The Fracture: September 2023, Part 2
A book from a former pastor's wife, a sexy old school jam, and COVID
This was the longest fucking month ever.
But I’m still grateful, Dr. Phil, because that’s what I should say. Let’s just jump in.
The (only) link - seriously, I just have one
So I don’t plan on reading Shannon Harris’s book The Woman They Wanted: Shattering the Illusion of the Good Christian Wife because I know it. Sure, my husband wasn’t a purity culture guru with a best-selling book about Christlike, modern courting practices, but I know how pastor’s wives are easily forgotten and expected to sacrifice for the ministry.
I just get angry that this is still normal. When the mission is paramount, any shade of individualism and personality will become a casualty, especially when the mission encourages a death to self.
When women’s gifts are used (watch which ones!), they are rarely compensated in ministry. I can’t even think about how my ingenuity, writing, and willingness were taken advantage of on top of the many other expected duties of childcare and hospitality.
What really annoys me are Christianity Today articles such as Rachel Joy Welcher’s review titled “Shannon Harris Wasn’t Content with Being a Purity Culture Stagehand.” CT usually has a formula to their articles:
Deliver the “shockers.”
But the gospel (AKA “For the Bible tells me so”).
This is sad. Let’s try better.
Welcher ends her article with this:
“But I think it is also time to soberly consider the ways we might have personally contributed to pushing people out of the church—people like Shannon Harris. People like your friends, who you mock for deconstructing their faith. Maybe everything they have seen and experienced in the church has nothing to do with Jesus, and they’re walking away without ever having seen his face.”
I understand and welcome that she gives believers a moment to evaluate how they treat those leaving/have left, but the “they’re walking away without ever having seen his face” is cringe on so many levels.
First, after so many articles ending this way (see above point #3), maybe the church is no longer the place people will see his face. Christians are apparently doing a crappy job emulating their savior with all of these “c’mon guys” pieces.
Looking at all of the harm from egotistical churches that have done a poor job with sexual abuse reform and making women and girls feel like shit for simply existing no matter how they dress, it seems that after receiving salvation through Christ, you’ll need him to then save you from his people.
Second, the “they’re walking away without ever having seen his face” may have been intended to say more to the church-goers and their actions, but it comes off as questioning the salvation of those leaving/have left.
I’m hoping Welcher wasn’t going there and would love to give her the benefit of the doubt, but an editor should have caught this. Social media did.
In and out of church, I’ve always wondered how so many Christians can delve easily in this delicate area. That’s God’s zone; I was too reverent to dwell where my ass should never go. When prayer group headed into the direction of assuming the absence or loss of someone’s salvation, the Holy Spirit always told me to shut my mouth. Such a shame that this seems rare.
The music
Just sexy songs to get sexy to because I’m apparently really good at transitions.
I have loved this song since I was a kid which is weird but explains a lot. I plan on eventually butchering this song one day at karaoke.
Anita Baker - “Sweet Love”
I’ll never go, wait and see, can’t be wrong
Don’t you know this is where you belong?
I was feeling some John Mayer vibes one evening. This one will always be one of my favorites.
John Mayer - “I Don’t Trust Myself (With Loving You)”
I will beg my way into your garden
And then I’ll break my way out again, when it rains
Just to get back to the place where I started
So I can want you back all over again (I don’t really understand)
Useless personal trivia: On Room for Squares, if you put together the titles of two John Mayer songs you get my exact birthday (month, date, year). Let’s read into this.
The random
After three years in education, I finally got COVID, and it sucked. It also delayed the start of my new job, so there’s that. I had to take a step back from my rigorous workout schedule, and that really bothered me. More importantly, as one of the healthiest people I know, I got really scared and worried for others as I experienced chills, rib cage inflammation, congestion, headaches, body pain, and night sweats. I’ve always been one of the first ones to get my shots and boosters, but I wasn’t in a hurry to get the new one that just came out. This changed my mind.
My oldest is 15 today. I go big with birthdays. I didn’t grow up with fun traditions as a kid and coupled with my need to make others feel special, I enacted traditions for our crew. We update the themed birthday countdown each day on the chalkboard cabinets in the laundry room. We do birthday week which includes a scavenger hunt to find small gifts on the days leading up to the birthday. Everyone takes turns offering birthday blessings and wishes with the lights turned low.
It’s magical to be able to celebrate someone’s growth and change alongside their cemented quirks and personality. Sure, I take it for granted, but when I slow down I’m in awe that I get a front row seat to the carving of one’s journey.
And for what really matters…
The power of putting your hair in low buns as you get ready and then reveal sexy wavy locks before you get to your destination.
Transitions, where I feel unprepared and ill-equipped, are ripe and on the horizon. I will have to absorb instead of maneuver myself out of the way. Seeking growth during the uncertainty. For me and you.
Thanks for reading. Would love your thoughtful (or dull - hey, we’re not all operating at 100%) comments.
My dull comment is that I, too, took three years to get covid. I'd just had the latest booster (this was at the end of May) so it wasn't too bad. They make a difference. Antivirals helped, also, especially in the first few days.