Relationship and Faith ...

I just finished reading the article below, as my thoughtful and caring husband brought me a lovely glass of red wine (my favourite) while supper is just finishing up (of which HE willingly prepared for our family ... ) Tony and I haved been attending a "Protestant" based church for almost 8 years now. Rarely have we fit into the 'typical' male/female roles as dictated by many Christian denominations. Often, in group situations, we found ourselves in opposite company - Tony discussing the baking of banana bread with the ladies, and me discussing politics or current affairs with the gentlemen. Our personalities are what they are - and we both appreciate each other's strengths and hope to offer grace and mercy for each other in our weaknesses. We have struggles, as any couple does: failing in our intimacy when we lack forgiveness and growing when we return to the Lord in our brokeness.

Upon reading this article, my heart ached for this young woman - I have friends raised in similar, "legalistic" churches ... (pertaining to "religious laws"). I listen to their struggles and pain as they relay to me the oppressive rules they were forced to endure under the guise of "Biblical Teaching". I have wondered and prayed to my Lord about this fear-filled teaching and pride-filled understanding of Himself. At times, I have even strayed into this very line of thinking with my parenting style - hoping that if my children followed all the rules and obeyed me without question, I could somehow save them from the "growing pains" that so many of us endure as children. Well ... to quote a favourite movie ... " ... if he never has to go through anything - then he'll never GO THROUGH anything " (Dori - from 'Finding Nemo').

Do I still pray for and hope to teach my children? Absolutely ... but now my focus is on showing grace and mercy to my children as the seek to find their way on this journey through life - and I hope that I can share my Best Friend with them - Jesus. I hope they choose Him and His ways every moment of every day - will they? Well ... if they do - it is by His grace alone. Do I choose Him and His ways every moment of every day ? No ... I'm sorry to say it ... but no - and if I do ... it is by His grace alone. Yet, I KNOW THAT I KNOW THAT I KNOW He has saved my and will NEVER forsake me and NEVER leave me. I hope this young lady knows it too ...

"When does submission go too far?" by Andrea Bianchi
September 24, 2007

“They have dogs for that,” I whispered to my mother as I leaned across the pew. She laughed, then told me to be quiet and listen to the sermon. But I was listening—had been for the past 15 years my family had attended legalistic churches. And as a new college student, hearing this message on submission that suggested wives simply nod and silently agree to their husband’s decisions—no matter how unwise or ill advised—I knew I’d listened for the last time.
My pastor warned me I’d leave the independent fundamental churches of my childhood when I chose to attend a “liberal” Christian college. But changing congregations wasn’t the only “backsliding” he foresaw. He feared if I were to begin thinking for myself—especially about Scripture—I’d abandon the entire list of extra-biblical rules these churches enforced.
Although fiercely independent of any higher denomination’s authority, my childhood churches expected their congregants’ complete submission. They dictated what to wear (I endured countless kids’ jeers for sporting awkward, baggy culottes in place of forbidden pants), where to go (I entered a movie theater for the first time when I was 21), what to listen to (I attended more than one church conference denouncing the evils of “Contemporary Christian Music” or any other melody with a rock beat), what Bible version to read (I felt a pang of guilt any time I opened a translation other than the King James), what to watch (I enjoyed a television in my home for the first time in college), what ministries to pursue (I could never aspire to pastor or deacon or any teacher of men in the congregation), what to eat (I’ve yet to overcome the stigma of drinking to take my first sip of alcohol), whom to marry (I cried through two conferences that demanded a pledge to forgo dating and instead submit to parent-controlled courtship), even what college to attend (I always thought I’d have to follow the rest of the church’s young people to one of three approved schools where dress codes were enforced, inter-gender interactions were severely restricted, off-campus excursions were carefully monitored, and classes were conservatively biased).
And I planned to make one of those campuses my home—until I began the application process, signing statements of faith, agreeing to codes of conduct. Reading lists of rules and giving my word on paper were quite different from listening to Sunday sermons and passively obeying. Suddenly I realized choosing to attend a particular school meant daily deciding to live under its authority. And that choice would require my time, my prayer, and, above all, my mind.
I didn’t want to submit to an organization that asked me to forgo independent thinking. Instead, I needed to search the Scriptures before following one pastor’s standards on women’s dress. Read historians’ and archeologists’ findings before embracing an exclusive Bible version. Review theologians’ interpretations of passages before espousing a complementarian or egalitarian structure in marriage. Seek direction from God before taking college choice advice solely from my pastor.
I know pastors are mature, educated leaders, the ones responsible before God for my soul (Hebrews 13:7), biblically named “shepherds” (1 Peter 5:2). And I, therefore, as a member of their flock (Acts 20:28), bear comparison to an animal, a sheep (John 10:14). But I’m to be a trained sheep, proficient in recognizing my Master’s voice. And in order to learn his cadences and inflections—as well as echoes of them in earthly shepherds’ calls—I’m responsible for spending time with the Shepherd. I must listen to, meditate upon, and memorize his Words so I can distinguish them from the cries of any thief or robber seeking to lead me astray (John 10:4-5; Acts 17:11; 1 John 4:1).
I learned to recognize the robber’s voice when I joined in chapel gatherings at the Christian college I chose, and I caught myself doubting God could hear my worship through a chorus accompanied by a drum. Now, years removed from the fundamentalism of my childhood, I notice the false cries when I’m about to share in Communion at the far-from-legalistic church I attend, and I find myself wondering if I’d be sinning to partake wearing the slacks I sport to service each Sunday morning. And lately, I discern the thief’s voice when I hope for a marriage of equality, and I notice myself worrying God will refuse me the gift of a husband because I won’t smile and nod and listen to him dumbly while he makes a questionable decision.
Instead, I’ll be listening for echoes of the Lord’s wisdom and love speaking through earthly leaders and companions. And I hope when I hear those, I’ll gladly submit, as an obedient animal to its Master’s call." - taken from the newsletter "Today's Christian Woman"