Christian Modesty

NLQ Review: Sex, Mom and God by Frank Schaeffer

June 2, 2011
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Midwife at the Birth of Quiverfull

A review by Hopewell

Frank Schaeffer, son of Fran and Edith Schaeffer of L’Abri fame, continues his personal memoirs in his new book Sex, Mom, and God: How the Bible’s Strange Take on Sex Led to Crazy Politics–and How I Learned to Love Women (and Jesus) Anyway. Before I review the book I want to say that I was sent a copy to review by Frank Schaeffer, but was not paid for my review so the views expressed here are my own.


I have often cited Schaeffer’s “Calvin Becker Trilogy”
as some of the funniest books I’ve ever read. That said, I’ve found his non-fiction version of his life to be tougher reading. While his fiction is trim, funny and pulls the reader fully into the story, his non-fiction sort of rambles. And has a somewhat bitter edge to it. Considering his upbringing, these are not surprising and they do not come across as whining–more like talking in circles. That said, I learned a lot of new information in this volume, and did certainly get some good laughs.

Readers of this blog who read and critique my Duggar-family posts, will be especially interested in Frank’s role in birthing the Quiverfull movement. Way back in the Day, when he was still styled “Franky Schaeffer” (to distinguish him from from his same-named father), Frank was literary agent to a new Christian author named Mary Pride. With the Schaeffer name attached, Pride’s book was a shoe-in. Today we know her, and her (in)famous book, The Way Home: Beyond Feminism, Back to Reality as the Spiritual Mother of the Quiverfull Movement. Frank(y) then, was her midwife.


What makes Frank(y)’s role so intriguing, is the fact that his parents were very much pro-birth control. His mother, who in fact and fiction, loved nothing (except maybe the Lord) more than discussing sex, revealed to her very young son that not only was his father a “passionate” lover, but his needs were such that they had marital relations every day–even when Mom was “off the roof” and Biblically unclean due to menstruation. She also showed him her diaphram and explained its purpose fully to her surprised son.


Known as well for her talks on the importance of keeping a man’s needs fulfilled as she was for her Hidden Art of Homemaking
[life style and book of same name--which predate Martha Stewart and still have a cult-like following today], Edith famously said that even on the Mission Field a wife needs a see-thru black nightie to entertain her husband. After “The Way Home,” Edith questioned her son with “Where did you find this unfortunate woman?” Like much of Edith’s prose, rhetoric and general life questions, this is a question still relevant today.

The Destiny of a Virtuous Daughter ~ Part 2: My New Love

May 29, 2011
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by Starfury

For as much as my parents objected to many worldly things, they gave in on a surprising number of equally worldly things. Most notably, in my case, was the subject of ballet. I had always wanted to dance from a young age, and when I was 8, my parents finally agreed to let me begin to take classes. This was often something I was reminded to be grateful for–they weren’t as conservative as other families, after all.

In truth, I was grateful for it. I loved it with all my heart, and had great dreams of practicing hard and winding up as a prima ballerina for some famous worldwide touring company and performing all the famous ballets. There was only one problem with this idea… I wasn’t sure how I could maintain the necessary strenuous schedule kept by company dancers (classes and rehearsals all day, every day), and still be a loving wife and mother who homeschooled her kids. As the years went on, I slowly began to decide that as much as I loved dance, I probably wasn’t going to end up doing it professionally. After all, I’d wanted to be many other things growing up, including an astronaut and a dolphin trainer, but neither was really compatible with homeschooling 6+ kids (and I didn’t like swimming under water).

Fortunately for my overactive imagination and tendency to jump wholeheartedly into things, ever embracing some new idea for my life that would somehow either be forced to fit the wife and mother mold, or be tossed out the window, my parents decided it was time that my political apathy came to an end. I was summarily informed that I would be participating in a program called TeenPact, which involved me being shipped off to the capital for four days to learn how the government worked. I had always hated politics, but it did offer high school credit, and my parents wanted me to expand my horizons–within the scope they had predetermined, of course.

My first day at the capital had my introversion hitting me full force. I was wearing an ankle-length skirt and my hair was bound up in a snood so I could wear a headcovering, but still seem somewhat “modern.” That was the first time I had ever touched a boy, when one of the boys there came over and shook my hand. There was a brief moment of horror, and wondering if I had just committed a terrible sin, but I decided that it couldn’t have been that bad. Lightning hadn’t struck me, and this was a Christian group, after all.

At the end of the four-day program, I was utterly changed. Politics was my new love, and I wanted nothing more than to go into it myself so I could help make a difference, turn people back toward Christ, and somehow set myself up as an example for how godly women can affect politics. My intentions were never purposefully arrogant–I merely thought that if I want someone to look up to, but the person I wanted didn’t exist, then I should pioneer the way myself. Though my aspirations were gradually turning independent, I realized that I had to keep them quiet… I should be more concerned about how to be a proper senator’s wife, than a proper senator.

The Beautiful Girlhood Doll ~ Part 2: Purity & Contentment

April 17, 2011
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by Libby Anne
To be pure in body, mind, and spirit is more precious than all the promises the world offers. Young ladies who experience a beautiful girlhood guard their hearts against anything that would rob them of purity and are content to wait upon the Lord and trust the leadership of Mom and Dad.

My mother taught us when we were little that prostitutes are women who sell their kisses. We, in contrast, were to be pure and save our kisses for our wedding day.

I am not sure when I learned that my dad would give me a purity ring the day I turned thirteen, but it must have been fairly early on because I remember thinking “I’m only seven and it will be six more years until I get my purity ring! How am I going to wait that long?” And indeed, I couldn’t wait. Finally, on my thirteenth birthday, mom and dad took me out to eat and gave me the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. It was love at first sight, and from that point on, I wore my purity ring constantly.

When I was around twelve, I read I Kissed Dating Goodbye, by Joshua Harris, and loved it. Next I read Jeff McLean’s Courtship. There was a lot of other literature too, most of it from No Greater Joy and Vision Forum. My parents read the literature too, though I am not sure when. What I do know is that I cannot remember a time when courtship was not the expectation. I embraced the idea of courtship as wholeheartedly as my parents, and used to daydream about young men asking my father’s permission to court me.

I never found not dating as a teenager odd, and I think that this was for two reasons. First, I did not meet many boys my age. In fact, I did not have a single male friend. Sure, I saw my brothers’ friends, but they were significantly younger than I and thus not marriage material. Through some strange coincidence, all of the families my family associated with had only girls my age, and their brothers were all younger. So in other words, I never had a guy that I was close to, or even really knew at all, so there was never any desire to date anyone, or even any opportunity to court. But then, I knew that would come eventually. The second reason not dating didn’t seem odd was that none of my friends dated either.

While I knew I believed in courtship, I had very little idea about how it would unfold in practice. I guess I figured that my father would handle it when the time came. Every time I saw an article on courtship in No Greater Joy magazine, I hoped my dad would read it and take notes. At some point, dad gave me a list of requirements that a candidate for my hand would have to pass. While his list was not very long, it did include the basics. My list, in contrast, was much longer.

When I was sixteen, my dad made me a hope chest. I was thrilled. I proceeded to fill it with a variety of items, including linens, kitchenware, and books on homemaking. I was very proud of my hope chest, and I could hardly wait to be a wife. I would open my hope chest and smell the cedar, and just know that my future would bring me much joy. I could hardly wait.

No Charity in The Remnant ~ Part 3: Rebellion

April 14, 2011
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by Whisper Rain

Whisper ran outside, down the slope, and into a tangle of trees. She sat down in the grass, in shock. It was kind of a blur, what had happened just now in the house… something that had never happened before in her sixteen years of life. It was joked about maybe, but never for real… but this… this was dead serious.

Her parents used to feel kind of sorry for her friends who lived their lives inside a rigid cage of rules. The Rains didn’t operate that way! Whisper’s parents were her friends! But the way she had just been talked to in that house felt anything but friendly… it felt demeaning.

Denny Kenaston’s archaic chatter about “modesty” and “submission,” and warnings about “harlotry” had sounded so silly and harmless coming out of the stereo… but when it was rephrased into new rules… into new expectations for her behavior, those words were like weapons. The amount of pain they inflicted surprised her. They suggested that her individuality was evil… that her preferences were rebellious… that her independence was ungodly. She was furious. She knew she had blown up- she had shouted at her parents. She had probably sworn at them, and she knew she had slammed the door on her way out. Her heart pounded and her eyes burned… she wanted to go anywhere… anywhere but back into that house.

She looked down at her jeans. She had saved up money and bought them herself. She didn’t have very many pairs, but they were cute and flattering, and she lived in them. Whisper knew that when she stood up and went back into the house, she was expected to go straight to her room and replace them with a long, frumpy denim skirt. The thought made her sick. If she were really a “godly daughter” according to those horrible tapes, she’d probably give away her jeans. Or even throw them away so that she wouldn’t “allow another young lady to dress immodestly”… Whisper groaned. This whole thing felt embarrassingly ridiculous. Obviously she wasn’t very godly. She curled up on the ground and stayed there for a long time. It got dark.

Eventually, Whisper dragged herself up off the ground and walked back up to the house. She stared at the bright windows. Her house was beautiful. Her family was fun… maybe… maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. Maybe her parents hadn’t meant it the way that it came across. Maybe she should just wear a stupid skirt for awhile out of respect for her Dad, and the whole thing would blow over.

Something inside of her wanted to turn around and walk away that night. She remembered her aunt jokingly telling her that if she ever needed to run away, she was welcome at her house. It was tempting… just walk a couple miles to a neighbor’s and make the phone call… Whisper jerked herself back to reality and slowly walked back into the house. She carefully folded her jeans and put them away… and then she went to bed.

In the morning, she put on a skirt. Her parents smiled at her, and she fake smiled back.

The Beautiful Girlhood Doll ~ Part 1: Faith & Fortitude

April 7, 2011
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by Libby Anne

The spirit of beautiful girlhood is alive in the girl who, with courage and fortitude, perseveres through the many challenges of life. She realizes that “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” and consequently, strives for the principled course of action.

My parents saw us children as empty slates, and held that we had been given to them as gifts from God. At the same time, they believed that babies were born full of sin and ready to lead destructive, miserable, evil lives if allowed to develop without training. Therefore, my parents believed that it was their duty to shape and mold us into godly men and women, and they took this duty very seriously.

When we were little, my parents, following the teaching of Michael and Debi Pearl, trained us children to obey their simplest commands. My parents said they believed in house proofing the baby, rather than baby proofing the house. This meant that they would intentionally leave enticing objects within reach of a toddler, and then spank his or her hand and say “no” each time he or she reached for it. Similarly, they would call a toddler to come, spank the child if he or she did not come immediately, and then try it again. In this way, we were forced to submit our wills and learn obedience. After all, my parents told us, disobedience was rebellion against God.

My parents also worked hard to instill their faith in us children. We were expected to spend personal time reading the Bible and praying each morning before doing our chores. After chores came breakfast, and after breakfast, Bible time. My mother read the Bible aloud to us and then we discussed the passage and had group prayer. God was included in nearly every one of our homeschool subjects, including history and science. We learned that God had guided the founding fathers as they wrote the Constitution and that science properly understood shows that God created the world in six literal days six thousand years ago. Before bed, my parents gathered all of us together and prayed with us. God was a given, a part of our lives, and Jesus was a personal friend.

My mother used God to teach us to behave. If two of my siblings were bickering, they would be told to imagine that Jesus was standing right there with them. A child who was sulking would be asked, “do you think you are making Jesus happy right now?” If one of my siblings did his chores sloppily, my mother would quote from the Bible: “Do your job cheerfully as unto the Lord.” If one of my siblings needed an “attitude readjustment,” they would be sent to their bed with their Bible and told to read it. Another frequent punishment was copying down a verse from the Bible by hand, fifty or even a hundred times. In this way we were told a million times a day to make sure that our behavior conformed with what God would want, and of course, what God wanted—for us to do our chores thoroughly, to have a cheerful, loving attitude, and not bicker—was what mom and dad wanted.

Once we reached high school, my siblings and I took an apologetics class with a professor of theology my parents knew. I loved learning the fine points of doctrine, and I loved thinking about Christian theology. My parents often discussed theology around the supper table, helping us children understand what we believed and why. I frequently checked out books from our church library and read about a variety of subjects. The more I read the more convinced I was that my parents’ beliefs were right. I was devoted to my faith and dedicated to my Savior. Like my parents, I believed wholeheartedly that demons were real, that the rapture was coming, that the world had been created in six days six thousand years ago, and that anyone who had not asked Christ as their savior was destined for hell. This instilled me with a deep sense of mission – I had a purpose and a destiny.

No Charity in The Remnant ~ Part 2: Just Follow

April 5, 2011
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by Whisper Rain

When Whisper woke up the morning after praying the Sinner’s Prayer with her parents, she didn’t really think about it much.

Nothing was different. Life at the Rain house went on as usual. Homeschooling every day, changing clothes to go to friends’ houses, and yes, church was still scary. Her parents and brothers and sisters were her favorite people in the world. Second place went to the Orwells, the family who had moved south with them. The Orwells came over a lot, they were Whisper’s family’s best friends! The children were close enough in age that everybody had somebody to play with.

Around this time, two new things started happening. Whisper started noticing Mama Rain getting a lot more serious about certain things. She would get up early so she could spend time reading her bible. She had started listening to tapes of a preacher from up north… a preacher with a funny, almost german-sounding accent that struck Whisper as interesting. She had never heard an accent like that before. That preacher shouted a lot, but his shouting was different. He used King James English a lot too- he said things like, “heritage,” “covenant,” “godly seed” and “as unto the Lord” when he wasn’t even quoting the bible. His messages seemed to have less to do with fire and damnation… which was kind of nice. One day a tape came in the mail from this preacher, and after Mama Rain listened to it, she tied a bandanna on over her hair. Whisper caught something in passing about “submission” and “authority.” She didn’t think about it much though.

The other new thing that started happening was that Mama Rain’s best friend, Mrs. Orwell, started calling a lot more often. Mrs. Orwell always seemed to be upset. She needed someone to talk to, but the things she said were happening seemed unthinkable. Mama Rain wasn’t sure what to do… and the next thing they knew, Mrs. Orwell had left her family. She filed for divorce. Now she didn’t call Mama Rain as often… and when she did Mama Rain didn’t know what to say.

The little southern town started buzzing with gossip about the Orwells. Most of what was said was unkind and hurtful. They stopped coming to church, and Mr. Orwell didn’t really want to be around anyone who reminded him of the past… Whisper’s best friends were suddenly gone. The Orwell children were put into public school. Their lives were upside down, and all of a sudden Whisper had nothing in common with them. It hurt to be pushed away like that. Whisper was a teenager by this time, and it really upset her that she couldn’t be there for these people she cared so much about. The Orwells and the Rains grew apart, but Whisper and her family never stopped thinking about them, and hoping they were okay.

Thankfully, the little Baptist church started having problems and split in half right around then, and in the confusion, the Rain family stopped going & nobody noticed. Soon after that, they moved away from that little town, up into the mountains. Angelica Dietz faithfully wrote letters to Whisper after they moved. The girls had less and less in common, but Angelica still kept writing regularly, and Whisper felt obligated to answer.

Angelica was a model daughter. A contented follower. She loved being gentle and feminine, and taking care of babies, and wanted nothing more than to be a wife and mother of many on a farm someday. She was secure in her belief in God, and that he had saved her when she was very young.

Whisper, on the other hand, had never had much use for feminine things. She liked being strong and independent, and enjoyed building things and fixing things with her Dad. She was fascinated with anatomy and biology, and wanted to learn to perform surgeries and heal people someday. Her thoughts about God were sporadic and uncomfortable. She was still afraid of God and hell, but she told herself that the Prayer she had prayed all those years ago was all God wanted. Now she was safe from his wrath… she hoped. So she put it out of her mind as much as possible.

The Beautiful Girlhood Doll ~ Introduction

March 29, 2011
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Print Friendlyby Libby Anne My parents started out as fairly ordinary evangelicals. My mother intended to go back to work after I was born, but once she held me in her arms she decided she could not bear to leave me with anyone else, and so she stayed at home. When I turned five, my mom could not bear the thought of sending me off to kindergarten. I was still so little, after all, and what did kids really learn in kindergarten? She had heard of homeschooling, and, though she was still skeptical, she decided Full post …

No Charity in The Remnant ~ Part 1: The Sinner’s Prayer

March 22, 2011
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by Whisper Rain

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. We’ll call her Whisper Rain. :) She was a furiously happy little girl- she had tons of energy & was sometimes loud and difficult, but her parents loved her very much just the way she was.

Soon her little brothers and sisters started coming along, and happy little Whisper got even happier. She was confident- and bossy sometimes- but her little brothers and sisters didn’t seem to mind. She made up stories and jumped on the couch, and even cussed like a sailor once in awhile.

One day Whisper’s Mommy was excited! She had met Jesus, and now she finally felt like, through his strength and with his guidance, she could be the Mommy she’d always wanted to be for her children. The Rain family started going to church, and the people there were very nice. The children did all kinds of fun things at church, and made friends. Whisper started public school and made more friends! Sometimes they’d take along some school friends to church, and they all had a good time together.

All the kids in the neighborhood liked to come play at the Rain’s house, because it was a fun place to be. Sometimes she’d go to their houses to play too, and sometimes while she was there she would see parents fighting and yelling, and slamming doors… and that kind of scared her. It was so different from home, where Mom and Dad would sing songs with you and play hide and seek and video games with you… Whisper liked her family.

When Whisper was in third grade, her Daddy lost his job and her parents decided to move down south to look for work. One of Daddy’s friends was planning to move too, and the families got to know each other and decided to make the move together! Their new friends, the Orwells, had a boy right around Whisper’s age, and they quickly became friends. Finally, the house sold and Whisper said goodbye to her grandparents and cried as she watched them get smaller and smaller in the U-Haul truck’s big rearview mirror. It was a LONG drive to this new state they were moving to! Everything there was different! Their new town was so small! The people there talked with a funny accent. But at least they had their new friends nearby!