women of the Bible (8) the Shunnamite woman: emptied to be filled

I'm sure you’ve met her. She's polite, poised and polished. She talks in correct and considered sentences, but rarely about herself; certainly never about anything intimate. You won't see her at a loss. You can (barely!) imagine her in tears, but only when no-one's looking. If she has worries or grief, they are well hidden. Her house is immaculate, her job responsible, her hospitality faultless. She's strong, capable, and generous.

I'm sure you know him. He's a powerful preacher. His books are bought and his sermons downloaded all over the globe. Hundreds of thousands read his blog, follow him on Twitter, and like him on Facebook. He's godly, persuasive, and charming. If he's evangelical, he's a powerful preacher; if he's charismatic, he's a prophet and miracle-worker.

When I read the story of the Shunnamite woman in 2 Kgs 4, it's people like this that I see.

There she is: a wealthy benefactor. She provides food for God’s prophet Elisha and builds him a room of his own. When he wants to reward her, she refuses. She proclaims her independence: “I dwell among my own people” (2 Kgs 4:13). When he offers the one thing she lacks—a child—she recoils, afraid of disappointment and grief (2 Kings 4:16, 28). Other barren women may plead with God, or give way to bitterness (1 Sam 1, Gen 18:10-15); she stays remote, untouchable, holding her familiar sorrow close. She's the giver, not the one given to.

There he is: a powerful prophet. He proclaims God's words. He wields God's power. At his passing, oil jars fill themselves, poisoned pots become pure, and a few loaves feed one hundred men (2 Kgs 4). When the Shunnamite woman refuses his gift of a son, he grants her one anyway. He's the giver, and he won't be denied.

In a crisis, she keeps her head. Things turn out just as she feared: her son dies in her arms. Even then, she doesn't lose her tight control. She carries her son's body upstairs, lays it on the prophet's bed, and asks a servant to fetch her a donkey. When her husband asks what's wrong, she says, “All is well”. When the prophet’s servant asks what’s wrong, she says, “All is well”. Only when she reaches Elisha does she fall on her face and pour out her bitter grief: “Did I ask my lord for a son? Did I not say, 'Do not deceive me?” (2 Kgs 4:23, 26, 28).

Driven to her knees, she cries out; no longer a patron, she's a petitioner.

In a crisis, Elisha knows what to do. He recognises her distress, and moves into action: he sends his staff with his servant, telling him to run and lay it on the boy's face. Only the woman's insistence drives Elisha to the boy’s side (2 Kgs 4:30). On the way, the servant returns to tell them that Elisha's prescription hasn't worked. The child is still dead.

Driven to his knees, Elisha prays—the only time he's said to do so in this chapter of miracles.

And God answers. He responds to the mother's cry and the prophet's prayer. As Elisha lays himself out on the cold body, God breathes warm life back into the boy, and restores him to his mother. Not Elisha, not the Shunnamite woman, but God, alone, is exalted (Isa 42:8).

Irresistibly, inexorably, God drives us to our knees, but he humbles only to raise up. He won't let us hide forever behind our careful defences. He tunnels under our walls and breaks down our strong towers. He strips us of our disguises and pursues us down every escape route. He erodes our pride and undermines our self-sufficiency, so that we will, finally, come empty-handed to be filled by him.


This post first appeared yesterday at Sola Panel.

first image is by melisdramatic at flickr

women of the Bible (6) Abigail: when wisdom marries folly

If there's ever been a mismatch, it was the union of Nabal and Abigail (1 Samuel 25). You can almost see the announcement: “Stupid, stubborn, surly skinflint marries brainy, brave, benevolent beauty”. It's as if the characters of Folly and Wisdom stepped out of the pages of Proverbs and got hitched. Those TV advertisements with the clever wife rolling her eyes over her bumbling husband have nothing on this!

What can we learn from their ill-fated union? How can I be Wisdom rather than Folly? And what do I do if I'm Wisdom married to Folly?

Let's start with the Fool. His name, ‘Nabal’, means fool. In case we miss the point, we're told (by his wife, no less!) “as his name is, so is he. Nabal is his name, and folly is with him“ (25:25). His is an Isaiah 32:6 personality typing:

For the fool speaks folly,
and his heart is busy with iniquity,
to practice ungodliness,
to utter error concerning the LORD,
to leave the craving of the hungry unsatisfied,
and to deprive the thirsty of drink.

Nabal is the ridiculously wealthy owner of “three thousand sheep and a thousand goats” (1 Sam 25:2), yet he refuses David's request to feed his 600 hungry men, even though they protected his flocks in the wilderness and it's a time of feasting. Oblivious to the fact that David's band of far-from-merry men are about to kill him, he stuffs his face with a “a feast in his house, like the feast of a king”, his heart “merry within him, for he was very drunk” (25:36). All the threads of evil in 1 Samuel merge in Nabal: he is ‘worthless’ like the sons of Eli (2:12), arrogant like the rich in Hannah's song (2:3-8), and power-hungry like King Saul. He's doomed.

What about Wisdom? She matches her actions to the demands of the moment. When her servants tell her David's men are coming to murder the men of her household, Abigail loads some donkeys with a small snack from her pantry—“two hundred loaves and two skins of wine and five sheep … and five seahs of parched grain and a hundred clusters of raisins and two hundred cakes of figs”—saddles up her donkey, and gallops off (can you gallop on a donkey?). There's a tense moment as she rides into a ravine and finds hundreds of armed, angry men descending it. Leaping off her donkey, casting herself at David's feet, she begs him not to bring blood-guilt on himself by taking revenge on her fool of a husband. Wisdom receives its reward when she wins David's heart.

Folly and Wisdom indeed. But it's not just qualities like godlessness and generosity that set Nabal and Abigail apart; ultimately, it's their attitude to David. Nabal doesn't just feast like Saul, he thinks like Saul:

Who is David? Who is the son of Jesse? There are many servants these days who are breaking away from their masters. Shall I take my bread and my water and my meat that I have killed for my shearers and give it to men who come from I do not know where? (25:10-11 cf 17:55, 22:7-8)

Nabal sees David as a nobody, a rebellious servant, and pretends to have never heard of him, although all Israel knows his name (18:16, 30). But Abigail sees beyond the desert wanderer to God's anointed, victorious king:

For the LORD will certainly make my lord a sure house, because my lord is fighting the battles of the LORD … And when the LORD has done to my lord according to all the good that he has spoken concerning you and has appointed you prince over Israel … then remember your servant. (25:28-31)

It's a statement of astounding faith. Besides Samuel, only two insignificant women discern the truth about David. Hannah was the first to speak of God's coming king (2:10); Abigail, the first to predict his ‘lasting dynasty’ (25:28 NIV). No-one else would foresee this until Nathan prophesied of King David that God would “establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2 Sam 7:13)—a promise fulfilled in Jesus Christ.

What about us? What do we do if, like Abigail, we are Wisdom married to Folly? For wives, there's a time when submission to our husband must be laid aside:* when it conflicts with our greater submission to God's anointed king (Eph 5:22-33). A husband who's violent to children, who encourages us to lie or cheat, who doesn't pray much (so why should we?)—above all, a husband who rejects Jesus—there are times when we need the courage and wisdom of Abigail, to protect our children, to disobey when this means not sinning, to stay faithful but take a different path (1 Peter 3:1-7): to choose wisdom, not folly.

Which will we choose? Will we choose stupidity or shrewdness, cowardice or courage, greed or goodness? More importantly, what attitude will we have to God's chosen king? Folly sees God's anointed as a nobody, to be mocked, ignored and mistreated. Wisdom perceives in God's anointed, the humble and crucified Christ, the very power and wisdom of God:

Where is the one who is wise? … Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. (1 Cor 1:20-25 cf Ps 2, Col 2:2-3).

This is wisdom: to see in Jesus the hidden wisdom and knowledge of God (Col 2:2-3).

* What exactly do I mean by this? I discuss it with Claire Smith in the comments at Sola Panel.

This article first appeared in Sola Panel yesterday.

images are from journal of Shalom; Salim Photography; unknown; and kissabug at flickr

women of the Bible (5) Hannah and the God of the nobody

Hannah is a nobody, the insignificant wife of an insignificant member of an insignificant tribe. Compared to Eve, mother of all living; Sarah, mother of God's people; or Deborah, judge of Israel—who is she? Just a barren women loved by her husband but jeered at by a younger, fruitful wife (1 Sam 1:1-8).

Hannah is a nobody, a humble woman who pours out her private grief to God so fervently that high priest Eli thinks she's drunk. She prays not for show, but silently, out of her anguish and bitterness of soul (1 Sam 1:10-16). She begs God to ‘look’ and ‘remember’ her sorrow using words that are much too big for her, words that recall what he's done for the nation Israel (1 Sam 1:11 cf. Exod 2:24-25, 3:7-8; Deut 26:7-8).

Hannah is a nobody, but she's faithful in a time when even the high priest's family has fallen into wickedness (1 Sam 2:12-17). She keeps her promise—if God will only ‘give’ her a son, she will ‘give’ him back to God (1 Sam 1:11)—when she hands Samuel over to live and serve in the temple although he's only a toddler. Every year she's reminded of her sacrifice as she sews a robe, a little bigger than the last, and takes it to her son (1 Sam 1:21-28, 2:18-20).

Hannah is a nobody, but her small story is caught up in a bigger story. At the end of the book of Judges, all is chaos and disorder, for “there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Jud 21:25). The birth of Samuel changes all that. The last and greatest judge, Samuel calls Israel to turn from idols back to God, and oversees the anointing of Saul, the first king of Israel, and of David, Israel's greatest king.

Hannah is a nobody, and that's the point. At first reading, her song of thanksgiving for God's gift of a son seems a little over-the-top:

My heart exults in the LORD … My mouth derides my enemies … The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble bind on strength … The LORD … brings low and he exalts … he will give strength to his king and exalt the power of his anointed. (1 Sam 2:1-10)

Look closer, and it's clear that this is not just Hannah's song. It's the song of a God who rescues his people, who humbles the proud and exalts the humble, men and women like Hannah. It's a song for a son who will be used by God to help bring about his saving plan. Most remarkably, in a time when Israel has no king, it's a song which prophesies the coming of God's ‘anointed’, his ‘messiah’, his king.

Hannah is a nobody, like another nobody who echoes Hannah's song of thanksgiving for the gift of a son:

My soul magnifies the Lord … for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant … He has scattered the proud … and exalted those of humble estate … He has helped his servant Israel. (Luke 1:46-55)

Mary, mother of Jesus, is also the insignificant wife of an insignificant member of an insignificant tribe. Like Hannah, she sings of the God who humbles the proud and exalts the humble. She too is given a son she will give back to God at great personal sacrifice (Luke 2:35), a son who will grow up to fulfil God's saving plan and rescue God's people. Indeed, the story has come full circle, for Mary's son is the very one promised in Hannah's song: Jesus, great David's greater son, God's anointed, his messiah-king.

Hannah is a nobody, and so are we. Like Hannah, we have nothing to bring to God but our need. It's not the proudly self-sufficient but the broken and contrite in heart, those who realize they are nobody, who receive God's gift of salvation won through the death and resurrection of Jesus (Ps 51:17; Matt 5:1-12; Luke 18:9-14; 1 Cor 1:18-31). The gospel shows that God's character hasn't changed: he is still the one who humbles the proud and exalts the humble, the God of the nobody.

This post first appeared on Sola Panel yesterday.

women of the Bible (4) Deborah: mother in Israel

Deborah, judge of Israel, is a poster-girl for egalitarianism (see Judges 4-5). She's undoubtedly female, and she's a leader of God's people: a judge who delivers God's rulings, and a prophetess who speaks God's words. Like the other judges, she's used by God to deliver his people when they turn from their idolatry and cry to him for rescue from their enemies. Her husband is virtually absent from her story and, if she had any children, they aren't mentioned. If the New Testament seems to say that women shouldn't teach or have authority in the church, surely Deborah shows that these restrictions are cultural and can be laid aside in our more enlightened society!

It's not that simple. In many ways, Deborah is a reluctant leader. The fact that she's leading Israel seems to be a sign of judgement, an indictment on the men of Israel for failing to take the lead (Isa 3:12). At every point, she honours and supports male leadership; her word from God to Barak is that God has called him to lead the army, and she only reluctantly accompanies him into battle (Judg 4:6-9). The glory for the victory goes to another woman —the treacherous Jael—but this, too, is a judgement on Barak for his unwillingness to lead (Judge 4:9, 17-23). Deborah's example is not so much an encouragement to women to take the lead, but rather a rebuke to men who fail to lead spiritually.

Deborah works in an unusual role in a womanly way. She leads Israel to victory as a woman: she alone, of all the judges, doesn't command the army, but asks Barak to do so (Judg 4:6-7, 10, 14 cf 3:10, 27-29). She prophesies as a woman: while male prophets proclaim God's word publicly, she gives God's word to Barak in private; and while her song of victory is public, it's sung with Barak, not alone (Judg 5:1, Exod 15:1, 20-21 cf 2 Sam 22:1). She judges as a woman: people come to her privately to have their cases decided and to hear the word of God (Judg 4:4-6 cf 2 Kgs 22:14-15). Hers is the charismatic role of a judge, not the settled role of a priest or a king: these ruling and teaching roles are reserved for men (Lev 10:10-11, 1 Sam 8:6, 11-18, 1 Tim 2:12, Tit 1:5-7, 2:3-5).

It's Deborah who gives us the key to understanding her role: she is a mother in Israel (Judg 5:7). You can hear a mother's grief in her sorrow over the suffering of her people (Judg 5:6-8). You can hear a mother's exasperation in her rebuke of the southern tribes who sat by their fires and watched their sheep while their brothers went to war (Judg 5:15-17). You can hear a mother's pride in her praise of the warriors and princes who fought (Judg 5:13-14, 18). You can hear a mother's vehement defence of her children in her blood-thirsty celebration of victory (Judg 5:24-31).

Deborah is no retiring female wimp: she's bravely and strongly committed to God's glory when others have abandoned him; but she never seeks glory for herself (Judg 4:6-15, 23, 5:2-3, 31). I think of female missionaries who teach God's word because there is no-one else to do the job, but who train up men to take their place as leaders and teachers in the church. I think of women married to non-Christian men or lazy Christian men, who take the lead in teaching their children about God, but who pray and long for their husbands to take responsibility for spiritual leadership in the home.

Deborah should make us ask ourselves: do we have a mother's heart for God's people? Do we encourage our Christian brothers and teach our younger Christian sisters? Do we grieve when Christians wander into error and disobedience? Do we rejoice when we see God's people sticking up for the truth, or are we embarrassed and ashamed? Do we get angry when we see Jesus' name dragged through the mud by the adultery and apostasy of Christian leaders? Are we willing to defend God's character and the lives of the innocent, even when everyone around us stays silent?

Let's be women like Deborah: brave, passionate, loving, humble, and fiercely committed to God's people and God's glory.

This article appeared in Sola Panel today.

for tapestry of Deborah and Barak, see Ethiopia Judaica Tapestries

women of the Bible (3) Rahab - a remarkable woman

I met a remarkable woman the other day. To be honest, she's not the kind of woman I normally feel comfortable with. She's had an immoral past, a pagan background, and a life of change and crisis. She's brave, shrewd and outspoken. I might as well come out and say it: she was once a prostitute. But I reckon she knows more about God than any number of women from safe Christian backgrounds (like me).

Her name is Rahab. You might have heard her story—how she opened her doors to two Jewish spies (try explaining that choice of accommodation to your mum!), and hid them when the king's men came to call. The spies saved her life because she saved theirs: when Jericho fell to the Israelites, she and her family huddled safe inside her house, protected by the sign of the scarlet cord hanging from her window (Josh 2, 6).

It's a story worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster. But until you've spent a couple of weeks in Rahab's company (the way I did, because I wanted to introduce her to our women's Bible study), you have no idea how impressive she really is.

Her fear of God outshines us all. God's people saw him divide the Red Sea, destroy Pharaoh's armies, bring water from the rock and rain food from the sky. But when they got to the borders of Canaan, they shook in their shoes because of a few overly large soldiers! Rahab had only heard rumours of Israel's victories, but every other fear—fear for her family, fear of a gruesome death if her treachery was discovered—was insignificant compared to her fear of God. Here's what she told the spies:

“I know that the Lord has given you the land, and that the fear of you has fallen upon us, and that all the inhabitants of the land melt away before you. For we have heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea before you when you came out of Egypt, and what you did to the two kings of the Amorites who were beyond the Jordan, to Sihon and Og, whom you devoted to destruction. And as soon as we heard it, our hearts melted, and there was no spirit left in any man because of you, for the Lord your God, he is God in the heavens above and on the earth beneath.” (Josh 2:9-11)

Amazing, isn't it? And here's me not telling my friends about Jesus because I'm more scared of offending them than of displeasing God (Luke 12:4-7)! I could do with a dose of Rahab's kind of fear.

If that was all, it would do neither her nor me much good: she'd be dead, buried under the rubble of Jericho. But she not only feared God like there was no tomorrow, she had greater faith in God than anyone else I've met. She didn't just cower behind those walls; when she got the chance, she reached with both hands and threw herself on God's mercy! No wonder she's become a byword for faith: our Bible teacher James (who is always one for vivid illustrations) used her as an example of true faith—a faith that doesn't just believe, but also acts (Jas 2:17, 25). I could do with more of that kind of faith—particularly when I say I believe but don't want to give up my comforts!

Another of our Bible teachers once gave us a great list of men and women of faith (actually, I'll be honest, they were mainly men), and yes, you guessed it: it included Rahab the prostitute alongside all of those mighty men, heroes, patriarchs and kings (Heb 11). If faith is being “sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Heb 11:1 NIV), then Rahab has got it in spades. This woman never saw God's salvation in Jesus, but she knew exactly where to seek mercy. She's an inspiration to me—a reason to persevere through the weary days as I keep my eyes fixed on the saviour I've never seen.

You should hear her testimony! You won't find a clearer picture of the gospel. We often think of fear and faith as opposites, but Rahab shows us how the gospel brings them together. She escaped God's judgement by throwing herself on God's mercy, hiding in her house as destruction came to all around her, just as we hide in Christ to escape God's anger. It's fear of God's judgement that drives us to faith in God's salvation. We don't lose this fear of God when we trust in him: fear of God is itself an expression of faith.*

One final thing: did you know that Rahab was one of Jesus' great-great-grandmothers? Brother Matthew shared the genealogy of Jesus with us, and there she was, along with Tamar, Ruth and Bathsheba—an unprepossessing bunch of women (Matt 1:1-16)! I guess it shows that God has little interest in using the self-satisfied do-gooders of this world (that is, I have to admit, somewhat uncomfortably, women like me) and more interest in using the downtrodden, dirty sinners who throw themselves on his mercy (that is, women I tend to scorn. But not any more, I hope! 1 Corinthians 1:27-29).

Fear of God: a fear so great that it defeats any fear of man. Faith in God: faith that trusts in the unseen and obeys. The gospel: fleeing from God's anger into the arms of his love. Rahab represents all these things to me. I can imagine Jesus saying of her, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith" (Luke 7:9b). I only hope and pray that God will give me a tenth of her faith.

* Christian fear is the fear of a son for a father, not a slave for a harsh master (Rom 8:15). Tim Chester says rightly that “To fear God is to respect, worship, trust, and submit to him” (You Can Change, InterVarsity Press, Leicester, 2008, pp. 92-93). I would add the word ‘love’. Honoria Lau borrows from Hebrews 12:25 to define the fear of God helpfully as “not daring to refuse him”. See also Deuteronomy 10:12-13; Exodus 14:31; Psalm 2:11, 115:11, 130:4; Acts 9:31; 2 Corinthians 7:1; Peter Hastie's interview with Jerry Bridges; and my posts on the fear of God.

This post first appeared on Sola Panel last Friday.

final image is from Christian Dare Art

women of the Bible (2) Sarah - girl crushes and a petulant princess

Have you ever had a ‘girl crush’? You know, that admiring, platonic devotion women sometimes feel for other women. (The male version is, of course, the ‘boy crush’—most often expressed in adulation for preachers and thinkers like Don ‘The Don’ Carson or John Piper.) Perhaps you adore Elisabeth Elliot, that beloved missionary. Perhaps you revere Susannah Wesley—she of the apron and the many children. Perhaps you idolize one of those regal, older women—someone you know who radiates calmness, wisdom and humility.

Sarah, wife of Abraham, seems like an ideal candidate for a girl crush. Her very name means ‘princess’. Her beauty was legendary (Gen 12:11). Many women (I'm one of them!) have been inspired by the Bible's call to imitate her persevering faith and trusting submission (Heb 11:8-12, 1 Pet 3:1-7).

So when my Bible study group came to Sarah's story, I think we were all expecting something pretty special. But we were unimpressed.

Sarah is conniving, bossy and mean. She laughs sceptically at God's promises (Gen 18:10-15). Hoping to get a son through her maidservant Hagar, she leads her husband into polygamy, then blames him and treats Hagar with cruelty (Gen 16:1-6, 21:8-20). She's like a spoiled prima donna, throwing tantrums when things don't go her way.

You can understand her bitterness: she was 65 when she left a secure life in cosmopolitan Ur to became a nomad in answer to God's call to her husband (Gen 12:4-5). She was barren in an age when childlessness meant not just grief, but disgrace and destitution (Gen 16:1-2, 17:17, 18:12). The future of her family—the future of a promised nation—depended on her womb's fruitfulness. No wonder her faith wavered at times.

There are a few glimpses of light: she followed her husband faithfully on his wanderings; she submitted willingly to Abraham even when his doubtful leadership left her at the mercy of powerful princes (twice!—Gen 12:10-20, 20:1-17). When Isaac was born, her mocking laughter turned to joyous faith: “God has made laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh over me” (Gen 21:6).

The humbler members of our group were glad to find in Sarah a sinner just like us. The perfectionists like me were disappointed by her imperfections. But in the end, we were all encouraged by the story of this wayward heroine, for Sarah's faults shine the spotlight away from herself and onto God—

• God, who brings about his purposes through sinners like us
• God, whose timing is perfect, even when it feels like our hopes will never be realized (Gen 17:17-22)
• God, who is unchanging and faithful through all our doubts and petulant disobedience
• God, who is gracious and compassionate to the destitute (Gen 16:1-16 21:8-21)
• God, whose own joy shines through the naming of Isaac, which means ‘laughter’ (Gen 17:19, 21:6-7)
• God, who prizes even our faltering faith and obedience (Heb 11:8-12, 1 Pet 3:1-7)
• God, who uses weak, sinful humans like Sarah to show that he is the hero of his own story.

I drove home from our study minus a girl crush, but with the addition of a heart singing praise to the God who was faithful to Sarah and who will be faithful to me. In the end, Sarah's story is not really about a woman at all; it's a story about God—his goodness, faithfulness and grace to people just like us.

This post first appeared in Sola Panel late last week.

first image is by artist Marc Chagall

women of the Bible (1c) Eve and motherhood

It's time for some free association. I'll give you a word. Close your eyes and tell me what springs to mind. Ready?

Motherhood.

What did you come up with? Kids? Caring? Apple pie? I'm pretty sure none of you came up with the word ‘salvation’! But in the Bible, motherhood and salvation go hand in hand.

Our women's Bible study group has been reading Genesis 1-3 from a woman's point of view—from Eve's point of view, to be exact. It's a fascinating exercise! You wouldn't usually want to read the Bible through the lens of a particular topic, but when you do, it's a bit like looking through the wrong end of a telescope: you pick up all kinds of details you wouldn't normally notice.

There's not much about motherhood in the first half of the creation account in Genesis 2:1-3:12. But as you read on, suddenly motherhood is everywhere:

• Who will crush the serpent? The woman's offspring (Gen 3:14-15).
• What's the woman's curse all about? Marriage (which will now bring conflict for power) and motherhood (which will now bring pain) (Gen 3:16).
• What's the first sign of hope? Adam's beautiful words, which seem to heal the rift with Eve and express his delight over their promised children: “The man called his wife's name Eve, because she was the mother of all living” (Gen 3:20).
• What's the first fruit of their union? “Now Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, ‘I have gotten a man with the help of the Lord’” (Gen 4:1).
• How does the ‘godly line’ begin? With Seth: “God has appointed for me another offspring instead of Abel” (Gen 4:25b), and then with a line of sons down to Noah: “Out of the ground that the Lord has cursed this one shall bring us relief from our work and from the painful toil of our hands” (Gen 5:28-29).
• What's the purpose of the ‘godly line’? It continues all the way down the generations to Jesus, the serpent-crusher (Luke 3:23-38, Heb 2:14, Rom 16:20).

Motherhood goes with salvation like the proverbial apple pie. I'll never have the privilege of being one of the rollcall of women (Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, Mary) in the godly line that led to the birth of Jesus (Matt 1:1-17). But motherhood and salvation are still linked in the mind of God:

• One of the purposes of faithful marriage is to raise ‘godly offspring’ (Mal 2:15).
• The Bible praises mothers like Lois and Eunice who passed their faith onto their grandson and son Timothy (2 Tim 1:5, 3:14-15, 1 Tim 5:9-10).
• Paul speaks of women being “saved through childbearing” (1 Tim 2:11-15). I think he's talking about the opportunity many women have to work out their salvation as they serve Christ in the sphere of marriage and motherhood (Phil 2:12-13). There's no need to hanker after more public teaching ministries! Right now, in this home with this family, as I help my husband and raise our children to be ‘godly offspring’, I am doing God's work and furthering his kingdom.

So I've been praying a new prayer—that, like in the ‘godly line’, my faith will be passed on to our children, to our children's children, and to our children's children's children—down the generations until Christ returns. More importantly, I've been asking God to help me raise children who will share God's gift of salvation so that others can become part of his family.

It's because in God's economy, motherhood and salvation go hand in hand.

This post appeared last Friday at Sola Panel.

first two images are by InspirationDC and naturemandala at flickr; last image is from stock.xchng

women of the Bible (1b) Eve - temptation and the garden

All our temptations are garden temptations.

I don't usually talk much about gardening when I lead Bible studies, but recently during our study on Genesis 3, I asked, “What does the Garden of Eden show us about God?”

The answer? God is abundantly generous. He didn't give Adam and Eve a dry loaf and a cup of water; he gave them a beautiful garden brimming with varied, wonderful fruitful plants to eat and enjoy (Gen 2:9).

And what was God's word to the people he'd made? “Eat! Eat freely from every tree in the garden!”* There was only one tree they weren't to eat from, and that was “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Gen 2:16-17). In other words, the only thing they weren't to do was to rip God's authority away from him, and decide good and evil for themselves.

But that's not the way Eve saw it.

“Did God really say ...?”, said the serpent. You can hear the unstated question: “What was God thinking?! Why is he withholding this good thing from you?” (Gen 3:1).

What's Eve's answer? “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die’” (Gen 3:2-3**). She changes God's generous “We are free to eat fruit from any tree”, to the grudging “We may eat fruit from the trees”. She changes God's protective command—“You must not eat”—to the restrictive: “You must not touch”. And as for “you will die”, “No you won't”, whispers the serpent's lie (Gen 3:4-5).

God gives us good things, but we want the one thing he hasn't given us. God gives us guidelines, but we fence them around with legalistic restrictions. God warns us, but we repress his warnings. God is lavishly generous, but we see him as grudging.

Driving home from the Bible study, it occurred to me that I imitate my mother Eve every time I sin. God gives me so many good things. But I can't see his generosity. All I can see is the thing he hasn't given me.

He gives me the precious ministry of teaching and training our children; I want the glory of a more public, recognized ministry! He gives me food and possessions; I want more than is good for me—more than we can afford! He gives me a secure home and a loving family; I want a husband who treats me like that woman's husband, children who act more like that woman's children and a beautiful house like that woman's house!

In the back of my mind, God is a grudging tyrant who is trying to keep good things from me. The result is foolish idolatry, unwise decisions and grumpy service. The result is discontent, envy, despondency, anger, anxiety and fear. The result is broken relationships and shame.

God is no grudging tyrant; God is abundantly generous. God isn't trying to keep good things from me. In all that happens, God wants only my good (Rom 8:28-30). God isn't trying to restrict my happiness; God's ways are good ways.

Next time I'm tempted, Lord, help me to see things the way they really are!

* The NIV says “freely”; the ESV says “surely”. In the original, it's the emphatically generous “eating you do eat”.

** Gordon Wenham observes that Eve changes God's words—“You may freely eat of every garden tree”—to the less generous “We may eat of the fruit ...” (Word Biblical Commentary, Vol. 1: Genesis 1-15, Thomas Nelson, Nashville, 1987, p. 73).

This article first appeared in Sola Panel.

images are from claudmay and Mysserli at flickr, and stock.xchng

women of the Bible (1a) Eve - a suitable helper

In our Bible study we're doing a series from The Good Book Company called Women of Faith about women in the Old Testament. I'm learning so much that every week I'm inspired to come home and writing a blog post! Here's what I wrote about Eve after our very first study.

You might like to read Genesis 1-2 before you read this post. Grab a piece of paper and note down some answers to the question, "What do the first two chapters of Genesis teach us about women?" You might like to tell us what you discover.

My women's small group had a great Bible study the other day. We're doing a series called Women of Faith, about women in the Old Testament, and we started in the obvious place: with Eve.

We asked the question, "What does Genesis 1-2 teach us about women?"*

The main thing that stood out for us was that Eve was made to be Adam's suitable helper as he worked in the garden. Marriage isn't primarily about intimacy, but about partnership in God's work.

I know I'm made to be a helper, but I'd forgotten that God specifically calls me to help my husband in his work. I was reminded of this recently when I listened to a fantastic set of talks by Phillip Jensen and Carmelina Read called Marriage Matters (from EQUIP Ministry Wives 2008).

My husband Steve and I used to work side-by-side in university ministry. But like many mothers, as I've become absorbed in raising our children, my focus has diverged from my husband's. I forget that God calls me to help Steve in his work, which for us means his ministry. I’ve realised that I need to get my head out of my own separate ministry plans and into a future where we work together in God's kingdom.

It will look different for you. The nature of my "help" is influenced by many things, such as

• the kind of work my husband does
• our ministry gifts
• the needs of our church and community
• the season of life we're in
• my husband's personality and preferences.

So, for one woman in my small group, "helping" means being open to her husband's suggestion to do more hospitality, even though she's an introvert. It's the opposite for me. While we regularly have meetings and visitors in our home, mostly Steve is tired after ministering to people all day and needs a place of quiet retreat. My friend’s husband, on the other hand, gets home and wants to talk everything through with his wife.

Lots of us mentioned that we tend to become so absorbed in our own need for our husbands' help, that we forget all about helping them!

I gave my group some homework: to go home and ask their husbands for one way they could help them better, especially in their work. If you're married, you might like to ask your husband the same question!

* We came up with a long list. Women, like men, are made in God's image: we're equal but different (Gen 1:26-28). Male headship is shown in lots of ways: for example, the term "man" is used for both men and women (Gen 1:27), Eve is made from and for Adam (Gen 2:20-22), Adam names Eve (Gen 2:23), and God approaches Adam first and calls him to account for "listening" to his wife and eating the fruit (Gen 3:9-11, 17). But they are also equal: she is his perfect companion, suitable for him (Gen 2:20-25). In Genesis 3, the created order is reversed and the "helper" role undermined: an animal (the serpent) leads the woman who leads the man into sin. The woman's focus is relational (Gen 2:20-25 cf Gen 3:16). We decided it was all summed up by the words "suitable helper" (Gen 2:20).

This article will appear on in tandem, that wonderful blog for ministry wives, on Friday (all going well!) so you could say that it appears here by permission. :)

image is from Lawrence OP at flickr