Posted on Tuesday, November 15, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian

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Posted on Monday, November 14, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
This review is a little different for me. I’m torn. I’m frustrated. I’m wondering how in the world things will progress for evangelical women. Or maybe I should say Xvangelicals.
I picked up Glennon Doyle Melton’s memoir, Love Warrior, from my library because I wanted to learn about other women. Some of them are my friends. I first saw excitement for Melton’s latest book announced by non-Christian friends on social media. I read the pitch for the book, about how Melton fought through bulimia and alcoholism to embrace motherhood, only to discover later in life that she would face the toughest rock bottom News of all---her husband was a serial adulterer. To cope with the unbearable agony, she wrote. She wrote and she wrote, and now she is sharing her story with all women because it is about self-discovery, love, mind, body, and soul. It’s about being a warrior. I knew the book would be a bestseller. 
But then Melton’s name popped up as a speaker in the latest Belong Tour, accompanied by other familiar names such as Jen Hatmaker, Shauna Niequist, and Nichole Nordeman. Wait. Glennon Doyle is speaking with this crowd? I didn’t know that she even identified as a Christian. I did know that her book was now part of Oprah’s book club. Now I want to learn more about the women packing arenas to follow the New Christian Women.
But I’ll be honest. I also began reading Love Warrior with a high dose of, “here we go again…” I was incredibly skeptical. To my surprise, I didn’t have to force myself to finish Melton’s book. It has substance. She nails the “hidden rules” of society that girls pick up on at a very young age. Her depiction of body image, performance as life, pain, premarital sex, addiction, fear, and helplessness is gritty and enlightening. Her encounters with both the Roman Catholic and conservative evangelical churches live up to our worst stereotypes. Melton is a brilliant observer. She’s a good writer. Her insights are engaging. And she’s terribly honest. Terribly. I don’t know if I’m using that word in a positive or negative way. There were times where I felt like Melton really over shared, and I wondered about her family, her friends, and her kids. Was this fair to them? But I kept reading. Her story lives up to page-turner status.
Of course women love her. Melton tears away all the masks. She shares dirt about herself that makes the tabloids seem boring. We can compare ourselves to her and think we aren’t so bad after all. And we are rooting for her. As Melton shares her unedited inner thoughts, we recognize them as our own---except, this woman with a really messed up history sounds a lot smarter than us. Her brutal self-examination calls us out as well. 
Melton isn’t the Christian author who makes you feel like you’re sitting across a table having a cup of coffee with her as you read. No. There’s nothing fluffy about her. And she’s no small talker. I like her. I’m embarrassed to admit this to myself, because Oprah.
But where is she going?
I wonder, as I’m reading this gritty book, how does she end up as a speaker in a Belong conference? There must be some sort of conversion story at the end of it all. 
There is. All of the sudden, I feel like I’m no longer reading Glennon Melton’s book, but rather a female version of Rob Bell. The book moves from substance to propaganda. Her gospel is universalism, mysticism, and social justice. Her conversion moment, her “unbecoming” or her “reunion,” is through an out-of-body experience during a class she took on breathing. And the careful framing of her words set up a protection against anyone who might want to mention the word sin, justification, or righteousness. She does use words like holiness, but not to describe God. Holiness is one’s own presence in sharing the truth of a moment. She describes grace, and on one hand I want to say, Yes! Yes, that’s it! Grace is more than we could have dreamed! She even understands that grace offered comes with great sacrifice, that “the price of love is high indeed.” But her message is that we are all forgiven already, all “totally, completely safe. The end of whatever road we choose will be redemption---love will win either way” (221).
I’m left wondering how to review this book.
I’m torn because while there are so many thoughtful, penetrating conversations we can have about this book, it ends with a church, and claims about God, his Word, man, and the gospel. Actually, there is very little of his Word (whittled down to one word in it) and no mention of Jesus. The book also ends with a strange renewal of her wedding vows. After both of them have fought to become the person's whom they've always wanted to be, they promise to stay together “today.” Wisdom may lead them in a different direction later, “and that is okay.” Earlier in the book, I would have understood that wisdom, as there was unfaithfulness and betrayal. But at this point, they have worked hard to not only restore their love, but also rather seem to have built it for the first time. And yet as real as she tries to make this higher love, in the end it has no covenant at all. The message that leads her back to her husband, to listen to her body, may in fact lead her away from him. 
I think of J. D. Vance’s recent memoir that is also gritty and also peppers in some critique of the Christian church. But he speaks as a seeker, not with a gospel ending. 
I looked Love Warrior up on Amazon, and it is not under any Christian genre headings. Melton’s topping the bestseller charts in sociology, relationships, and self-help. I do see that sells a book she co-wrote on the misuse of the Bible on homosexuality. So what do we do with the fact that she joined the Belong tour, which is described as “the successor, or reboot, of ‘Women of Faith’”? How do you review a secular book that ends with the author’s gospel message, which she is now sharing at so-called Christian conferences that pack way more seats than I could ever fathom?
I Interrupt this Review to Make an Announcement:
So as I’m writing this, it has been brought to my attention that Glennon Melton has just announced on Facebook that she has a new lover, a woman. In it, she adds:
Remember in Love Warrior how hard I struggled to understand what being in love meant?
I get it now.
I get it.
I am in love.
And I’m really, deeply happy
Today? For now?
Back to My Review
I’m no longer torn. I’m sad that women who are lost are leading many with them. I’m sad that orthodoxy has become offensive to Christians. I’m sad that there are many in the church who aren’t getting good teaching on Imago Dei. I’m sad that women are looking outside of the church to be discipled because they are starving for theological answers. I’m sad that we are being marketed to with such bad theology. I’m sad that these events and books are so popular because they are capitalizing on the church’s blind spots about humanity and the value of women in the household of God. I’m sad that unbelievers see this bad witness of the church and think that Oprah’s book club has a better gospel to offer. I’m sad that many in the conservative church draw the orthodox line in critiquing speakers and authors on homosexuality, and not way before that, on first order doctrines.
I like the word warrior. And I will continue to be that for the truth, because it is good and beautiful and holy and full of grace---grace even for sexual sin, grace even for unorthodoxy. But we have to repent. We have to turn away. We have to turn to the only One who loves us rightly, Jesus Christ. We need not be ashamed of who he is. Because grace really is costly, and he paid it all. I won’t settle for less. And because of this, we don’t have to pretend. We can be present. We can be real. We are the only ones who can!
And One More Thing
I can’t end this without a mention of the elephant that has been in the book the whole time I read it. And that is in the contradictions. As I read Melton preaching her message of true intimacy, tearing down masks, and moving beyond the shallow messages the world sells us, I can’t help but think of her special appearance to speak to a packed stadium of women who were just joking about buying new outfits for the conference. It all comes off gimmicky, performance as life. She speaks at Belong, but wouldn’t step foot in a church that upholds the inerrancy of Scripture. Those who believe what the Bible says about the one way to salvation do not belong. There is no listening to those who want to outreach with truth and love. She writes on and on about wholesome body image, and yet her profile picture on the back, inside cover reveals that a remarkably thin woman is writing this book. And while she mentions bleaching her hair as one of her pathetic attempts to follow the “hidden rules” of society so that she can appear sexy, I notice in her latest Facebook update that she is now a blonde again.  
And I feel betrayed. The substance that I was so attracted to throughout the first three quarters of the book pinpointed the messages of the sexual revolution with such clarity. But Melton ends the book with a Christianized version of that same movement. She ostensibly fights for family and is horrified that other women have been brought into her marriage, threatening her children’s gift of a mommy and daddy who love one another. But this book was just released in September and she is already pronouncing her love for another woman. That “today” in the renewal of her wedding vows must have really meant just today!
Where is the love warrior in this message?
Photo from Buzzfeed,from the Instagrams of Nichole Nordeman, Glennon Doyle Melton, Jen Hatmaker, and Belong Tour, via
Posted on Friday, November 11, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
Women sometimes get the message that they are always supposed to be smiling and happy. After all, the Bible does tell all Christians that we are to rejoice in the Lord always (Phil. 4:4) and to count it all joy when we meet trials (James 1:2). We see that the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness (Gal. 5:22). But what if you struggle with depression? What if you are groaning within over a trial? Are Christians allowed to express these kinds of emotions? What are we supposed to do with them?
This is what Christina Fox confronts in her book A Heart Set Free. As someone who suffers off and on with depression herself, Fox is sensitive to the darker side of emotions. And she wants to encourage the believer that “the Psalms, especially the Psalms of Lament, give us a structure for how to express our feelings” (17).
In Part One, Fox discusses a whole host of emotions that women feel imprisoned by such as anxiety, shame, despair, worry, rejection, stress, and irritability, and looks at the different ways we try to handle them before revealing what our real problems and needs are. She speaks with understanding while taking the reader to the real issues behind her emotions and her greatest need in Christ. Fox depicts these emotions well and has a solid gospel presentation throughout the book. One concern I did have was the way she explains why we are emotional beings under the subtitle, The Origins of Despair:
Since God is an emotional being, we know that emotions have always existed. God feels emotions such as love, joy, peace, jealousy, anger, and sadness (Exod. 34:14, Rom. 1:18, Rom. 5:5, John 11:35). In fact, it was out of his great love and joy that He created us. He desired to share with us the same perfect love that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have enjoyed together from all eternity. (36)
While Fox gives us a good doctrine of salvation in her book, I hoped to see a more thorough doctrine of God here. I wish she had qualified these statements more, making the sharp distinction that God’s affections are not passionate and involuntary, as we know human emotions to be. What I mean by this is that God does not have emotions that are reactive and changing. He certainly isn’t stoic or apathetic, but his affections are sovereign, true, perfect, and cognitive. Classical theology refers to this as divine impassibility. Our emotions are not only cognitive, but also have physiological elements. It would have been helpful here to discuss the incarnation and how Jesus, as the God-man, fully took on our suffering. To be fair, Fox certainly introduces the role of Christ in her gospel sections; I am just referring to expanding upon this talk on emotions and God. And I do not think that Fox is specifically teaching that God is passible, but it could be read the wrong way and would have been good to insert some teaching on this in a book about emotions, especially here where she speaks of the internal acts of God.
The meat of the book introduces the Psalms of Lament as a way to express and shape our feelings, teach us more about God, reorient us to truth, and ultimately to trust and worship our great God. Fox begins this section with a chapter on Jesus and the Psalms, which helps to orient the reader from the beginning. She also breaks down the parts that compose the Psalms of Lament well, which leads to practical teaching about our own lamenting.
This book is a good introduction to the Psalms of Lament for those who battle powerful emotions that seem to rob them of their hope. Fox assures women that even strong people like David experienced powerful emotions and we can learn from how he cried out to God. Not only that, she shows how remembering God’s faithfulness helps us to overcome irrational as well as legitimate emotions. She teaches the believer how to speak the truth to herself, the importance of confession to God, and how to pray her own laments.
One important take away from Fox’s book is that we need to lament:
We need to lament not because we are without hope but because we have faith in God. We also need to lament so that we can enter into the pain we so often avoid in order to know the peace that God gives those who come to him in peace.” (78)
This is true not only for women, but for men as well. Hopefully this book will also help women to be more open with others when they are experiencing emotions that seem overwhelming. Our God is never overwhelmed. Fox shows well how the Psalms of Lament can teach us how to bring our emotions before God, leading to that fruit of joy in Christ that we so desperately long for. 
Posted on Thursday, November 10, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
I am currently reading a fascinating book, Gospel Women: Studies of the Named Women in the Gospels, by Richard Bauckham.  In it, he makes the case that biblical feminists are wrong in regarding the canon of Scripture “as a hopelessly patriarchal construction.” There is so much to mine out of his self-described painstaking historical work in this book.  One thing I really appreciate is the overarching theme that the named women in the gospels and the Scriptures as a whole are not merely tokens thrown in as props, accidental vestiges that somehow slipped through the canonical process without getting suppressed, or a patronizing general recognition to the contribution of women. His work respects “the fact that these women and their stories are remarkable for their particularity, rather than for their typicality or representativeness” (xix).
Throughout Scripture, we get snap shots from a woman’s perspective and experience, which is strange to say considering its male writers. Bauckham brilliantly introduces the idea of “gynocentric interruption of the dominant androcentricity of Scripture” in his first chapter The Book of Ruth as Key to Gynocentric Reading of Scripture:
Andre Brink’s novel The Wall of the Plague is written in the first person. The novelist is a male Afrikaner, the “I” of the narrative is a “coloured” (mixed race) South African woman. The thoroughgoing adoption of a female character’s perspective is intensified by vivid accounts even of distinctively female physical experience. But in the concluding short section of the novel the voice changes.  The woman’s South African white male lover speaks, and in the last two pages of the work reveals that he, not she, has written the story, as an attempt to “imagine what it would be like to be you.” As he approaches the task of writing the narrative the reader has just completed, he fears failure: “how can I, how dare I presume to form you from my rib?...To do justice to you an essential injustice is required. That is the heart of my dilemma. I can never be you: yet in order to be myself I must imagine what it is like to be you.” By this ingenious device of two levels of fictional authorship, the real author distances himself from the attempt he has made to imagine what it is like to be this woman. It is, after all, only a white male’s attempt to imagine what it is like to be a mixed-race woman. But readers have known this all along. How does the final revelation function for them? Is it the author’s bid to preempt their charge that he has not been fully successful? More seriously, what it does is to acknowledge, within the imaginative world the novel has created, the readers’ consciousness that behind the female voice lurks the male author…as it is, the revelation draws this knowledge into the world of the novel itself and makes into an inner-textual reality the tension between extra-textual knowledge and world that they have never entirely been able to escape. (2)
Likewise, Bauckham shows us that in Ruth we have the female voice, an Israelite woman’s perspective on ancient Israelite society, until the last few verses.  “Thus the book of Ruth, its conclusion tells us, is the kind of story that official, masculine history leaves out.” Bauckham goes on to highlight other gynocentric interruptions in Scripture, where the female voice dominates, not to compete with the man’s, but to complement it, exposing “the narrative as pitifully inadequate in its androcentric selectivity” (11). The female voice in the Song of Songs highlights the mutuality of the lovers. The book of Esther has a predominately female voice. Even in parts of Genesis we see the matriarch voices interrupting the more dominant perspectives of the patriarchs, “throw[ing] light on their androcentric contexts. This will occur in different ways, depending on whether the women are, like Deborah, historically exceptional, in the sense that probably few women played such roles historically, or, like Hannah, textually exceptional, in the sense that they make visible what is normally invisible in the texts” (13).
As you can see, this book is about more than the named women in the gospels! But he does get there, making some fascinating connections along the way. Next week, I hope to highlight one of those connections, between Rahab and the Canaanite woman who is healed in Matthew 15:21-28.
But Chapter One was such a breath of fresh air. Often, I am corrected when I speak of a woman’s perspective. Even Dorothy Sayers makes the argument downplaying such a thing as a feminine perspective as just the perspective of a fellow human being. And while I’m with Sayers partly here, especially in her emphasis that women should not have to deal with constantly being assessed by our femaleness, I do think that our contributions and even our presence as females offers a multifaceted asymmetrical balance when centered on truth. We are adding more than just the perspective of another human being, but not less. We see this missing both when we are stereotyped and when we are absent altogether. 
And so later in the book Bauckham refers to women as active traditioners in the handing down of the faith. He rightly concludes his first chapter affirming the purposeful inclusion of these gynocentric texts. “Rather than viewing these texts as surprising survivors of the attempt to suppress such literature, we may reasonably suppose that the importance of women in the grassroots process of canonical selection led to their inclusion precisely as women’s literature, in order to counterbalance the androcentrism of the rest of Scripture” (16).
Posted on Tuesday, November 01, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
Humble Roots is a different kind of book. Hannah Anderson has written a refreshing approach to a virtue we would all love to be called, but so rarely want to pursue. A book like this almost seems wrong to review. When I saw that Hannah was writing about humility, I thought, “Wow, she is brave.” And this is true; Hannah is a brave woman. But this isn’t the kind of book you think it is.
Hannah isn’t just telling us that we need to be humble and then telling us how to do it. She challenges what we think about humility. For example, we often gauge our humility by how we feel. But Hannah reminds us:
Remember that humility, itself, is not an emotional state. Humility is not feeling a certain way about yourself, not feeling small or low or embarrassed or even humiliated. Theologically speaking, humility is a proper understanding of who God is and who we are as a result. We may feel certain things because of this understanding---we may feel safe in the care of our Creator or we may feel fear when we disobey Him---but these emotions are the result of our reverence for God. (103)
This is what Hannah does in her book---she uses horticultural illustrations to teach a proper understanding of who God is, and who we are as a result. And it’s beautiful. In the end, we aren’t shamed or brought low, but elevated by our joy in the Lord.
Don’t label this as a women’s book. Humility isn’t a woman’s issue; it’s a human issue. Hannah writes with a feminine perspective that both men and women can learn from. Her theology in each chapter is also taught with experience in the different horticultural illustrations that lend so well to the topic. 
It’s also a personal book. Hannah sought to answer her own questions about humility in this project as she finds herself in “the throes of responsible adulthood.” Unfortunately, her vocations of caring for her family, serving the church as a pastor’s wife, and pursuing good work kept her mind reeling at night and she was unable to turn it off and go to sleep. And so in her pursuit for rest, Hannah found joy in her humble roots. She explains that the goal of this book “is to understand how pride manifests itself in anxiety and restlessness; and how humility frees us from the cycle of stress, performance, and competition” (12). She aims for the reader to “see how humility---how knowing ourselves as creatures---also help us see the extent of our pride in our everyday choices, from how we use social media to how we give and receive compliments” (11). 
In successfully fulfilling this aim, Hannah makes important connections to teach us about emotional humility, wisdom and humility, humility that is productive, a humility that takes risks, that is thankfully repentant, and that faces death and finds true rest. I love how Hannah ends the book with the answers to her opening questions about the struggle she was having getting to sleep every night:
“In many ways, the act of sleep is itself a spiritual act, an act of humility.  To sleep, we must stop our work. To sleep, we must lay out bodies down. To sleep, we must trust another to care for us…
“Through practicing this trust every night, He is teaching us how to trust Him when He finally calls us to Himself.” (204-205) 
It reminded me of a talk Carl Trueman did on mortality at King’s College titled, “Each Day Dies with Sleep.” We are not God. Christians can rest in this blessing. Trueman reflected on how our understanding of our mortality is critical to how we live our everyday lives. Anderson explains this so well in her book, showing many of the ways our Creator teaches us about his care in creation, by dealing honestly with the curse from the fall, and by teaching us to be good stewards of all that God has created and entrusted to us under his sovereign providence with an eye towards the resurrection.
I read this book in two days due to a tight schedule I’m following and my desire to help get the word out about Hannah’s new book. But I plan on coming back to Humble Roots for the respite it will continually give.

Humble Roots: How Humility Grounds and Nourishes Your Soul

Posted on Monday, October 31, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
I’ve enjoyed Michael Horton’s The Christian Faith for some time now. However, it’s not exactly a book to recommend for someone new to adding a systematic theology to his or her library. Thankfully, Horton realized this as well and has done the work to make another version for the serious layperson. I’ve recently been able to look through his Pilgrim Theology: Core Doctrines for Christian Disciples, and will now be recommending it when asked about where to start with systematic theology. 
First of all, I love that Horton’s introduction is an aim to answer the question, Why Study Theology? And in this description, he sets up the coordinates for the rest of the book: drama, doctrine, doxology, and discipleship:
All of our faith and practice arise out of the drama of Scripture, the “big story” that traces the plot of history from creation to consummation, with Christ as its Alpha and Omega, beginning and end. And out of the throbbing verbs of this unfolding drama God reveals stable nouns---doctrines. From what God does in history we are taught certain things about who he is and what it means to be created in his image, fallen, and redeemed, renewed, and glorified in union with Christ. As the Father creates his church, in his Son and by his Spirit, we come to realize what this covenant community is and what it means to belong to it; what kind of future is promised to us in Christ, and how we are to live here and now in light of it all. The drama and the doctrine provoke us to praise and worship---doxology---and together these three coordinates give us a new way of living in the world as disciples. (16)
With these coordinates in place, Horton gives us a pilgrim theology so that we too enter “into a long, ongoing conversation, one that we didn’t begin” (14).  
One of Horton’s strengths is that he can teach at both an academic and a popular level. This work of theology is presented in an accessible way for a wider audience of serious learners. And we should all want to be serious learners. Horton doesn’t water anything down, rather, he gives us the meat that he’s already tenderized and cut into manageable portions. So the reader will learn new vocabulary, the important words in each chapter being boldfaced. At the end of each chapter are a review of key terms, key distinctions, and key questions for the individual reader or study group to work through for further understanding. He provides helpful charts and highlights these key distinctions in each chapter.
I love that Horton uses these key distinctions to help the reader learn discernment. At the end of the book, there is short section on why this is important, along with a summary of all those distinctions he taught throughout the book and the page numbers to go back and find them on. There is also a glossary of terms in the back of the book, another helpful chart applying the coordinates from drama to doctrine, and a Scripture index. Not only that, you can cruise over to the Zondervan website to get more teaching and study resources for both teachers and students.
But it gets even better: Zondervan has the Pilgrim Theology ebook on sale this week for only $7.99. There’s just no excuse not to have a good systematic theology book that provides a great biblical and historical explanation of the Reformed faith, the Pilgrim’s faith, on your bookshelf. The Christian Faith ebook is also on sale for $8.99. These are excellent prices! While you are at the website, also notice Michael Bird’s new book, What Christians Ought to Believe is on sale as well.
Posted on Friday, October 28, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
My social media newsfeed lit up last night with a Christianity Today article covering the story that Lifeway has pulled bestselling author Jen Hatmaker’s books over her recent statement affirming homosexuality:
The Southern Baptist chain stated Thursday that the author’s statements “contradict LifeWay’s doctrinal guidelines,” and it has discontinued selling her books in its 185 stores or online. Spokesman Marty King said:
In the past, LifeWay Christian Resources published several resources with Jen Hatmaker. In a recent interview, she voiced significant changes in her theology of human sexuality and the meaning and definition of marriage—changes which contradict LifeWay’s doctrinal guidelines.
My newsfeed was divided between people who are celebrating this stance and who are upset over this decision. And I find myself annoyed over the whole thing. While I affirm that the Bible clearly shows that Christian marriage is between one man and one woman and that homosexuality is a sin, I still find myself scratching my head over Lifeway’s “doctrinal guidelines.” Why is Lifeway, or any of us, surprised at Jen Hatmaker’s statement? 
Lifeway had no problem profiting from the sales many copies of her other books. In fact, their bestseller’s list tells me that they have low doctrinal guidelines when it comes to selling so-called Christian books. These books err on primary doctrines: who God is, the message of salvation, the word of God, and what the Bible says about man. And the books that are sold in the “women’s” genre can be the worst offenders. So those who read from Lifeway’s bestsellers of Christian books to women have already been conditioned to have a low view of God, a high view of man, and a distorted gospel. I have already opined over and over that Hatmaker has offended in these very ways. 
So, I wonder, what are Lifeway’s doctrinal guidelines to a statement like this:
Consequently, I have heard more sermons, talks, messages, and lectures on Christianity than can possibly be impactful. I have spent half my life listening to someone else talk about God. Because of this history, I’ve developed something of an immunity to sermons. . . . 
Teaching by example, radical obedience, justice, mercy, activism, and sacrifice wholly inspires me. I am at that place where “well done” trumps “well said.”
That is an interesting take on the preached Word and its effectiveness. We see from a statement like this one from Hatmaker’s bestselling book, 7, that for years Lifeway has been promoting a view that authoritative, transforming teaching is not from the preached Word, but from man’s actions. She could have taken an opportunity to teach about how faith without works is dead, that by participating in the ordinary means of the preached Word and the sacraments we are putting ourselves where God has promised to bless us in Christ, and how that should then produce the fruit of righteousness and good works as we are sent out into the world with the benediction. But since Hatmaker teaches a priority of our good works over receiving God’s Word to his covenant people, it’s no wonder that she would now proclaim that man gets to decide what is good when it comes to our sexuality. Why are we surprised?
Later in her book, Hatmaker shares a monastic practice called seven sacred pauses: 
Each pause has a focus, and like Wiederkehr explains, “Each day we are summoned to be creators of the present moment. Artists know the value of white space. Sometimes what isn’t there enables us to see what is. Perhaps you are being called to the spiritual practice of bringing a little of the white space—of nada—into your workday. There in that white space you will find your soul waiting for you. Allow the anointing rhythm of the hours to touch and teach you each day.”
We should ask some discerning questions here. Does Scripture ever even insinuate that we need to find our souls? Are we to be taught by something as vague as anointing rhythms that we need to seek out each day? Are we to empty ourselves, creating a white space, in order to gain our souls? What does this even mean? 
Over three years ago, I wrote an article after Hatmaker announced her “new tribe,” the IF: Gathering, again, asking some discerning questions. This movement aims to disciple women outside of the context of church. The language Hatmaker used in that announcement was full of red flags.
But Hatmaker’s doctrine on all these matters made it through Lifeway’s guidelines. I’m curious about how homosexuality is the marker of orthodoxy. What message are we really sending to homosexuals? We don’t care what our Christian authors teach about God and his Word, but we are going to take a stand when they start making statements about your lifestyle being acceptable---that’s where we draw the line.
I’m not only speaking of Lifeway here. This latest just illustrates something very bothersome---more than that---very dangerous. The reason I care about social issues and sexuality is because of my doctrine of God and salvation. I know that God is true and that he is good. I know that I can trust his Word and I know that he can change hearts and he can forgive the worst of sinners. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be bold in calling a sin, sin. But if we care about homosexuals, and if we care about anyone else, we will want them to hear the true gospel message. Hatmaker now proclaims to love homosexuals more than Christians who rightly say that they are living in sin. And yet her message to them will lead only to despair. 
This is the same message she has been teaching for years.
We have got to care more about the teaching that is marketed to our churches. What is Lifeway really taking a stand for? If you are perpetuating the teaching of a higher view of man than God, don’t get righteous when it comes to the social issues, because it comes off as self-righteousness, not God’s righteousness. 
Posted on Thursday, October 06, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
Here is an issue I struggle with. And it is a wisdom issue. It’s strange to realize that, because the wisdom I’m speaking about is the proper times to share wisdom. I’m finding this is getting more difficult as I am parenting teenagers. They don’t always appreciate their mom and dad’s wisdom like I thought they would. It’s difficult to know the best timing, the best words, and the best opportunities to share it. This is especially true when it comes to the spiritual truths that we so want to encourage and exhort them in. It’s also the case with other family members or friends. It’s an important art in being a good wife as well. There’s a fine line between being helpful and being a nag.
And then there’s me. I struggle with not wanting to hear wisdom when it is inconvenient for me. And part of that wisdom is that it’s not all up to me. I’m not God.
This is where I received some unexpected wisdom from Liam Goligher’s sermon series on Esther. It wasn’t unexpected to receive wisdom from Liam, but I got some bonus wisdom in his rabbit trails. I highly recommend that you listen to the series.
When he got to the part where Mordecai advises Esther not to reveal her Jewish ancestry, Liam shared, “God gave to her the wisdom that she needed to survive.” He then talked about his frustration in reading a commentator who taught that Esther didn’t have the courage to take a stand for her faith. He refuted this teaching saying, “This teenager, who is on her own and surrounded in an armed camp by soldiers, doesn’t stand a chance.”
And then Liam dropped that wisdom that is hard for me to learn: “Sometimes the way of wisdom is not to say anything until the appropriate time.”
He turns to Peter, who gives wisdom to wives with unbelieving husbands: “Win them without words.” This is such a difficult text. Without words? The gospel is an announcement. Christians are people of the Word. And we know that our lives are not the gospel. But they should adorn the gospel. People often use this “without words” argument as a pass to not take a stand for the truth of God’s word when we really should, or to not bother sharing the gospel if we just lead good lives. But Liam explains the wisdom of a patient faith that waits on the Lord for the right time to speak:
“If you’re in a close personal friendship with people or in a marriage, or at home with parents, or siblings who are not Christians, you rabbiting on all the time about Jesus is really going to get up their nose and make them more hostile to Jesus. In close relationships like that, you’re better to wait, and Peter goes on to say this actually further down that chapter…wait until you’re asked and then be ready to say something. Wait until you’re asked. And Esther was given the wisdom to wait.
We need that wisdom to wait as well, “especially when you are living with people everyday, and especially when the people you’re with aren’t believers."
“The great temptation that we face as Christian people is to talk too much, and to talk a lot about spiritual things to people who are not ready to hear it too much. And when you’re up close and personal, whether it’s with your unbelieving husband or your children who are going through a rebellious period in their teens and they don’t want to talk about anything, the danger is that you let your mouth run with it and you start talking. And what you do is you push them away, make life harder for them, you wish them to wish they don’t want to be there anymore because you’re talking too much and forcing it on them. What we find in Esther, what we find in Mordecai, is that they learn the wisdom, the wisdom that Joseph learned, as he quietly slips into Egyptian life, the wisdom of Moses in the court of Pharaoh growing up, of Daniel in Babylon, and of Paul before the Roman empire, showing respect and wisdom before the powers that be. 
But we don’t just stay quiet forever. Esther didn’t stay quiet either. Liam reminds us that Peter didn’t stop with “without words.” “Until you get to the place where your speaking will make the maximum impact….’always being ready to give a reason for the hope you have to anyone who asks you.' …Answer their questions, but be careful not to besiege them with your ideas at inappropriate moments.”
This is hard for me. And yes, there are differences when we are communicating with believers and unbelievers. I often struggle the most with the right times to speak with believers at different levels of maturity. With teenagers in the house, it’s a different dynamic than it is with young children or with adults. I still need to remember that they are not ready to hear some of the deeper spiritual truths that I’m ready to share. Trust me, I wish they were. But God knows more than I do, and I need to be sensitive to their maturity levels. Again, there’s a fine line between responsible, godly parenting, and forcing “wisdom” on them.
And that is why I am so thankful for the Christian practices that we share. We are blessed to be called out of the world and into the assembly of the saints every Sunday to hear God speak to us through the preached Word. And God’s word is active and powerful, not just for mature Christians or for new converts, but for all of us in between. I’m thankful for the nourishment we receive in all the sacraments. I’m thankful for the practices of Sunday school and bible study that our church offers, and how that is a regular part of life for the Christian. I’m thankful for the support and encouragement from my brothers and sisters in the Lord. And I’m thankful for family devotions, prayers together, and all those bedtime tuck-in moments that shape us. I’m thankful that I can ask for wisdom and the Lord promises to give it. Most of all, I’m thankful that even when I blow it (which is more often than I’d like to think) by running my mouth too much or not speaking up when I should, I’m not the one whom God is counting on to save and sanctify my children, my family, or my friends. It’s a blessing that I get to be a part of it, but I’m learning about a patient faith that waits on the Lord for my own sanctification and all those he loves.
Posted on Monday, September 26, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
Hannah Anderson and Wendy Alsup posted Part One of what looks like an engaging three part series on the new, permanent ESV translation of Gen. 3:16 and 4:7. 
Here are two standout paragraphs to whet your palette as to why this is important:
But more than simply creating confusion, the change to Genesis 3:16 is significant because it touches the pinched nerve that is gendered relationships in the evangelical church. While all of Scripture is necessary to life and godliness, Genesis 3:16 has particular bearing on the gender conversation because it helps to frame our understanding of the difficulties that men and women face after the Fall. And how we understand the brokenness of the world drives the solutions that we try to reach. This is not simply a matter of differing opinions about the proper translation of an isolated passage of Scripture. Set in the middle of the account of the Fall, Genesis 3:16 identifies and thus guides the nature and challenges to women’s spiritual formation in a post-Fall world. Translating this passage accurately has both academic and pastoral implications.
We can only reach and sustain a conservative reading of gender through a conservative approach to translation. If the Scripture is not carefully guarded from sociological constructs (both conservative and liberal), we risk losing the very authority on which we base our understanding of gender.  How can we call the Church and the world to reflect the Scriptural teaching on gender if we lose the Scripture itself? Without the Scripture, liberalism devolves into androgyny and conservatism into misogyny.
They also open with a great illustration for why laywomen would be able to engage in such an undertaking as Bible translation.
Take a look at the whole article here.
Posted on Thursday, September 22, 2016 by Aimee Byrd on Housewife Theologian
Building off of our important discussion about traditional doctrine on this week’s Mortification of Spin podcast, I want to address something I see in a lot of popular level Christian books. There is a false notion among evangelicals that we can either trust in the ordinary means of grace and the church’s creedal catechetical tradition, or we can be sensitive to the Holy Spirit’s leading. The notion is that we can follow an old custom or we can follow the Source himself.
And so much of this teaching on following the Spirit sounds a lot like the game of telephone. In the game of telephone, one person passes along a message by whispering in another person’s ear. That person then whispers what they think they’ve heard to another ear, and this continues with the goal for the final receiver of the message to try and speak the original message. If you’ve ever played telephone, you know how silly the message can end up. Likewise, to some Christians the idea of following the Spirit goes something like this:  Jesus is calling, his Holy Spirit will deliver the important personal message, and now you need to obey this inner voice and then figure out which Scripture supports it. We may even do some lucky dipping, hoping the Spirit will lead us to our devotion for the day by the “providence” of where our Bible randomly opens and to where our finger falls.  Then maybe we’ll have that light bulb moment of clarity.
We all know the Spirit’s work is important, but many are unclear how to follow the Spirit. Do we take prayerful walks and wait on his leading? Is that how we receive his teaching? Do we clear our minds and wait for his prompting? Can we quiet ourselves enough to hear God’s whisper? Can others authoritatively deliver a personal message to us through the Spirit?
Many of you will agree that this is not exactly how the Spirit works.  But how does he then? A more sophisticated approach may be to point to the Spirit’s illumination in our private reading and interpretation of Scripture. But this sort of Biblicism can also be misleading. I will get into that with more detail in a later post, but it's worth mentioning now that there is more to the Spirit’s work in our receiving God’s word than meeting us during our personal devotion and biblical studies. 
Both the charismatic and the conservative, more subtle teaching on the Holy Spirit and God’s word cuts us off from the Trinitarian work in communicating God’s word to the whole communion of the saints.  And for some reason this exciting teaching often comes off as as a spiritual buzz kill. I am referring to church tradition and ordinary means of grace. 
Michael Allen and Scot Swain address the relationship between the Holy Spirit and church traditioning in their book Reformed Catholicity, emphasizing the importance of understanding that the Spirit’s identity as teacher to the church flows from his “eternal identity as the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father and the Son” (26). In John 16:13-15 we see that the Spirit of truth’s mission to his church expresses the outgoing nature in the Godhead. He isn’t just a Spirit with truths to share with us; he is the truth. His being, which is the same substance with the Father and the Son, is truth. Allen and Swain remind us, “This divine truth…is not something that the Spirit possesses, as a message that is distinguishable from its messenger. Truth is what the Sprit is: ‘The Spirit is the truth’ (1 John 5:6; cf. John 14:6)”  (30).
In the inner life of the Trinity there is a distinguishing, outgoing order---one where the Son proceeds from the Father and the Sprit proceeds from both the Father and the Son. Derek Rishmawey refers to this eternal procession, not as “some event long past, but…God’s presently perfect overflowing liveliness. (Every now and then you find a tweet that spins gold.) In this order, the Spirit hears and “receives from the Son that which belongs to his own nature” (30). He is outgoing, overflowing. As a reflection of this procession, he then speaks and proclaims his self-knowledge to his church in the economy of salvation. The Spirit is God; therefore he comprehends the thoughts of God. And he communicates truth to his people. 
But unlike the game of telephone, the Holy Spirit doesn’t merely speak a message to us, hoping we can decipher it. And he doesn’t leave us to our own private judgment in interpretation when we read Scripture. He is life giving, making us new creations as he dwells with us. He creates the very faith we need to hear his voice in his Word. He doesn’t merely dwell detached with individual believers, but with his entire covenant community of saints.
How does he do this? “The Spirit causes the prophets and apostles first to ‘understand’ and then to ‘impart’ the ‘secret hidden wisdom of God’ in ‘words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit’ (1 Cor. 2:7, 12-13) with the result that, in hearing the prophetic and apostolic writings, we hear ‘what the Spirit says to the churches’ (Rev. 3:6)” (32).  By his work of inspiration, we are given the Holy Scriptures, and “by his work of illumination, the Spirit completes the movement of divine self-manifestation by causing the divine wisdom published in the prophetic and apostolic writings to be received and confessed by the church” (32). 
Since God has communicated this way and Christ promised that his Spirit would abide with his church forever (John 16:14), Swain and Allen confidently identify the church as the “school of Christ” which “holds the promise of theological flourishing” (33). God has connected the work of his Spirit to his ordinary means of grace.
The Spirit’s work is so much richer than the low view we often give him. “The Spirit, who hears and speaks the truth within God’s Triune life, creates, sustains, and directs a fellowship that hears and speaks truth within history” (34). Notice that it isn’t a privatized truth for a single individual, or even a single church, but to the whole church within history. This is where traditioning comes in.
We aren’t talking about an old custom of extra teaching that becomes outdated. We are talking about the “Spirit-enabled”, passing down from one generation to another, “reception of Scripture” (36).
I’ll close with Allen and Swain’s quoting Herman Bavinck’s beautiful description of this:
After Jesus completed his work, he sent forth the Holy Spirit who, while adding nothing new to the revelation, still guides the church into the truth (John 16:12-15) until it passes through all diversity and arrives at the unity of faith and the knowledge of the Son of God (Eph. 3:18, 19: 4:13). In this sense, there is a good, true, and glorious tradition. It is the method by which the Holy Spirit causes the truth of Scripture to pass into the consciousness and the life of the church. Scripture, after all, is only a means, not the goal. The goal is that, instructed by Scripture, the church will freely and independently make known “the wonderful deeds of him who called it out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). The external word is the instrument, the internal word the aim. Scripture will have reached its destination when all have been taught by the Lord and are filled with the Holy Spirit. (36)