Christian by Association

Several months ago I wrote a post about why I would not make a good feminist. For the most part, I was trying to be funny, some got it, others did not. Some were empowered and encouraged, others were offended and enraged. As they say, you can't please everyone, and I agree. It's not pleasing people that I'm striving for, a few displeased people are bound to come with the territory, certainly. But, as the months went by and I really began to reflect on that post, my heart in writing it, and the response that it got, an uneasiness began to settle in. 

I hate stereotypes. Across the board. So when the primary concern that was being voiced against my post was that I was addressing a very stereotypical version of feminism (and I was) it bothered me. I knew in writing it that I was taking feminism to an extreme, and yes perhaps an extreme that still exists, but an extreme nonetheless. And the thing is, I hate extremes.

I don't work well with them. Never are they representative of the majority, so they're really a moot point in an argument. I know this, I argue it all the time, and yet for the sake of humor (and a few serious points) I didn't think twice about utilizing an extreme example in order to better make my point and, yes, ruffle a few feathers along the way. I do like to ruffle feathers. But, not simply for the sake of ruffled feathers. Y'know?

I mean, unless they result in the feathers being smoothed back down in a more Christ-like way, and recognizing that the pre-ruffled state of those feathers wasn't what it should've been, and the entire ruffling process is viewed as good and necessary and worthwhile by all parties, then the whole thing is pointless, and the Ruffl-er is just being a jerk to the Ruffl-ee. With me?

I don't want to be a jerk. So you can imagine how I felt when I began to hear this soft whisper from the Spirit saying, "Nikki, the jerk store called, and it's running out of you!" No, not really, God didn't call me a jerk, or quote George Costanza, but he certainly brought everything into perspective just enough for me to see that I was being one. And then, he began to reveal the nastiness of my own heart. And believe me, it was nasty.

I don't want to be that person that writes and speaks and reads and does and lives, all for effect. I don't want to be a reaction-driven person in any aspect of my life. Will I get 2,000 people to read my blog if I post something controversial, yep I sure will, but will any of those 2,000 people come away from that read feeling encouraged, uplifted, or purposefully challenged? I know some did, and I will say that is absolutely the result of a very big God.

I love a very big God. Which is good, because we've got one. Believe it or not, He's up there, on his big throne with his big voice and his big hair and his big shoes and he probably even has a big dog that sits on his big lap and gets petted with his big hand. Maybe. And the great thing about this big God is that he also has a big Spirit. And when something is this big, infinitely big, it can make itself very small. Small enough to fit inside a finite being such as me, and you. 

I love you. The readers of this blog, the friends and family and acquaintances that come back faithfully and encourage me, rebuke me, challenge me, and pat me on the back, you are precious to me. Which is why I do take this platform very seriously. I don't want to lead you astray, or to put things into your head and heart that are not totally of God, but I will, and I have, and I'm sorry. It's going to happen. Because at the end of the day I am just a work in progress. There are countless posts on this blog that I have written and now completely disagree with. I could delete them, but that devalues the process that I've come through, and, assumes the Spirit is not big enough to work around my errors. But he is, and he does.

My goal today isn't to re-spark a debate on what feminism is and what it isn't. Let me say that I have come to see that there are a great many levels of feminism, from the extreme of man hating and hairy armpits, to the other end of the spectrum, where I am. That's right, I am a feminist. Granted, a feminist that embraces patriarchy and believes that life begins at conception, but also one that sees women esteemed throughout Scripture, and who believes in theological scholarship no matter your gender, and who believes that a woman's voice should be heard, through writing or speaking or voting or protesting or marching around town in their bras, and who feels that Jesus appearing to women first on that Resurrection morning, was no small thing.

I love women. I cherish the women God has placed in my life, and to think for a second that there are others out there that may have been discouraged by my words truly breaks my heart. And yes the Spirit is bigger, and yes God is sovereign, but it was still I who used those words so carelessly. Above all else, what I hope to achieve in this post and every other one that I write, is simply to challenge you to seek God. Seek truth. Get into the scriptures and see what they say to you. Hold your life up against those words and determine where the two are in sync, and where there may be discrepancies. Then, the fun part, work it out.