I really enjoy being nice to people.

Initiating friendly small talk with my grocery store cashier or graciously showing patience to my over-worked waitress all bring me happiness. There’s something about sharing a laugh with a stranger or bringing a smile to a person’s face that is nearly exhilarating. I love it. I walk away with an extra skip in my step and a part of me thinks, “I love being a Christian!”

In my mind, whenever I am kind to someone for no reason at all, whenever I extend mercy at a time when others might not, whenever I inquire about the day of the telemarketer who calls–I equate all these things with the Christian life. Christ compels us to love our neighbors and our enemies–to love EVERYONE–so the warm feeling I get from these encounters must be related to Jesus, I reason. It is the part of my heart that is conformed to his.

And perhaps that is true. Perhaps Jesus was just as friendly and happy-go-lucky with everyone he crossed. But I would be lying if I said that this mindset can’t be deceptive. Behind my joy is also a deep desire to be liked by everyone I meet. While I genuinely enjoy encouraging strangers because I do care about them, I also want people to think I’m nice and funny and kind. It builds me up inside. It makes me feel like a good person.

I know that not everyone is like me. Some people don’t care what everyone thinks about them. Others are so profoundly introverted that it is difficult to engage in the smallest exchanges with strangers. But I am quite sure there are other Christians like me, and there’s a part of me that wonders if my personality type gravitates toward the church. After all, the church affirms my natural inclinations. When I treat people the way I would treat people anyway (Christian or not) I can call that behavior Christian. I can credit spiritual fruit to myself even when there is no actual spiritual growth.

In his book Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis wrote of this problem. He warned of the “fatal mistake”  of believing that Christianity demands niceness alone. He believed that “a certain level of good conduct comes fairly easily” to some people, and he attributed this to what he called “natural causes.” Lewis therefore concluded that God does not look at an individual’s nice or nasty temperament the way we do. We might see an ornery Christian and call her a hypocrite, whereas a kind and gentle Christian incites our praise. What we fail to consider is where each person started. Who were they before they knew Christ? If they were just as nice and friendly prior to salvation as they were following, then their sanctification will look different than that of the temperamental Christian.

While the grumpy Christian may seem to be in greater need of grace, Lewis warned that nice Christians are in greater peril. Where there is no perceived need, we depend less on God. If niceness comes naturally to us, and niceness is the goal, then we are less desperate for God.

That is a great danger. Given that people-pleasing is a form of idolatry, it can be easily hidden within the realm of the Christian community. It can be passed off as Christ-likeness when it is, in fact, sin. That is not to say that being kind to others is wrong, but that we must scrutinize our motives. On this front, Jesus offered some helpful words in Luke 6:

“If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. (v. 32-36)

Even in loving my enemies there is a temptation to people-please because I cannot stand the thought of someone disliking me. Yet admitting that temptation is the first step toward loving my neighbors and enemies for the right reason: by the grace of God for the glory of God.

At the heart of people-pleasing and a Christianity measured by niceness is a works righteousness that is antithetical to the gospel. The ultimate cure for this tendency is total dependence on God. Those for whom friendliness is harder are more likely to depend on God in this area; the rest of us are less so. That’s why it is crucial to remember the final aim of the Christian life is not niceness but complete and total transformation, as Lewis wrote,

“God became man to turn creatures into sons; not simply to produce better men of the old kind but to produce a new kind of man.”

That is a work that God alone is capable of achieving.

Well it’s 7am and I’m sitting in the San Francisco airport waiting to board a plane. My mind is brimming with all the insights and challenges from the past few days at the SBL Conference. God taught me a lot!

One of the best sessions that I attended was on the topic of Womanist Theology. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this term, it refers to a strand of theology that represents  the perspectives of African American women. It developed in response to the predominantly white feminist theology and the predominantly male black theology. In the session I attended, women of color shared stories of grappling with race and identity in a broken world, as well as insights on how these struggles intersect with faith.

The stories were moving, to say the least. At an academic conference where papers are typically read behind a podium, these women preached. It was the only session that brought me to tears because I was so gripped and inspired. As I sat there listening to their perspectives, I was both educated,  humbled, and broken.

The session that morning was the culmination of a lesson that God has been teaching me about racism and its cousins. Namely, God has been teaching me the importance of listening. More specifically, God has been teaching me about the importance of allowing marginalized voices to be heard.

One of the causes and consequences of racism is that one, single narrative dominates. One privileged voice narrates history and the experience of humanity from its own particular perspective. As a result, we are less likely to hear other perspectives, and we are therefore less likely to understand them. When one narrative is dominant, other cares and concerns are frequently silenced. They become all but invisible.

As our country continues to understand racism and the church repents of its sin, there is a tendency to continue dominating the narrative. There is a temptation to make the story of redemption about us, about our guilt, and about our need for forgiveness. Some of us might be able to tell stories of our own courage in the face of racism, or how we are different from the generation that preceded us, but the story continues to be about us nonetheless.

Now don’t get me wrong. Stories of repentance and personal redemption aren’t bad. In fact, they are important. But what is also important, I’m learning, is that we listen to those voices that have been silenced for so long. Rather than recall past interactions with minorities from my own perspective–whether the interaction was noble or shameful–I need to consider my sister or brother. I need to consider my neighbor’s perspective and experience. What was her story? Who was her family? What was her life like?

At the heart of racism is a terrible self-centeredness. It is an inability to see through the eyes of another. Deceptively, this mentality can persist in altruistic forms, but God is helping me to identify that pitfall. He is helping me to re-understand the words, “Be quick to listen and slow to speak.” (James 1:19) He is also teaching me a new dimension of the Incarnation of Christ. God was not content to stand afar and save us. He heard our cry. He came near to us. He became so intimately one with us that he could share in our experience, and we in his.

That willingness to step out of one’s comfort and come near to the stranger, to hear her and love her and be near to her, is a Christ-like impulse. It is a discipline that we as Christians must continue to embrace if we hope to overcome racism, sexism, and other forms of hate. And it begins with the second greatest commandment: to love your neighbor. I can love my neighbor best when I know how she needs to be loved. And I will know how she needs to be loved when I take the time to listen.

One of the issues Ike and I have struggled with ever since we’ve been together is the question of cross-gender friendships. By “struggle” I don’t mean that we’ve wrestled with jealousy or inappropriate intimacy with someone of the opposite sex. Instead, we’ve struggled with how to articulate cross-gender friendship in a manner that is both wise, honoring to God, honoring to one another, AND honoring to our friends.

While we can both affirm that certain levels of physical and emotional intimacy between cross-gender friends are both foolish and dishonorable (let me be VERY clear about that) we are also averse to the language of fear that permeates these discussions. We have long sought after an understanding of friendship that more closely reflects the Scriptural language of Christian unity. Given the love that we are called to show one another, a love so radical that the rest of the world will know us by it (John 13:35), we have been increasingly uncomfortable with the position that pits genders against one another as threats. In Christ, we must be more!

With this struggle as a backdrop, I was pleased when a colleague of mine, Enuma Okoro, engaged this topic on Her.meneutics this week. Her post titled “We’re Just Friends. No, Really” detailed the supportive Christian friendship she has with a male friend, Andrew, who also has a girlfriend, Kate. The post incited a tremendous amount of debate, ranging from outright condemnation to unhealthy reinterpretations of her words, extending her points to an extreme that neither Enuma nor I can affirm.

I love Enuma’s writing and her call to reclaim self-discipline as an aspect of Christian relationships is a necessary one. But what particularly grabbed me about this discussion was the eventual comment of her friend, Andrew. Much of his response provided me with the answers I’ve been looking for on this messy issue. Here are a few of my favorite excerpts:

“I wonder how ‘friendship’ and ‘freedom’ are not limited by our own Christian calculations of human ‘nature’, but are instead expanded into something even deeper when we enter friendship in and through the life of Jesus? Maybe Jesus came to make us into something different; something new in the midst of our vulnerability and brokenness. Maybe in the risk of friendship, and for Kate and I–the risk of romantic love–we can pray that Jesus would surround us and take us up into his own body, God’s unrelenting love for us, where he casts out our fears.”

“If Jesus is the incarnate God–if Jesus really does promise us life in and with God–then Jesus is also a promise to us that we – just maybe – will become a sign to each other of God’s presence. That is the kind of heavy lifting that Jesus does for us in our relationships, I hope, before we step into each other’s lives at all.”

“Regular time alone is not part of my friendship with Enuma. This decision is not based on fear of the ‘what ifs’ – and certainly does not rest on any ‘Doctrine of Inevitability’. Even though I think Jesus does transform us–makes us free–I don’t think Jesus wants to take away our limits. I think he wants to live there with us, and show us that our limits are good. We only have so much life to give, and so my limits demand me to make priorities for how and to whom my emotions are given, where intimacy is fostered–which I think is partly why we make different commitments, different covenants with each other. I have freely committed to give my deepest commitment among all my relationships to Kate, even though I know I will fail her at times. That means, in one way, that I have to cut back on the amount of time–and the kinds of time–I can give to others. But, in another way, in the context of our mutual love and commitment, Kate and I have hoped for the ways in which our relationship will actually open us up to love others, to be friend to others, even better. Whatever gifts we receive through our relationship that transforms us into more faithful people, we hope to share them, knowing there will be times when we will need/want those gifts of friendship from others.”

“All that to say, we do believe that following Jesus does mean different kinds of covenants with different kinds of people—and at the same time we think following Jesus means Jesus is Lord over those covenants—and he is Lord over long-held ideas that can turn into tools of control that stop trusting in Jesus.”

Oh there is so much truth in there! And it is all about the power of Jesus!!! Our language about friendship is so often dictated by the “Doctrine of Inevitability” that Andrew names, rather than being guided by self-control, generosity, self-giving love, and courage. I also appreciate his articulation of cross-gender relationships as a different type of “covenant,” as opposed to a boundary determined by danger. In doing so, he holds onto the obligation that we hold toward everyone in our Christian community.

1 John 4:18 tells us that perfect love casts out fear. Now, that is not an “anything goes” kind of statement; we still live in a broken world. What this verse does communicate, however, is that sin and fear are no longer the final determination of our actions. Only Christ’s victory over sin is the ultimate determiner of our lives.

In an overly sexualized culture that consistently objectifies women, the manner in which Christian brothers and sisters love one another is an opportunity to stand out, which is why it is essential that we discard the worldly obsession with sex that has all but defined cross-gender friendships (When Harry Met Sally, anyone?). Yes, be wise–YES!–but exercise Christian wisdom. That is to say, be wise in a manner that is both cognizant of sin in the world, but is also an outworking of the radical love of Jesus Christ. Our friendships are meant to look different, and that begins with how we view, and how we love, one another.

When I was in seminary I had a professor who used to say, “People don’t get married for love, but for lust. Only later does marriage teach us what love is.”

I don’t think we should push too hard on that idea–there are all sorts of exceptions to it–but I agree with the basic premise. The early stages of a relationship are frequently the easiest. They are marked by novelty, passion, electricity, and irresistible attraction. Before we really get to know each other through the character unveiling obstacles of life, there’s a bit of a honeymoon period.

Marriage, however, is the crucible that purifies love of its selfish motives. Marriage helps widen our gaze and look beyond ourselves. It humbles and softens us. It can make us better people, more focused on others and less self-centered. It can even make us more Christ-like, which is why Catholics believe marriage is a sacrament: It is a means of grace in our lives, calling us outside of ourselves and making us holy. In this way, marriage is one tool that God uses to transform us into our intended selves.

Yet this aspect of marriage is easy to forget. Given how many women pine for a man who will “love them just the way they are,” it’s easy to believe that is the goal of marriage. From that particular perspective, marriage is ultimately about you and your own happiness, not about God or the world you live in.

Interestingly, the romantic, Prince Charming-involved conceptions of marriage are relatively modern. Although the Bible contains Song of Solomon, a beautiful and passionate love story that ends in marriage, most ancient marriages were not of the romantic variety. They were contracts, deals brokered between families that had little to do with love and more to do with financial provision.

For a different kind of Biblical love story, consider Hosea. Hosea was a prophet who God ordered to marry a prostitute. His wife, Gomer, left him multiple times and fathered children with other men, but Hosea did not leave her. Why? Because God commanded Hosea to keep pursuing Gomer and to remain faithful to her. If anyone had an excuse to leave the marriage it was Hosea, but instead he stayed as an act of obedience.

What is significant about this latter story is that Hosea’s marriage was not about attraction. Hosea did not, initially, seem to love Gomer at all. If anything, Hosea was probably disgusted at the idea of marrying her. This was no Redeeming Love.

However, Hosea’s marriage wasn’t about his love for Gomer as much as it was his love for God. His marriage was to be a symbol of the Israelites’ unfaithfulness to God. Like Gomer, Israel had rejected her one true love and whored herself out to false idols. Even so, God had remained faithful to Israel through it all, and now Israel had a flesh and blood visual of her betrayal, displayed in the life of Hosea.

As strange as Hosea’s predicament may sound, Christian marriage is not altogether different. Like Hosea, our marriages are a symbol of God’s relationship with us. Like Hosea, Christian marriage is a faint echo of the unconditional love we have in God. For a world that struggles to grasp such an abstract idea, Christian marriage is a compelling visual. Marriage inspires a collective imagination that can’t conceive of a love like God’s.

Along those lines, Hosea’s marriage is also similar to Christian marriage in that we are called to marital faithfulness as an act of faithfulness to God. Marriage is not, ultimately, about attraction or happiness but about becoming more like Christ. Like Christ, we love our spouses and persevere with them, not because it’s easy but because we are modeling the love of God when we do. When my husband is unlovable and I love him anyway, my marriage is an echo of Christ’s unconditional and sometimes illogical love for the world.

I was struck by that truth after re-reading Hosea this week. It’s easy to gauge my marriage according to how my husband and I are getting along, and Hosea’s example reorients me toward a higher standard. Hosea and Gomer did not get along at all! Yet Hosea stayed, and I find his dedication is a rather challenging indictment of the common approach to marriage today.

Happiness is a blessed by-product of marriage, but holiness and patience and love for the world–personal transformation that conforms us to the heart of God–that is the purpose of marriage. It is a lesson that is hard-learned over time, but we will certainly be better for it.

Final Note: Whenever I write on this topic I think it’s necessary to highlight an important exception to my above words. In the case of abuse, the principles of marital perseverance are different. Whether you choose to remain married or not, please do not enable your abuser by continually putting yourself in danger.

Before joining a non-denominational church this past year, I spent the last 10-ish years at various Southern Baptist churches. Although I would like to say my tenure in the SBC was theologically motivated, it was actually more coincidental. The churches I liked only happened to be Southern Baptist, which is why I dragged my feet for so long before becoming a member of one. With a reputation for things like boycotting Disney and being downright out of touch, I didn’t want to take on the Southern Baptist name. I didn’t want close ties with a group I saw as conservative and angry.

Of course, over time my perspective gained nuance, complexity and depth. I began to push past the stereotypes and actually look at the people in these churches that I liked so much. I studied Baptist polity and gained a respect for its history. I finally made the decision to become a member of my last church and it was a great decision. I loved that church.

Yet even with all of that positive experience, there is a residing part of me that cringes at conservative judgmentalism. I work hard to distance myself from that particular angry camp. However, I have also learned that conservatives aren’t the only ones guilty of being angry all the time. In all honesty, left leaning Christians have their own set of issues with which they are angry and frustrated. The agendas are different, but the rhetoric is about the same.

I make these assessments, not as one standing self-righteously outside the vitriol, but as someone who has wrestled greatly with my own feelings of anger. There is a lot that happens in churches that makes me angry. There is a lot that happens in Christian culture that makes me mad. And while there are undoubtedly times when that anger has some miniscule point of connection with the heart of God,  I have really begun to ask myself how much of my anger is profoundly rooted in sin.

Whenever I reflect on my anger, I always try to avoid using the word “hate.” With such strong Scriptural warnings against hate, I explain away my anger saying, “I don’t hate that person or movement; I just feeling very frustrated with them.” And I don’t think I’m alone in that semantic tap-dancing. Christians know the Scriptural commands against hate so we are careful not to admit to crossing that line. But in doing so, I willfully ignore the basic definition of hate:

To dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward (dictionary.com)

Though I may not admit to hate, these words describe my feelings all too accurately.

Even more challenging is the fact that Jesus doesn’t stop with that definition. He equates hate with murder, and in doing so he places emphasis on the desire to hurt. When we hate someone we tend not only to dislike them, but we wish them harm. Perhaps we don’t wish them physical violence (or perhaps we do), but we are more likely to hurt them through slander or verbal attack. This aggression can seem blunted through the indirect work of blogging or putting on a pretense of “warning” other Christians, but at the end of the day we want to hurt their reputation or stick it to them. We may not murder them physically, but we certainly murder their good name.

Here I need to pause and affirm that most churches are not, on the whole, hotbeds of hate and anger. In fact, most Christians I know are loving and wonderful people. However, the sin of hate has not only been allowed to remain within our walls under the guise of righteousness, but it has also been given vent in the public realm. Blogging and tweeting make it all too easy to trash another Christian in a venue where EVERYONE, Christian and non-Christian alike, can see it. And while hate is never a good practice, this new trend is sabotaging the church’s witness. Why would anyone want to join the church when Christians publicly vilify other Christians so often?

Hate is perhaps one of the greatest temptations and easiest sins to succumb to. That is certainly why Jesus and the Bible exhort Christians to love over and over and over again. It is at the heart of the two Greatest Commandments. Jesus reminds us to love our neighbors AND our enemies. Read ALL of 1 John. To be sure, the Bible takes hate VERY seriously. Hate is a sin. It is a trap. It divides. It kills. And it undermines our witness to the world.

Jesus tells us in John 13:35 that we must be known for our love, but it is easy to forget just how difficult a call that is. It is against our natures, it is one of the truly counter-cultural things we can do, and we have to work HARD for it. But if we don’t, if we persist in being angry because there is so much in the church to be angry about, and if we continue to publicly and privately slander one another in our disagreements, we will only be known for our hate.

It is easy to disagree with one another and highlight our differences. It is easy to hate. But as much as the public airing of grievances tempts me to respond with anger in return, Jesus calls me to the narrow way. He calls me to his table, to remember our unity in him, and to love. Anyone can hate, but the true mark of Christ’s character is the ability to look past our differences and lay ourselves down in love. This is a call I am praying for the grace to live out.

Last night my Bible study did something a little different. One of the girls in my group led us in a session of “guided prayer” which, if you are unfamiliar, involves visualizing your prayer.  The guide leads you through a series of steps by which you ultimately encounter Jesus and share your requests, anxieties and cares. I found the exercise to be incredibly peaceful and powerful. It’s a helpful way to remember the relational aspect of prayer instead of praying in some vague, upward direction. It was also an answer to a recent prayer of mine.

Lately I’ve noticed that my relationship with God has been sustained by knowledge more than love, a pattern that can become spiritually tiresome. Once I noticed the problem, I began praying that God would restore my joy and love for Him. I wanted to taste the sweetness of true intimacy with God again, and enjoy a renewed passion for Him.

Then last night happened.

My friend began the exercise by asking us to visualize a place where we remember being truly thankful. The first place that came to mind was a beach in North Carolina where Ike first told me he loved me. It is a precious memory to me. That day was terribly windy so we had to crouch behind a sand dune to escape the stinging onslaught of sand. It was there, as we sat on our towels huddled next to one another, that Ike leaned over and whispered into my ear, “I love you.”

We now refer to that spot on the beach as our “love dune.” And it was the perfect moment.

“Now imagine that Jesus is there with you, standing nearby.” That was the next step of the prayer. And what an incredible thought! As Ike and I first shared our feelings for one another, it almost made me cry to think of Jesus close by, taking in this beautiful moment that he himself had orchestrated. I had never thought of that event as a divine gift, but that is exactly what it was.

As the guided prayer continued, we were instructed to visualize walking over to Jesus and telling him whatever thoughts or questions were on our minds. For me, there was only one thing I wanted to tell Jesus there on that beach–THANK YOU! Thank you for my life, thank you for Ike, thank you for my family, thank you for all the good things in my life and thank you for sustaining me through all the bad. Amazingly, as I imagined this whole scenario in my mind, my heart was BURSTING with gratitude. God has been so good to me! How did I forget it??

Having expressed ourselves to Jesus, the members of my group were given a moment to imagine his response, and I knew just what Jesus would say to my overwhelming gratitude: “Of course, Sharon! I LOVE you!”

During that time of prayer I finally remembered just how magnificently God loves me. In addition to the big happy memories, there are also countless little acts of love that He tucks into my every day. And of course my response to Jesus’ love was love in return. I couldn’t help it. How can you stand in the presence of someone so perfect and kind and patient and good who loves you unconditionally, and not fall madly in love? Finally, I found the love I had been asking for. Ironically, my prayer was answered with prayer.

As the time of guided prayer drew to a close, I was reminded of 1 John 4:19 which says, “We love because he first loved us.” This verse is tough to truly understand unless you have experienced it. If you’ve never loved God before, or if you have forgotten the beauty of His love, it’s easy to read it as a command, as if I should love God because of His great love for us.

But this verse is a description of the Christian experience, not a prescriptive command. While there are times when our love for God is a disciplined choice (as it is with any other relationship), love begins as a natural response to His great love for us. The more we understand it, the less we can resist it. It is a delicious, exquisite kind of love that swallows you up and sweeps you away.

No matter how you feel about God today, whether you feel distant or ashamed or bitter or dry, don’t burden yourself with the work of conjuring up emotions that simply aren’t there. Instead, make space to remember Jesus’ love. Perhaps you can pray through the same exercise I described above, and imagine seeing Jesus face to face. What would you say to him? And what do you think he would say to you? I have no doubt it would be a word of love, so soak it in. An encounter with Jesus is where Christian love always begins.

Soon after Ike and I got engaged my dad presented us with two books: His Needs Her Needs, by Willard F. Harley, and The Five Love Languages, by Gary Chapman. I had already read parts of The Five Love Languages, so we decided to start with His Needs Her Needs (which we really enjoyed and I highly recommend!). Only last week did Ike and I crack open The Five Love Languages and read it cover to cover.

In case you’re unfamiliar with this classic book on marriage, it is founded on the premise that there are five primary ways to express and receive love from others: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch. Although most of us like to show and receive love in all five “languages,” most individuals gravitate toward one in particular. For instance, my primary love language is words of affirmation, which means that I feel most loved when Ike affirms me verbally. It also means that I am most likely to show him love by affirming him.

However, your spouse is likely to have a different love language than you, so the key is to discover one another’s love languages and express love to them according to their own inclination. My husband, for example, is a big quality time guy, so as much as I praise him and affirm him it doesn’t mean quite as much as my time and attention.

I knew all of this prior to reading the book, but upon reading it this week I made an interesting realization: Before getting married, I had diagnosed my primary love language incorrectly. As I already mentioned, I had read parts of the book before and I was very familiar with the categories. My misdiagnosis had nothing to do with a misunderstanding of the terms. Instead, I had misunderstood myself.

You see, when I was dating Ike I felt very frustrated in the “physical touch” department. I had concluded, mistakenly, that my primary love language was physical touch because it felt like the most passionate expression of my love. It also came easiest. And so I felt incredibly frustrated. Since Ike and I were committed to keeping our relationship pure, there were certain lines we could not cross. As a result, I was discouraged that I could not express love to Ike in the way that, I thought, came most natural to me.

Two years later, I now see that physical touch is NOT my love language. Of course, one glance at my platonic friendships would have made this truth painfully clear. I am not a hugger. Hugging people does not come naturally to me. It’s a learned discipline that I have picked up over time because it’s such a wonderful expression of hospitality. But it’s not my comfort zone. I have also never been the girl who likes to braid other girls’ hair or sit real close to people. Don’t get me wrong, I love when Ike holds my hand and I love sitting close to him on the couch. But is it my primary love language? Definitely not.

It turns out that what I thought was an inclination toward physical touch was instead physical attraction. Lust, as you may have noticed, is not one of the five love languages, but it is easy to confuse with physical touch.

I share all of this as a piece of retrospective insight to my readers who are currently in dating relationships. Whether or not you gravitate towards the love language of physical touch, I hope you can avoid making the same mistake I did by confusing the emotional exhilaration of physical attraction with a studied understanding of love and communication, or an honest assessment of yourself.

In addition to that point, I want to close with a lesson my dad shared with me when he gave me the book. Not only did he find it helpful for his marriage with my mom, but he also felt that the five love languages are a reflection of the five ways Jesus loved others. Jesus spoke words of love and affirmation to his disciples; he spent quality time with his followers, eating with them and listening to their hearts; he served his disciples by washing their feet and ultimately dying for their sins; he presented his followers with the gift of his presence; and lastly, he touched the untouchables.

My dad was right. Jesus exemplified all five love languages, which means we are to do the same. It also means that while these five love languages are typically discussed within the context of romance, we should also love our neighbors and our enemies according to the breadth of these five, just as Christ did. For Christians who are single, dating or married, that is a wonderful challenge for us all!

All you hopeless romantics out there are probably familiar with the plot-twisting scene from Bridget Jones’ Diary in which Bridget–the insecure, unlucky-in-love heroine of the film–hears something quite shocking from a man in her life, words so unusual that even her friends  are stunned to hear them:

“I like you very much. Just as you are.”

Just as you are. It’s no wonder Bridget was shocked to hear these words! We live in a world where women are often judged according to what they can do or produce, not simply who they are as individuals–Have you found a man to marry you? How many children do you have? How well do you cook? Are you able to keep your house clean and well-decorated at all times? Have you scrap-booked all of your children’s milestones? How well are your kids performing in school? And can you do all these things well while maintaining a fit and trim figure to please your husband?

With air-brushed models on magazine stands and the perfect Proverbs 31 women hanging over our heads in church, Christian women also struggle with feeling like they don’t measure up. Our society has very particular standards of value and we can easily become slaves to them. As a result, it’s hard to ever feel that you are really loved, just as you are, with lasting certainty. Truly unconditional love can seem rather elusive.

As a single woman I felt this elusiveness in an especially acute way, often wondering if ANY man could ever love me just the way I am. But the wondering did not end on my wedding day. Even now, I catch myself worrying about whether I compare to the super models that my husband sees on t.v., questioning whether he’s still glad that he married me or if he sometimes feels duped.

No matter what stage of life, we will be faced with the temptation to prove ourselves or earn people’s respect on a fairly consistent basis. And for good reason–we want to be good wives, mothers, friends and daughters. Even so, the unending treadmill of people-pleasing can be exhausting, and at the end of the day it doesn’t offer a security and acceptance that lasts.

Given this production-driven value system, I was refreshed and encouraged by a quote I heard this week. It came from a commentary on Genesis 2 in which Adam first encountered Eve. Seeing her for the first time, Adam spontaneously offers a poetic pronouncement, words that scholar Derek Kidner described the following way:

“The naming of the animals, a scene which portrays man as monarch of all he surveys, poignantly reveals him as a social being, made for fellowship, not power: he will not live until he loves, giving himself away (24) to another on his own level.  So the woman is presented wholly as his partner and counterpart; nothing is yet said of her as childbearer.  She is valued for herself alone.”

(Derek Kidner.  Genesis.  Tyndale Commentary Series. InterVarsity Press, 1967. p. 65)

Isn’t that beautiful?? Adam expects nothing of her–in fact, he is only focused on his role in serving her. Her value comes not from her beauty, her ability to bear children, or any other measure of a “good Christian wife.” She is highly valued simply for who she is.

That was Eden. That was the perfect male-female relationship that God intended.

Sadly, we don’t live in that perfect garden anymore. Our world is marred by misguided cultural norms and selfish motives–all of which impose themselves on the female identity. However, this snapshot of a pure moment between the first man and woman reminds us that it wasn’t supposed to be this way. The pressures we feel to be a good Christian woman, wife and mother are not from God. These value standards are not what God intended, nor are they any reflection of your value you as a woman.

So I want to encourage you with that today. If you are longing to be loved just the way you are, or if you are constantly plagued by the feeling that you just can’t measure up in some particular area, remember that it’s not supposed to be that way. The way that our world (and sometimes the church!) values women is a sign of the Fall. It is a sign of brokenness and sin. It is NOT a sign of your worth. God created you just the way you are because He wanted you that way. Yes, God wants to redeem your life from the sin that imprisons you, but when it comes to the special ways He created you to reflect His image, He wouldn’t change a thing.

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

- Jesus (John 13:34-35)

Women’s ministries are known for a lot of things, both good and bad–discipleship, self-help, retreats, fellowship, crying, and the list goes on. One thing that women’s ministries are NOT known for is taking vocal stands on current events. We tend to leave that to our sisters in the feminist movement.

I am often guilty of this. I focus a lot on theology and discipleship in this blog. I don’t frequently take a side on controversial hot topics because of how heavily they are politicized. And while this avoidance stems out of a desire for prudence and wisdom, I don’t want to hide behind this practice when the time comes to speak boldly and with conviction about current events.

This week is one of those times at which I feel burdened to take a stand. The issue is the church in Gainesville that plans to burn Qurans on 9/11. And before I go on any further I first want to state clearly and unequivocally what I believe every Christian (men and women alike) should be stating without hesitation:

This is wrong.

Unfortunately, a lot of Christians are struggling to take a firm stance on this. Why? Because of the church members’ rights as Americans. This morning as I drove to school I heard a Christian radio DJ discuss the issue, weighing the church members’ rights against their Christian obligations. As I listened I kept waiting for her to assume a definitive stance, and perhaps I was expecting too much–she probably would have gotten in a lot of trouble for taking a stand on behalf of the entire radio station.

Even so, this battle between our American and Christian identities is troubling to me. We seem to have lost sight of the fact that we are always Christians FIRST, and Americans second (or third, or fourth or fifth). And because this particular situation involves people who claim to represent Christ, then our primary mode of operation is that of the church. This is an issue of Christian accountability. Were it to happen in your own church or community, it would be a matter of church discipline. Just because people have the right to commit adultery does not mean we stand for it in our midst. And neither should we now.

Yesterday I heard a professor at my current school express a desire for Christians across the country to write their local newspapers issuing a strong repudiation of this act. I agree. In fact, a professor from my former seminary did just that. You can read his wonderfully gentle and articulate response here.

However you respond to this issue, know that your voice matters. Your co-workers, your neighbors, and your fellow students are all watching for your response. And your silence indicates one of two things: agreement, or apathy.

So at a moment when God’s reputation is on the line and the world is confused about who Jesus is and what it means to follow him, I have to ask how you are responding: In loving rebuke, silent assent, or with confusion over the location of your primary identity?  However you respond, know that your voice DOES matter. Being a faithful Christian woman means defending Christ in love and gentleness, but also with passion and boldness.

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest
is my lover among the young men.
I delight to sit in his shade,
and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

He has taken me to the banquet hall,
and his banner over me is love.

- Song of Solomon 2:3-4

In 2005 an author named Ayelet Waldman became the center of a huge controversy after publishing an article in the New York Times entitled “Truly, Madly, Guiltily” in which she confessed to loving her husband more than her children. Immediately, Waldman came under tremendous attack from angry mothers everywhere. The backlash was so intense that Waldman eventually appeared on Oprah to defend herself. Since then, Waldman has written an entire book on the topic, Bad Mother, that elaborates on the controversial subject, as well as detailing further “maternal crimes.”

In general terms, Waldman and I do not have a whole lot in common. Our moral ideologies are rather remote, but on this particular point I believe Waldman is on to something. Consider, for example, her explanation of why so many marriages fall into a sexual rut, stemming from the wife’s lack of sex drive:

“There are agreed upon reasons for this bed death. They are exhausted. It still hurts. They are so physically available to their babies – nursing, carrying, stroking – how could they bear to be physically available to anyone else?

“But the real reason for this lack of sex, or at least the most profound, is that the wife’s passion has been refocused. Instead of concentrating her ardor on her husband, she concentrates it on her babies. Where once her husband was the center of her passionate universe, there is now a new sun in whose orbit she revolves. Libido, as she once knew it, is gone, and in its place is all-consuming maternal desire.”

Waldman goes on to explain that while she loves her kids and would do anything for them, she is not “in love” with them the way some mothers are:

“Yes, I have four children. Four children with whom I spend a good part of every day: bathing them, combing their hair, sitting with them while they do their homework, holding them while they weep their tragic tears. But I’m not in love with any of them. I am in love with my husband.”

I have to say that this hearty endorsement of marital love is a refreshing change from the standard conceptions of marriage in the media. Television and film tend to portray marriage as the place where sexual passion goes to die. Yet Waldman challenges this belief with a new conception of marriage–one full of romance and heat, as well as trustworthy companionship. And it all stems out of a highly prioritized marriage.

Although I don’t have children yet, I find that Waldman’s words are very much relevant to my life here and now. In the last 6 months I have struggled tremendously to accept God’s call on my life for the next few years. He has made it undeniably clear that I go back to school, and I will be here for the next 3-4 years. Although my husband and I still practice Natural Family Planning and are therefore open to the arrival of a child whenever he or she comes, any intentional effort at conceiving will be delayed for a couple more years. That is a hard reality for me.

Watching my other married friends get pregnant and have babies fills my heart with envy. I would love to be at that place right now. But God has other plans at the moment, so I must wait. And it is during this waiting, when I feel like something is lacking in me as a woman and us as a family, that I am reminded that a strong family rests upon a strong marriage. As Andy Stanley once said, ”Kids are a welcome addition, but you are already a family.”

We live in a culture that is bifurcated by two competing views of motherhood: one that completely devalues motherhood, and one that overvalues it, placing a woman’s entire identity in her ability to have and raise children. There must be a middle ground between the two, and Waldman re-centers us onto that balance. She is not promoting parental negligence, but instead a healthy re-prioritizing.

The main thing I would add to Waldman’s thinking is the even greater centrality of God. While the marital priority stabilizes the family, the God priority stabilizes the marriage–and every other aspect of our lives.

So while this chapter of my life is a difficult one in some regards, Waldman’s essay is a helpful reminder that this season can serve as an investment in the next. It is extra free time to focus on God and my husband before adding kids to the mix. And I plan to be a good steward of the opportunity. As Waldman beautifully concludes in her essay:

“And if my children resent having been moons rather than the sun? If they berate me for not having loved them enough? If they call me a bad mother?

“I will tell them that I wish for them a love like I have for their father. I will tell them that they are my children, and they deserve both to love and be loved like that. I will tell them to settle for nothing less than what they saw when they looked at me, looking at him.”

I hope to say the exact same thing to my children one day….especially when telling them about their Heavenly Father.

To read Waldman’s article in its entirety, click here.