jones left for an all-day homeschool conference, and Bobby and Suzy got to work.

After emptying the bathroom wastebaskets, Bobby walked through the kitchen on his way to the trash bins in the garage, “Mommy thinks I’m smarter. That’s why she gave me the best job.” Suzy didn’t say anything.

As Bobby took the first big black trash bag down the driveway, Suzy saw Mr. Peterson wave as he pulled out of his driveway. The kitchen door banged as Bobby walked back through, announcing, “Mr. Peterson thinks I’m such a hard worker. He knows that I really love Mommy because I do such important jobs for her.” Suzy shoved the silverware drawer shut and stared at the mountain of dirty dishes.

Bobby pulled the trash bag out of the kitchen garbage can and headed back towards the garage. “You have to really be responsible to take out the trash,” he called over his shoulder, “and strong.”

“I’m responsible,” said Suzy to the dish soap. “I’m strong. And I love Mommy. I could take the trash out. Probably better than Bobby. Then Mr. Peterson would think I was a hard worker, too.” She dropped the plates recklessly into the dishwasher and threw the dirty forks into the silverware tray. “This is a ridiculous job. No one should have to do dishes. We’ll use paper plates for the rest of the day, and then I’ll take the trash out.”

Bobby didn’t really mind using paper plates. At first it seemed a bit strange, but he quickly forgot about it. If Suzy didn’t want to get the regular stuff out, it probably didn’t matter. He did notice, however, when Suzy started lifting the kitchen trash bag out to take it to the garage.

“Hey, you can’t do my job! You’re supposed to be in charge of getting the dishes done! Mommy assigned the trash to me!”

Suzy looked at the one lonely pan they had used to reheat their leftovers. “Are you saying that all I’m good for is washing one little pan while you take out bag after bag of garbage?”

***

OK, now let me ask you a few questions.

1. Based on the job assignments, which child do you think Mrs. Jones liked better?

2. Based on the job assignments, which child do you think Mrs. Jones felt was smarter, harder working, and more responsible?

3. Based on the job assignments, which child do you think had the best opportunity to show love to Mrs. Jones?

Remember your answers, we’ll come back to them.

This little story reflects something that I think has happened in the Church. God handed out some assignments, too, and many men and women have responded very much like Bobby and Suzy did.

God told men to be leaders in the Church and gave them shepherding and preaching roles. He gave women a lot to do as well. In 1 Timothy, in a discussion of the kind of widows the Church should care for, we get a picture of the life a godly woman should live.

…having been the wife of one man,  Well reported of for good works; if she have brought up children, if she have lodged strangers, if she have washed the saints’ feet, if she have relieved the afflicted, if she have diligently followed every good work. –1 Timothy 5:9-10

We can find another assignment for women in Titus 2:3-5, where they’re commanded to teach younger women

…to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, To be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.

But then, somewhere along the line, (with no input from God on the subject) we decided that men had the best jobs, and the idea developed that maybe God thought men were smarter (you know, because it takes so much more brain power to preach than it does to make complete strangers feel welcome in your home). And then we started thinking that people with the visible jobs were the hard workers, the ones with strong faith, who really loved God. And women, who knew in their hearts that they also had strong faith and loved God, decided that they wanted to be the leaders, too. Probably they could do a better job than the men, and then everyone would see how hard working they were.

Those jobs God gave to women started to look pretty ridiculous. No one should have to bring up children and relieve the afflicted.

And then we got out the paper plates. Birth control can save us from needing to bring up more than one or two children. The strangers can just check in to the local Holiday Inn. As for the saints, they can wash their own stinky feet (the bathroom’s the first door on the left). If you’re feeling afflicted, I’m sure there’s a nice ministry somewhere that addresses your need, or maybe a government program. Have you looked online? Diligently following every good work sounds so nebulous. Who knows what that means? We still like to teach younger women (and older ones, and men!), but God’s curriculum doesn’t seem so relevant these days. After all, no one needs to be taught how to do dishes when we have paper plates.

There were a few dissenters, who missed eating off china, but for the most part, the paper plates went unnoticed by most men in the Church, even the conservative ones…until it came time to take out the trash. Then the conservative, Bible-believing men woke up, and said, “Hey, you can’t preach! God assigned that to us. The Bible says you’re supposed to be silent in church and not usurp authority (1 Corinthians 14:34, 1 Timothy 2:12).”

And then the women looked around at a lonely world where no one seemed to need them, and said, “Are you saying all I’m good for is popping out a couple of kids and keeping my square foot of pew warm?”

OK, now back to those questions I asked a little while ago. Could you tell from the job assignments which child Mrs. Jones liked best, or how smart, hard-working, or responsible Mrs. Jones thought each of her kids was? Did one or the other of them have a better chance of showing love to their mother?

No, of course not. They were just jobs. Each child had an equal chance to work hard and show love to Mrs. Jones simply by being obedient in the specific jobs she had given them. The trouble started, not because Mrs. Jones thought one of her children was more capable than the other, or even because one job was intrinsically better than the other, but because her children arbitrarily decided that one job was better and that the job’s superiority somehow meant something.

And so it is in the Church. There is nothing intrinsically better in teaching an adult Sunday school class than there is in relieving the afflicted. It’s just that some people arbitrarily decided that there was. And the consequences are far worse than extra trash in the landfill. Those jobs that God gave women are actually really important, and the Church genuinely suffers when they don’t get done.

The pride, the jealousy, the misrepresentation of God’s purposes, AND the fact that half of the assignments He gave the Church have been turned in for paper plates mean that we’re falling far short of fulfilling God’s design for His people. We’ve all gotten so used to this stunted, imbalanced type of church, where everyone vies for one group of jobs and neglects the other, that when people get their Bibles out and read that women aren’t supposed to be preaching and leading, it doesn’t even occur to a lot of them that there is so much we are supposed to be doing that if we tackled half of it, we’d be so exhausted it would be laughable to think we’d even have time to preach. Instead the message is often simply, “Sit down and be quiet,” or in other words, “Paper plates are totally fine, just hands off the trash.” Hence the lack of vision.

The solution is for all of us to be humble, to love and appreciate our brothers and sisters and all the jobs that God has given us, and to open up that dusty cupboard, get out some real dishes, and see how exciting it can be when we’re all showing love to God through obedience.

…writing about the love of God should always, always take a back seat to opportunities to actually show real human beings in front of you the love of God.

Her story (as is typical of Jennifer) is a great read with a great lesson. Check out A Very Imperfect Fiat.

I’m an introvert…and a perfectionist…and my house has an open door policy. We host a church meeting/fellowship meal once a week, and have guests over usually at least once a week also, and frequently that is entirely spur of the moment. Sometimes we’ll have company multiple nights in a row. My husband and I feel really burdened to love people through meeting their needs, and that so often means giving them a meal and spending time with them. Did I mention I’m an introvert and a perfectionist? Oh, and I have four small children. It’s been a stretching experience.

Here’s what I’m learning.

Treat every day like company’s coming.

In the old days, you know, before we had multiple children, I would spend the entire day getting ready for company that was coming in the evening. I cleaned the bathroom, vacuumed, dusted, and cooked.  We moved our piles of stuff and unsorted mail out of the living room and hid it away in the back bedrooms. Then when every one arrived, they were welcomed into a clean, uncluttered environment, with lots of yummy food, made from scratch.

I can’t do that anymore.

For one thing, it’s been years since I was able to devote a whole day to any one thing. And if having people over meant that level of schedule clearing, we would hardly ever get to do it, because I have to keep the laundry going, library books returned, and shopping done. And as much as my kids might like it, we really can’t cancel homeshooling every time we want to have company over for dinner.

The freedom to invite people over spur of the moment, and even the freedom to have people come during the week when I’m also trying to homeschool and keep up with everything else, depends on never letting the house fall into total and utter disarray. I can’t save all my cleaning up for the day that guests are coming. I can’t let piles of stuff accumulate in the living room. We need to keep our home basically in “company” shape all the time, so that with only a quick clean up, we’re ready to enjoy our guests. I try to keep chipping away at things on a regular basis, getting a little cleaning done every day (usually in the morning, when the baby’s the happiest) and continually tidying up toys, and mail, and school supplies, so nothing ever looks too shocking. (Notice that I said, “try.” It doesn’t always work out quite like I plan.)

Friendly trumps fancy.

I love to cook (especially dessert). And if I’m going to have company over, I want to pull out all the stops and make a huge amount of fabulous, gourmet food. I used to have the freedom to do this quite a bit, but now that I’m investing so much in my own family, “company” meals have gotten simpler. This grates on my perfectionist nerves no end. It’s especially hard when we realize it would be such fun to be able to share a meal with the neighbors, who’ve been kindly helping with yard work, or with a friend from church that we ran into at the store, and then I’m face to face with not having spent the whole day cooking. There’s always a part of me that wants to scream, “NO, we can’t have them over. I have nothing impressive to serve!”

But friendly trumps fancy. Of course, it’s lovely if I can put on a feast, but if I have to choose between a simple meal that we get to share with guests and not having guests over at all, then simple wins. Besides, I know that when the tables are turned, and I’m the guest, I much prefer feeling loved and included rather than kept at arm’s length and only invited in when things are lavish.

Put family first.

It doesn’t do any good to try to take care of other people if my own family is suffering, and I never want my children to feel like they’re in my way or like I love other people more than I love them. If I’m trying to get ready for company and one of my children needs something, then it’s time to stop a minute and take care of my child, even if it means that I have one fewer dishes on the table that evening, or that dinner is slightly late. This is another place that my perfectionism gets stretched. But I would so much rather be a perfectionist about loving my children than a perfectionist about how my table looks.

Pride is NOT invited.

Being the perfectionist that I am, there is always the temptation to think that the reason we have people over is to show them what a beautiful home I keep, and what a fantastic cook I am, and, of course, what angelic, well-behaved children I raise. Surprisingly, this is not actually a good reason to have people over. Welcoming people into our home just so they can be awed by me is not really hospitality. Hospitality is sharing what we have and focusing on others so they can feel loved and valued. Therefore, it follows that if I’m blessed with company on a less than impressive day, then I just need to chill and share.

Sometimes this is really hard, especially when I’ve failed to take to heart one of the first three lessons, like when new people visit our church, and I think, “Wow, it surely would be nice to have them over and get to know them a bit, BUT aaargh, I didn’t do the breakfast dishes because we were late, and the table isn’t wiped! They’re going to see crumbs!!!  And the toddler’s wet clothes from the last potty accident are still hanging in the bathroom. And I didn’t make the children put away their toys in the living room before we left for church. And, and, and, they’re going to think I’m a slob.”

Or maybe they’ll think just I’m a real human being who wants to reach out to them. And maybe that’s the biggest thing I’m learning about hospitality. It works as a lifestyle when we can be who we really are and just reach out.

Differences make people uncomfortable. There’s that nagging implication that someone might be wrong, or worse even than that, there’s the worry that someone might be snidely thinking that we are wrong and maybe even condemning us.

I have a lot of experience with this because I’m sort of quasi-Amish. I wear loooong skirts. I cover my head. I have babies every 22 months (at least so far). I have homebirths. I breastfeed. I homeschool. I’m part of a tiny little house church. When people talk about a television show, if it was aired after the turn of the new millennium, I’m usually clueless. It’s been years since I was at a movie theater. I don’t listen to the radio. I’ve never followed secular music much. You know, isolated and strange.

But there are a lot of people in my life who aren’t doing all of these things, or any of these things.

And so I ask myself, how do people with an unusual set of convictions and life practices interact with the rest of the world, the “normal,” less freakish people out there, without adding that element of supposed condemnation that makes everyone feel so uncomfortable?

Since my convictions are so unusual, I can’t seem to talk about them without making a lot of people around me feel condemned just by nature of the fact that they have different convictions. And I can’t honestly say my convictions are just “personal” convictions, as in “I feel called not to eat oatmeal, but I don’t mind if y’all eat boatloads of the stuff–it’s just a personal conviction,” because I never felt like God revealed anything to me as a special call just on my life.  If I believe something it’s because I actually believe it. I don’t dress modestly because I think it’s something I need to do, but never mind, dear, God doesn’t care how you dress. I don’t avoid the majority of broadcast media because I think it’s a pointless, raunchy, morally desensitizing waste of time for me, but quite possibly good and wholesome for everyone else. No, I do these things (and most things) because I believe them to be true in the abstract, and then I apply them to myself. Stellar. I’m well set up to be a first class trumpeter of judgment and condemnation to nearly anyone on the planet. Because, you know, with my long list of all the ways I’m isolated and strange, it’s pretty easy for just about everybody to find a sticking point, some area of disagreement, some thing that I really believe in that they just don’t.

What to do? What to do?

Some people get around the issue by surrounding themselves with people that all think the same thing, join an oppressive group which dictates all convictions so they can be conservative without controversy, park their brains at the door, and do their condemning together as a cozy group. But then, who’s going to help them see where they’re wrong? It would be impossible for any of us to get it completely right. We need other people who see the world differently to challenge us and help us think through all those beliefs of ours to make sure we don’t decide oatmeal is the anti-Christ or something.

A better plan is to really believe what we believe, share it freely, and then lovingly give each other space to follow God as best we know how. We are not the ones other people have to please. They only need to please God, and He will reveal the things He wants each of us to know in His own timing.

Let’s genuinely love people even if they dress modestly (or don’t), or use birth control (or don’t), or send their kids to public school (or don’t), or even if they eat oatmeal (or don’t). People are still bound to get uncomfortable from time to time, but persevering in respecting them, valuing them, learning from them, and loving them seems to me to be a much better solution than either pretending we don’t believe anything, or limiting ourselves to people who already agree with us.