"The Woman"

I sometimes feel harassed, hounded, mocked by a woman.  I see and hear her everywhere. The woman does not have a name, I've called her "the woman" for awhile now. The woman is an image that seems real , but is the product of a lie. This woman has perfect teeth, a flawless complexion, hair that is styled perfectly, eyes that shine brightly, a beautiful smile, a perfect body that fits into stunning clothing.  I hear her whisper in my mind , "You don't look like me.  You need to loose weight.  You need more clothing. You need more of everything.  You are not desirable. ".  I already know that this is a lie, I know the pictures/videos are edited, but because it is continually beating against me I need to remind myself. People use her image to sell almost everything.

  My husband and I have spoken about her a number of times and I've come to realize that she targets men as much as women.  She offers men pleasure without the pain of relationships. She attempts to take over what a woman should act like, feel like, talk like, look like. Mark has even yelled at her on the way home, telling her to "Go away!". The women that try to look like her generally don't have four children, they don't enjoy freedom in what they eat or wear. She has no place in our family.  I think by labeling her as a "her" and calling her "the woman" I began to separate her from myself.    

Remembering excerpts from a book I read ("Captivating" John & Staci Eldredge), the Bible, and conversations with my husband I am beginning to piece together what a woman is meant to be like, what we all are already like.  The term "beautiful" has a much deeper meaning then physical features. I still have not worked it all out, but every once in awhile I get snap shots of how my husband or children see me.  My husband loves me, not just my image, but how I think and act as well.  One "snap shot" that comes to mind now involves this picture below.  My daughter saw this Leonardo Da Vinci drawing on the cover of a book I was reading and she asked her dad "Is that mommy?". My amusement turned to amazement as my husband answered "No sweetheart, but it does look a lot like mommy doesn't it?".  I remember thinking "Is that really how they see me?".  As an artist , being compared to a work of art means a lot to me. Art is special (a portion of it anyway) because it can highlight the higher form of beauty that seems so evasive. Just then it was as if God told me "You are my work of art", a higher form of beauty, a Godly pure beauty that reflects God and shows people more of who He is.  This is what I need to think about, this is who I need to become.  "The woman" is again exposed as lie used by the devil  to deceive and entrap people.
 

Witnessing = sharing what you have

The word "witnessing" used to be frightening to me.  I grew up in churches that tended to use the word witnessing along with words like "missionary" or "missions" usually in the context of overseas mission work. I remember hearing people carefully telling me a list of bible verses I was to memorize, or giving out booklets that said the right words, handing out tracts and even classes on how to witness to someone. While I don't want to judge any church's view on witnessing (the word still makes me shutter a bit inside), I do have doubts on how it was presented to me. From my perspective it seemed like the subject was taught two different ways; you could go "overseas" and translate the bible and start churches , or you could "reach the lost" in your own neighborhood (usually in a crowded place like a mall). There always seemed to be a method or a formula that you needed in order to make a successful convert or go on a mission trip.

Standing on a street corner teaching anyone who happened to be listening was terrifying to my introverted nature. Handing out tracts in the mall was equally repulsive to me.  Asking loaded questions and setting up strong man arguments didn't sit well with me.  The thought of going on a mission trip made me feel guilty because I really wasn't interested in doing puppet shows, building walls or visiting orphanages. The one and only reason I considered going on mission trips was my love of travel and culture, I didn't consider that a "call" and it felt wrong to ask people for money just so I could travel around (that was another terrifying prospect- asking for money). The word "witnessing" became an instant trigger to a feeling of guilt. What I wanted most of all was to be useful to God. Facing the options that were so against my nature made me feel like I was failing God somehow.  I remember hearing church members joyfully talking about people they led to Jesus.  I didn't have one person that I had witnessed to that became a convert , in fact , I don't recall "witnessing" to anyone at all.  Gaining a convert almost seemed like a happy occurrence in which a Christian would gain another jewel in his/her crown that was waiting for them in heaven.

In high school thoughts of being useful to God somehow were always in the back of my head. I prayed and distressed about what career I was to choose. I had two subjects I enjoyed , art and biology. While  I was dealing with other things beyond my understanding at the time (explained in another blog of mine) , I didn't feel like I was an effective tool for God. I had friends , but religion never seemed to come up and if it did, I would chicken out and stay out of the conversation. I remember taking evolution in biology class and thinking I was sitting through a complete waste of time. The teacher kindly allowed me to present creation to the class.  I chose a Kent Hovind lecture movie (an acceptable and enjoyable movie in my church library).  It was a very poor choice, and for the first time I noticed a big difference in how I perceived the truth compared to how others saw it.  What I was missing was empathy and love for people and relationships (Kent Hovind was disrespectful and condescending) . Nearing the end of my high school years I was faced with a choice , a career in art or biology.  I prayed and stressed , finally choosing nursing as a career , because being a nurse surely would be more useful to God then an artist.  I concluded that sacrificing my true passion (art) for God was a like a high unselfish calling. After a short career in nursing God taught me how incredibly wrong I was.

I liked the job of a nurse .I liked taking care of people , but like many others who miss their calling , I burnt out, and to this day have no desire to return to the field of nursing. I had even gone on a mission trip by my self , to Togo, West Africa.  I started out my trip thinking I was going to benefit the developing world somehow and ended it by learning lessons in humility and the harsh reality of poverty (mine and theirs). I slowly realised that God created me to love art and wanted me to be an artist (among other things). I was most useful to Him when I was myself , doing what He created me to love.  I was a useful tool to Him when I shared with others what I loved  and allowed myself to get closer to Him (becoming more like Him).  Now I realize that I need to share Him through paintings, stories, and being a wife and mother, things I am already qualified for.  I don't need a formula, I need to love and respect others. I need to learn to listen to God and open my mind to different perspectives. I don't have to convince people of the truth in the gospel , I need to live it. I don't need special training, I need to be willing to share/give away what I have. I don't need to leave the country to be a missionary, I can focus on teaching my children about Him (not converts, but disciples). I remembered the analogy of the body that Paul uses to describe the church. People are unique and are created to serve God in unique ways , just like the many different parts of our body.  What a relief it is to ignore the pressure of not doing "enough" and to focus instead on who God wants me to be.