Confession

I have a confession.   It comes on the heels of #FemFest, a huge link-up of bloggers last week who devoted three days to different topics concerning feminism today.  It was beautiful.  And sad.  I was desperately so because I had too much to get done and I could not participate.  This link-up screamed my name – quite literally in my sleep.  I composed posts in the shower, on my drive, and even, if I am honest, while watching some of my online lectures.  Which, when I realized that I had been writing in my head instead of listening, I had to then rewind to where I’d tuned out and discipline myself to focus; because papers, tests, and graded discussions don’t care about blogger link-ups.  It’s not that the lectures weren’t engaging – they were.  It’s not that the topics covered therein aren’t important – they are.  It’s simply that a discussion on the silencing of women, particularly in the church, is a dialogue I’ve longed for ever since I was shown that this conversation isn’t sinful.  And last week, as this dialogue was actually happening, my circumstances forced me to miss it. 

Yet, as became move apparent through my week, there was another reason for my inability to participate.  I needed bigger eyes on the subject.  And a more humble heart.

You see, I am very attentive to the outward signs of androcentric organization in the American Evangelical movement.  My antennae are hyper-aware as I walk into a church or small group or para-church; I note that only men wear the tags marked, “Lead,” around their necks in the mega-church we have been frequenting of late.  I see that their leadership consists of both sexes, but women don’t teach anyone other than themselves or children; they worship, they administer, they facilitate, they are not visible when Christ is preached.  I hear the “man” read aloud when “humanity” might be equally appropriate.  I shake my head when the women are encouraged to be particularly attentive to stories of women in the bible and to model themselves after the characters of men therein,; but the books of Ruth or Ester or the story of Sarah or a Samarian woman at Jacob’s well are not generalized to the men.  There is no talk about the fact that the privilege of first resurrection annunciation was given to a woman, or that Timothy’s mother and grandmother taught him the faith well enough that he was able to be Paul’s apprentice.   Every place I go, I keep a mental tally sheet of all the ways that it is obvious that the men are in charge, and the women are left out.    

I build walls against this – I tuck into myself, recognizing the hurt that these practices cause,

the segregated, left-out-ness that is so very much

the female experience of church.

And yet, I have to recognize that while my experience cannot invalidate that of a community of fellow bloggers, I cannot allow the community’s experience to shape mine.  I am a female graduate student enrolled in a Masters of Divinity program at a well-respected seminary.  No one there has ever told me I could not do something simply because of my sex.  My husband is very supportive of my career thus, and is the main encourager for my studies; in truth, had he not suggested it, I likely would not have even considered it.  I attend a bible study that is hosted effortlessly by a wife and husband duo who teach, pray, and encourage those under them to do the same, regardless of gender.  Theirs is the picture of equality and mutuality in Christ.

Yes, I have been told that for a woman to call herself a “pastor” or “elder” is a sin.  Yes, I have been told that women have no authority to teach men.  Yes, I have been told that to pursue theological education, as a woman, is an abject abandonment of my role as wife and mother and is thus a direct affront to God’s design.  I have experienced all this and can thus understand and relate to my sisters and brothers who form this community crying aloud for the minimization of women to stop.

{confession}

But I have to be aware.  I sat in theology class last week, pondering the topic of women in the church.  And I noted that of the eleven people seated on the front row, eight were men.  As I compared this ratio to the exact opposite of the second row (eight women, three men), I was literally stopped mid-thought.  For, as I was lamenting the apparent domination of males in this field, I had to be honest with myself:

I sat on the second row.

I, and no one else, chose my seat.  I swallow my questions when gender roles and ontology and discussed.  I stay silent when the same scriptures are used over and again to keep women out of full inclusion in the body of Christ.  And I do so because I am afraid.  Afraid that I won’t communicate my position well; that by my ill-formed or poorly articulated argument, the opposing side will be strengthened.  And I will have set us back instead of helping to press forward. 

So first, I must confess that I harbor a prejudice against my brethren.  I assume that for the most part, they are willful mechanisms in the problem.  I do not allow them a chance to speak for themselves.  I pass judgment, without their input, the plank protruding from my own eye.

Thus, I resolve, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to see my brothers in Christ as benevolent men who desire to build up the entire kingdom of God for His glory.  I will allow the actions and words of each individual believer to speak the truth of his/her heart.

Secondly, I confess my fear of failure.  And that this fear is indicative of a lack of trust in God.  My fear has its root in my performance or articulation and not in the work of the Spirit in the hearts of my fellow believers.

Therefore I will push outside of my safety bubble – I will speak up when I disagree with what is being taught.  Not out of obstinate hardheartedness, but mindful of the unity that is to mark the body of Christ-followers; seeking to understand the scriptures more fully, and to honor Christ first and foremost in my interactions with my fellow children of God.  And I will trust that the Spirit of God is responsible for changing the heart of any believer should he/she be so willing.

 

For the glory of God the Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit. 

Amen. 

     

7 tips from 13 years of married life

Yesterday was my 13^th wedding anniversary.  Because the Officer had to work, we’re celebrating today.  The man I met at new student orientation for the University of New Mexico [and then again on frat row, which is another story entirely] is now treating me to an overnight escape at a swanky hotel in downtown Denver and a VIP showing of the DAM’s “Becoming Van Gogh” exhibit.  Art isn’t exactly his thing, nor is sleeping in a bed that is a mere thirty minutes from his, but he’ll do just about anything to make me smile.  He’s a keeper. 

And yes, “escape” is just the right word for our celebration.  I’ll be quite honest, dear reader, this year was hard.  Phenomenally, unexpectedly, lingeringly hard.  And no, neither of us has come out of it unscathed.  There were internal struggles, but mostly there were external forces at work that tested the very fabric of our marriage.  But God…broke through everything we were going through and helped us focus on what really mattered: Him first [always] and each other.  The rest of it, well, it’s going to burn away, to wither and rot.  My prayer, as we put this year behind us, is that our marriage will be a testament of God’s grace in a world full of fallen people who are just like us and need nothing but to be loved.  
    
There were those who knew us way back when who wagered among themselves as to whether or not we’d last six months.  Apparently, most of our close friends and even some family felt that our union was the Seabiscuit of marriages.  I’d smirk now, except that I can take none of the credit.  I have often said that on that crisp night under the desert stars, I made a covenant with a God I didn’t know, to love in a way that I couldn’t understand a man I had, really, only just met.  Thirteen years, three states, and two children later, we are still learning what it means to honor that covenant.  What has amazed me most is that God has held me to my word, even as He held up His end of the deal; in spite of the fact that I was just a starry-eyed girl swathed in white, giddy with the prospect of being in swooning-love for the rest of forever, and who had no idea what that commitment would require of her.

 

[And here’s where I get to sound like an old, married lady:] Because today I can say without hesitation that marriage takes work.  That swooning-breathless love is possible to keep, but it requires lots and lots and lots of arduous effort to maintain; or to recover, if ever it becomes lost.  While we’re still figuring this whole two-people-becoming-one thing,  I have found the following seven points to be the ones to which we return time and again:

1.        Share each other’s interests: The boy [for really, at that point we were hardly grown-up] who took swimming and Hitchcockian film classes just to be with me is the same Officer who enjoys our Christmas tradition of the Nutcracker ballet and surprises me with art museum tours for date night.  He’s the one for whom I actually read the sports section during football season, so I might be able engage in a decent conversation about the Broncos [until Elway shirked on his word to let Tebow start and put the-reason-we’ll-be-looking-for-a-new-quarterback-in-two-years-at-best on the roster, but I digress...].  And he’s the reason I am going for a concealed carry permit; and the only person with whom I enjoy pumping iron, or summiting 14ners after tenting in the woods, or watching movies that involve centurions or Spartans or Black Hawks.  And he is absolutely the only man with whom I grapple…unless I’m attacked by a scary man in some dark alley, at which point I’ll be glad of his training me thus.  Remember that you did things that were outside of your comfort zone before you married, and you probably enjoyed them for the simple reason that you did them with your then-future spouse.  Why should that stop after the vows have been said?       

2.        Figure out each other’s weaknesses and fill in the gaps with your strengths: The Officer’s the one I call when I’m scared.  He’s talked me down from pulling our kids out of school or shadowing their every breath, he’s the level head for medical emergencies [though his deft and expert maneuvering of the car at speeds exceeding legal parameters belie his quiet concern], and the one I wake when I can’t move but know that we have to pray in the darkest watches of the night.  He is patient when I’m all out; he keeps going when I want to quit.  He can schedule the heck out of a week-long hiking trip.  And I’m the one who buys random pets [ferrets, puppies, chinchillas, and chicks], moves furniture around monthly because I can’t stand monotony, and hosts mud-pit carnivals in our backyard.  I’m also the one who edits those 20 page term papers while he teaches the 9 year old math.  He carries all the water and lets me hold little hands, pick flowers, and turn over rocks.  He takes the pictures and lets me post them on Facebook.  Face life as a team; cover each other’s blind spots and back one another up.  It will bring you closer if you can appreciate the uniqueness in your spouse and live out of yours as well. 

3.        Care for each other: The Officer’s the one who babies me:  when I’m sick, when I’m tired, when I’m both.  I’m the one who, though not great at nurturing, will cajole him into taking a nap when he can’t keep his eyes open.  When he was in school [and I wasn’t], I’d bring him snacks to help him make it through his lessons.  When I was in school [and he was, too], he’d handle dinner and the kids so that I could make it through my papers.  Sometimes he does the dishes; sometimes I take out the trash.  It’s a phone call to see if he needs anything from the store, or if I need him to start dinner.  It is simply finding little ways to show one another that s/he, and his/her time, is important to you.       

4.       Talk, talk, talk, talk.  And then talk some more: Tell each other your dreams, no matter how wild they are.  If you want to live in Paris for a year, talk about it.  Pull out maps of the city, pick places you’d live or work or eat.  Share your ideas; if you want to redecorate, show your spouse pictures; conversely, if your spouse wants to redecorate, look at his/her pictures.  If you want to write a book, start a blog, paint, teach, rebuild a car…tell your spouse.  And if your spouse wants to do those things, read their manuscript [without criticism], follow their blog, buy them a canvas, go to junk yards, or encourage them to enroll in classes.  Be his/her biggest cheerleader.  And watch as s/he believes you and begins to live out what you already knew was true about them.  Talk about what you’re learning, what you want to learn, what your day was like, what you remember about the past, what you hope for in the future.  Share who you are; learn who they are.  Communicate.  And then get up the next day and do it again.  This is absolutely vital to every marriage. 

5.        Fight.  But don’t go to bed angry: Not a single one of us is perfect.  We are going to disagree; we’re going to have times when we don’t like the other person very much.  And when two fallen people are making their way to becoming one, there are going to be fights along the way.  That doesn’t mean you throw in the towel and cut your losses; it means that you remember the promise you made, you do your very best to see your spouse through loving eyes, and be ready to sacrifice parts of your sinful and selfish self for the greater good of US.  Don’t stuff your feelings, but don’t be ruled by them either.  Do respectfully tell your spouse what hurts you; and listen to him/her as s/he tells you what hurts him/her.  But know that these problems aren’t going to be solved in a 22 minute session, complete with commercial breaks, and that the last thing on our minds before we sleep is what sticks for the day.  If it’s angry words and tearful stone-walling, then that’s what tomorrow will feel like.  If it’s apologies and finding common ground, then that’s what tomorrow will be colored with as well.  And if you see the dawn before you come to a resolution, ask yourself, is my marriage worth the lost sleep?  Is the person across from me valuable enough to sacrifice my comfort for?  And know that the answer is always, “yes.”       

6.       Get naked together.  A lot.  Yep, I purposefully followed fighting with sex, because that’s how it should work in marriage, too. Touch is one of the most powerful tools for building, or restoring, any relationship; the marriage relationship is no different.  The spectacular thing about marriage is that because it is the closest relationship, couples have been given the most beautiful, mind-blowing expression of tender intimacy.  I won’t be graphic here [my Mom reads this blog], but neither will I pretend that God didn’t intend sex for the edification and enjoyment of two married people as they express their love for one another.  Read Song of Solomon [together, ideally] and remember that God created your spouse with you in mind.  And this is the one person with whom you can be completely open and, honestly, enjoy in a way that no other person ever can.  And you can be enjoyed in such a way by your spouse as well.  Don’t ever look to outside sources for the definition of beauty; find it in your spouse.  Don’t let the world tell you what you should or shouldn’t be doing, how you should or shouldn’t be doing it, or when or where you should.  Do what you both enjoy.  And do it often.  Seriously.  Remember that I-can’t-not-touch-this-person feeling; and if you have to, hire a sitter and book a hotel room, and spend some serious time reminding one another why sex is so intoxicatingly amazing.            

7.        Be Grace-full:  The Officer is a remarkable, heroic, can’t-believe-I-get-to-be-married-to-him guy, but he still leaves his clothes beside the bed most mornings.  And I would rather do anything than fold laundry, or put it away.  Anything.  Thus he is guaranteed a mountain of clean laundry stashed somewhere in our home at any given time.  I’m sure there are a million little things that we do that have the potential to drive the other person out of their mind.  This is what happens when two lives are smashed together and are meant to blend into one.  I’m an interrupter; it’s chronic.  And yes, I know how irritating and flat out rude it is.  I hate that I do it, maybe even more than the Officer hates being interrupted.  Maybe.  But when I do, he practices grace with me.  He doesn’t lecture, he doesn’t glare; he simply waits because he knows that this tendency in me is one that requires his grace.  He can give me this grace because he fills himself upon the Grace that is freely given through the Love and Word of God; so that when the Officer is with me, he can overflow this into our marriage.  And every marriage, every life, is always in need of more grace.  Thus we encourage one another to be in God’s Word daily, we ask how the other is doing spiritually, and we pray together.  Not every day, because we’re not perfect.  But we do pray for one another daily, and seek to pray together as often as we can.  I have to encourage you to do the same; even if it’s awkward or embarrassing at first, it’s worth it.  Far more than I have time to explain here.  But always remember that you have to get Grace before you can give it; and of anyone on the planet, your spouse needs your grace most of all.           

Now, I’m not going to insult you, dear reader, by pretending that there aren’t hurts and struggles that are so much bigger than this pithy list can conquer.  And I won’t ever insinuate that by doing more or just trying harder you can, all by yourself, mend what’s wrong in a marriage.  Because marriage is two sinners trying to get their poop in a group and live life together; it requires two willing parties.  This is merely a few things I’ve found important in my own marriage; and believe me, mine has not been without struggles or dark times.  But I will tell you that in spite of the dark times, and maybe even because of them, my marriage is stronger today than it was thirteen years ago.  Or even six months ago.  Marriage is a work in progress, an organic and fluid endeavor by two sinful souls making their way through a fallen world.  But because it can be the most glorious and brightest relationship outside of one with Jesus, it is worth every ounce of effort and attention you can afford. 

May you be blessed in your marriage, may you have happiness and lasting joy, and may your marriage outlast even your own expectations!    

 

 

Snowflakes and Poems: Who We Are

Declaration 7 [part I]:  The new creation that I am will inhabit her identity.  She will not long for the adventure or husks of others.  She will give others the freedom to do the same: to be whom they were created to be. 

For the Designer is the Greatest Poet, and we are His poetry.

For a very long time, I thought [and was taught] that there is only one way to be a good Christian woman.  I have seen numerous leaders, both national and within the context of my local worship, strive to put forth this ideal.  I have read countless authors, of books and blogs, who aim to provide practical ways to fit our sloppy selves into this mold.   Why?  Because we have this model seemingly preserved for us in Scripture.  She allegedly lurks at the end of Proverbs…or at least, that’s what we’ve been told.  But I am learning that this cookie-cutter image of Christian woman perfection isn’t what we’ve made it.  Lady Wisdom [Sophia, aka: Proverbs 31 woman] is not the sole standard for good Christian girls, nor one for which we should blindly strive.  Instead, she is an inclusion of the feminine in a time when women in cultures outside the nation of Israel were chattel.  God put females in His Word, and thus made their value, their worth to Him, important.  Worth writing down, and preserving for all generations.  So that they might not be ignored or demeaned or seen as less.  Thus, we should not assign to Lady Wisdom a role for which she was not intended: the only way to be an ideal-Christian-woman.    

I’ll confess: I am not a Women’s Ministry kind of gal, for a variety of reasons.  But it was only within the past two years, that I figured out (after two dear and wise mentors told me thus) this is okay.  I hate shopping.  Bores me to tears; except for once or twice a year when the mood strikes.  I’ll take a pedicure, but more often than not my toes are an embarrassment to ideal femininity.  I’d rather hike, snowshoe, ski, camp, dive under the water and get my hair wet than stay prettily coiffed and made-up.  I could spend all day trolling youtube for poets, listening to their lyricism not with my ears, but with the cavity their words carve into my chest.  But I could skip math altogether.  I love to read, would give up days upon days to linger in books; I love the cinema so much that I strove for a year to learn its craft and make it my own.  I write; but you already knew that.  And yes, I'm more than just a little bit of a nerd [to whit, I will now impress you with photos of my homemade Christmas decoration from last year].  

 Get the template here

I could go on and on about who I am; but that is not the purpose.  I don’t need to explore what makes me, me.  I need to be me.  I need to live out loud the poem that God created me to be—not a rerun of one He has already penned.        

God, the Creator of all things, isn’t a one-hit-wonder.  We each are different.  Oh thank God that we are!  And we were created to be thus.  God isn’t a maker of replicates.  He has not been interested in repeating the same creation over and over again since He spoke the myriad of galaxies into existence.  He designs purposefully, with precise intent.  He put you and I right here, for right now.  Not so that we may replay Christian victories of the past, or mimic ages long since gone.  But so that we may be us, in this time, to the glory and delight of our King.    

 And this one here

Consider snowflakes.  Out of the billions that fall from the sky each year, not one—not a solitary one—is identical to another.  If God can take such care in creating a tiny ice sculpture that will melt with the heat of the sun, how much more does He delight in making every person unique from any other?   Each one of us, since time began, is one of His poems.  And as such, not a single one of us is exactly like another.  As the poetry metaphor goes, there are those who are Emerson-esque, or Barrett-Browning, or Coelho, or Bennett, or Shakespeare, or even Cummings.  Some are wild and full of thunderous energy.  Others flow with melody and tenderness.  Still others stumble over the necessity to be known and understood.  And others, stoic and still, can only be appreciated when patiently mined for meaning deep within, by unrelenting love.          

 Finally, this one here

Rejoice in the fact that you are you, and no one else.  That you have your life, not that of another.  In this time, in no other period but this.  You are not called to be anyone other than who you are.  Yes, we are each called into greater Christ-likeness; but that is a Christ-likeness that can only be reflected in you.  You, without whom the world and time would be incomplete.  You, whom God delighted in planning before even the foundations of the world was formed.  You, whom God knows so well that He numbers the hairs on your head and knows what words will spill off your tongue before you speak them.  You, not any other person, alive or dead.  You.    

Though this post appears, at surface, to be aimed only at women, it also has application for Christian men.  We mustn’t assume that there aren’t ideals for men to strive to attain.  What about the chest-thumping leader who is gentle enough to weep at the sight of a newborn while courageous enough to run head-long into fire or war to save those under his care; a man who rises every morning with certainty of what he was called to do, and who tireless provides for his family, even to the detriment of his own well-being.  A man who devoutly captains family devotions as master theologian and prays over his family, out loud and daily, with the finesse of an evangelist.  Lion-slayer, foot-washer, witty apologist, and gentle psalmist, who flays his shield at the onset of danger and every moment of every day delights in the bride of his youth as flowery words pour from his lips lauding her place in his life.  Certainly even this hyperbolic ideal, a case for which could be made using scripture, is not what all men everywhere were designed to be.  And it is a mold into which mortal men will not fit.    

Within the twelve who walked with Jesus, and the women we find attending Him, we are privy to glimpses of separate personalities.  Jesus didn’t laude one over another.  So why do we?

Again, I urge you, be the you God created you to be.  For the glory of His Kingdom, and the delight of His heart.    

*For a practical exercise, check out the fourth paragraph of this article.

A Pharisee and an Outcast

Because all scripture should be read within context, no one verse or passage to be lifted from the place where its author set it,  today we’re going to look at John 4:1-42 as it relates to John 3, where Jesus encounters a Pharisee named Nicodemus.  So, crack John 3 [and if you’re feeling particularly ambitious, reread John 4 for good measure] and read it.  Don’t worry, I’ll wait…     

Nicodeums Visiting Jesus by Henry Ossawa Tanner - found at oceansbridge.com

Now, as we’ve mentioned [repeatedly] before, in chapter 4 we find that Jesus has gone out of his way, literally, to meet this particular woman at this particular well.  But this point becomes crystalline when considering it in such close proximity to that of Nicodemus the Pharisee visiting Jesus.  In the Nicodemus discourse, it is the Pharisee who seeks out Jesus; yet for the Samaritan woman it is the other way around.  Another striking difference between these two accounts is the time at which they happen.  John notes that Nicodemus came to Jesus at night, while Jesus’ meeting with the Samaritan woman occurs at noon. 

Again, we’ve established that some scholars deem this an unlikely time for drawing water, and make further claims about the woman’s character based on this fact [including that she has no friends or is not welcome by the other women, which is why she draws her water at noon, alone].[1]  However, as much as this anthropologic information supports the typography of this woman as an outcast, literarily, John is employing one of his preferred tactics, the expression of duality, to further highlight the differences between these two encounters: Nicodemus seeks out Jesus in the dark, while Jesus approaches this woman in the light of day.  Thus the insertion of time and location, which are characteristic of John’s gospel, serve to draw the readers’ attention to the polarization of these narratives.  And because the woman’s exchange with Jesus occurs in the light, John paints her as the better example of faith, understanding, and evangelism.

Within the Nicodemus conversation it is the Pharisee who begins the dialogue, as the honor of speaking first is generally afforded to the most socially superior individual.[2]  Even though Nicodemus identifies Jesus as “a teacher who has come from God,” Jesus immediately commandeers the exchange by ignoring Nicodemus’ question; Jesus offers instead a statement that is completely off the subject that Nicodemus has introduced.  In the remainder of their conversation, Nicodemus is left only with questions and Jesus guides the discussion in an increasingly harsh manner through to its cessation.  In the Samaritan discourse, Jesus is the initiator of contact, which does indicate his superior position; however this contact is highly unusual and counter-cultural.  In fact, when the disciples return from procuring food, they are surprised to find him engaged in a conversation with this woman, yet, as Keener suggests, they know Jesus well enough not to question him out loud.[3]      

While Nicodemus initially appeared to have a superior position in his conversation with Christ, “Jesus approached the relationship with the Samaritan woman with all the cards on his side: he was male, he was Jewish, he was a Rabbi.  He came with knowledge, a certain amount of affluence, friends, and the privilege afforded to him as a result of being part of the dominant culture.”[4]  And yet, he brooked interaction with this woman, who by Jewish pietists’ definition would have been considered perpetually unclean from birth due to her Samaritan roots.[5]  And he humbled himself before her, empowering her in their exchange, asking for her help in quenching his thirst.[6]  This humility was so out of the ordinary, the woman comments on it in verse nine, asking how a Jewish man could be requesting a drink from her, a Samaritan woman.[7] It is worth noting that Jesus furthers his expression of humility in showing his willingness to be made unclean by this woman, for as she notes, he has “nothing to draw with,” meaning he would have to use her utensils (4:11). In response to her seeming refusal, Jesus offers a further supplication: the gift of living water.  

During their conversation, each of Jesus’ answers to her questions show that unlike his exchange with Nicodemus, a Pharisee who was considered to be one who should understand the things about which Jesus spoke, Christ will treat the Samaritan woman as one who does not yet understand.  She is a perennial outsider, even without a corrupt morality.  At no point does Jesus verbally distance himself from her with increasingly cryptic responses, as he had with Nicodemus; instead, he offers greater amounts of information, without ignoring her questions or impugning her intelligence, though he does allow her to duck to issue of her marital state.  Thus when she states her faith that he is a prophet and later that from the Jews the Messiah is coming and will show the Samaritans all things, Jesus offers her the clearest, most efficient personal Christology yet: “egw eimi,” I am he (4:26).

This statement secures her faith and she immediately acts upon it; she leaves her bucket where it is and departs to call her fellow Samaritans to this man whom she believes is the Messiah.  Yet, Nicodemus, a man who was supposed to be constantly villagent for the consummation of God’s promise, is even rebuked by Jesus for his lack of belief (3:12).  Thus a foreign woman, the last person any Israelite would have expected, heralded the Messiah’s coming.  She called her people to Christ, believing with all that she was that Jesus was the Promised One.  While the Pharisee, a man whom Jesus identifies as “Israel’s teacher” (3:10), had only questions and unbelief.  Thus, when we look at these two passages together, we see Jesus lifting a woman to a place of greater use in his kingdom; for she was ministered to and used by Jesus to announce the reality of his kingdom on earth, in a way that the Pharisee Nicodemus could not, because he could not believe.

And these two scenarios pivot on belief.  One, who should have known better, did not believe.  The other, who was fairly clueless, believed.  And tucked so neatly between these two accounts, not just once, but twice, is the theme of both:

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.   Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son. (John 3:16-18)

-- And --

The one who comes from heaven is above all.  He testifies to what he has seen and heard, but no one accepts his testimony.  Whoever has accepted it has certified that God is truthful.   For the one whom God has sent speaks the words of God, for God gives the Spirit without limit. The Father loves the Son and has placed everything in his hands.   Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains on them. (John 3:31b-36)

Thus, the Pharisee isn’t bad because he’s a Pharisee, nor because he’s male.  And the Samaritan woman isn’t good because she’s a woman, or a Gentile, or a sinner.  It is merely because he did not believe.  And she did.

Belief in Jesus Christ is the pivotal catalyst for eternal life. 

Without it, we are dead. 

  Enjoying this study?  Here's a link to other articles in this series: The Women Who Knew Jesus

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[1]Craig S. Keener, “One New Temple in Christ (Ephesians 2:11-22; Acts 21:27-29; Mark 11:17; John 4:20-24),” Asian Journal of Pentecostal Studies 12 (2009): 82.

[2] Craig Blomberg, “Literary Criticism, Introduction to Mark and Matthew,” Lecture, Gospels and Acts class, Denver Seminary, Denver, CO, September 27, 2011.

[3] Keener, “One New Temple,” 82.

[4]Brenda Salter McNeil, “A More Excellent Way: Race and Gender Reconciliation Through Christ,” Priscilla Papers, 14, (2000):  1-5.

[5] Keener, “One New Temple,” 82.

[6] McNeil, “A More Excellent Way.”

[7] Leonard Swidler, “Jesus in His Encounter with Women,” AFER, 13, (1971):  297-298.