NO LONGER QIVERING » gender equality http://nolongerquivering.com There Is No 'You' In Quivering ... Tue, 07 Feb 2012 12:51:23 +0000 hourly 1 The Myth of the Weaker Vessel http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/02/07/the-myth-of-the-weaker-vessel/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/02/07/the-myth-of-the-weaker-vessel/#comments Tue, 07 Feb 2012 12:47:28 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=16108 by Eric Pazdziora In response to a popular pastor’s perplexing pronouncement that “God has given Christianity a masculine feel,” Rachel Held Evans asked Christian men to write a blog post “that celebrates the importance of women in the Church.” Here’s mine. Lately, both from online creepers and respectable preachers, I’ve seen several comments that come back to one idea: Of course we give lip service to the idea that women are equal to men, but actually they’re inferior, because the Bible says that a woman is a “weaker vessel.” Here’s a composite portrait, based very closely on wording I’ve seen in various places: There is a difference between men and women, regardless of what you would like to believe. The Bible makes this clear: 1 Peter 3:7– “Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the weaker vessel.” Either this passage is true and women are “weaker vessels,” or it’s not. If it’s not, why believe any of the Bible? God says that because women are weaker, they are more vulnerable to deception and temptation. There are lots of things they don’t know or can’t deal with. That’s why God has raised up men to be the godly authorities they need to guard their hearts and spirits….. I find that rather unsettling. Continually dwelling on how someone is weak and vulnerable and in need of help is disturbingly similar to what’s called “learned helplessness” (or sometimes “gaslighting” after the Ingrid Bergman film). In its worst forms, it’s a technique of psychological abuse. It works with a chilling simplicity: the more a feeling of helplessness is reinforced on you, the more likely you are to believe it. If every time you go to pick up a bag I say, “Let me get that for you; you’re too weak,” eventually you’ll start to say, “You’ll have to get that for me; I’m too weak.” Even if you’re not. So it’s no surprise that this Bible verse about the “weaker vessel” is a favorite weapon in the arsenal of religious people who want to dominate and control women (see The Bondage of Betrothal.) Even when people don’t intend to put women down, though, it can have much the same effect. If you say “Women are inferior” with the very best of intentions and disclaimers, you’re still saying it. Learned helplessness works in either case. Some of the most belittling statements in the example above were taken straight from a blog post written by a young woman. It’s bad enough when misogynists belittle women; it’s distressing when women do it for them. Belittling someone is not a good way to celebrate them. The way it’s presented there, though, it looks like we have to embrace some form of sexism or else throw out the entire Bible. As a Christian, I don’t especially like either option. So here’s the question: Does the Bible really say that all women are “weaker vessels”? Well… it does use the phrase “weaker vessels.” But to quote the philosopher Inigo Montoya, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

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]]> by Eric Pazdziora

In response to a popular pastor’s perplexing pronouncement that “God has given Christianity a masculine feel,” Rachel Held Evans asked Christian men to write a blog post “that celebrates the importance of women in the Church.” Here’s mine.

Lately, both from online creepers and respectable preachers, I’ve seen several comments that come back to one idea: Of course we give lip service to the idea that women are equal to men, but actually they’re inferior, because the Bible says that a woman is a “weaker vessel.” Here’s a composite portrait, based very closely on wording I’ve seen in various places:

There is a difference between men and women, regardless of what you would like to believe. The Bible makes this clear: 1 Peter 3:7– “Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the weaker vessel.” Either this passage is true and women are “weaker vessels,” or it’s not. If it’s not, why believe any of the Bible? God says that because women are weaker, they are more vulnerable to deception and temptation. There are lots of things they don’t know or can’t deal with. That’s why God has raised up men to be the godly authorities they need to guard their hearts and spirits…..

I find that rather unsettling. Continually dwelling on how someone is weak and vulnerable and in need of help is disturbingly similar to what’s called “learned helplessness” (or sometimes “gaslighting” after the Ingrid Bergman film). In its worst forms, it’s a technique of psychological abuse. It works with a chilling simplicity: the more a feeling of helplessness is reinforced on you, the more likely you are to believe it. If every time you go to pick up a bag I say, “Let me get that for you; you’re too weak,” eventually you’ll start to say, “You’ll have to get that for me; I’m too weak.” Even if you’re not.

So it’s no surprise that this Bible verse about the “weaker vessel” is a favorite weapon in the arsenal of religious people who want to dominate and control women (see The Bondage of Betrothal.) Even when people don’t intend to put women down, though, it can have much the same effect. If you say “Women are inferior” with the very best of intentions and disclaimers, you’re still saying it. Learned helplessness works in either case. Some of the most belittling statements in the example above were taken straight from a blog post written by a young woman. It’s bad enough when misogynists belittle women; it’s distressing when women do it for them.

Belittling someone is not a good way to celebrate them. The way it’s presented there, though, it looks like we have to embrace some form of sexism or else throw out the entire Bible. As a Christian, I don’t especially like either option. So here’s the question: Does the Bible really say that all women are “weaker vessels”?

Well… it does use the phrase “weaker vessels.” But to quote the philosopher Inigo Montoya, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

R. A. Torrey’s remarks, which I’ve mentioned often, are more than usually relevant here:

A very large part of man’s difficulties with the Bible comes from not noting exactly what it says. Time and time again men have come to me and said, “I cannot believe this which the Bible says,” and then have quoted something which they supposed the Bible said. But I have replied, “The Bible does not say that,” and when we have looked it up, lo, it is some minute modification of what the Bible really says that has given rise to the difficulty. The Bible is always so absolutely exact, that I have found the best solution for very many apparent difficulties in the Bible to be to take the difficult verses precisely as they read. (The Voice of God in the Present Hour, pp. 11–12)

Just because someone begins a sentence with “The Bible makes it clear that…” does not mean that what follows is necessarily biblical, or even that it’s in the Bible at all. Torrey warns us to look out for “some minute modification of what the Bible really says.” In this case, though, there isn’t some minute modification. There are some major modifications.

Look at the actual words of the verse in question:

Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered. (1 Peter 3:7, ESV)

Compare it to the way it was quoted at the beginning — which, I should mention, was taken verbatim from an (admittedly dubious) online source — and you’ll see three very striking differences that might make us reconsider what it means to be a “weaker vessel.”

First, it says wives, not women. The misquoted verse is used to make a point about how we should view all women. But it’s not about that at all. The very first words give it away: “Likewise, husbands, live with your wives…” Can it get any more obvious? File it under Reading Comprehension 101. The verse is about how one particular man (a husband) should treat one particular woman (his wife).

The recommended way to treat your wife is not, “Tell her to submit to your authority.” Rather, a husband should treat her “in an understanding way” – be considerate and empathetic, don’t set unrealistic expectations, be kind and compassionate and caring. Not just that, “showing honor” – treat her as valuable, special, priceless, precious; be respectful and deferential and courteous; treat her as more important than yourself.

Honor is what you give people you look up to.

Honor is what you give people you admire for qualities you aspire to.

Honor is what you give people who are superior to you.

So why does it say “weaker”? That leads to the second major modification:

It says as, not is. The misquoted version leaves out the terribly important word as (Gk. hōs.) The Bible doesn’t say, “The women is a weaker vessel.” It says, “Show her honor as a weaker vessel.” Those little letters make a big difference. It’s not an equivalency but a comparison. Consider another Scriptural example:

Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves. (Matthew 10:16)

If someone said that the Bible makes it clear that we need to have wool, slither around, and lay eggs, you’d say they were nuts. You’d be right. The word “as” shows that Jesus is using a simile, a figure of speech. We’re not doves; rather, we’re like doves in one particular point for the purposes of an illustration. (Namely, we should be gentle and innocent in our dealings with others.)

In what way is a wife like a weaker vessel? She’s certainly not weaker mentally, spiritually, emotionally, giftedly, or any other way that really matters. Speaking as a not-at-all wimpy human male, I know women who are more athletic than I am, better educated than I am, more successful than I am, and have emotional and spiritual strength I can only dream of aspiring to. (In fact, I’m married to someone who’s pretty much all of the above, plus much better looking to boot.)

That’s not some feminist dogma; it’s a simple observable fact. Lindsey Vonn has won an Olympic gold medal; I haven’t. Jane Yolen has published over 300 books and won most major literary awards; I haven’t. My boss, the VP of a large publishing house, is a single mom with a doctorate in theology, which I don’t have. And I wish you could have known my friend Evangeline, who earned a master’s degree in her 60s and was editing the next volume of a Bible commentary the day she died after a 20-year fight with cancer. Weaker? I think not.

Thus a lot of commentators take the view that it’s merely about physical strength, considering that Peter was likely writing to an audience where husbands were manual laborers while wives ran the household. That’s somewhat sensible, at least if you’re thinking about heavy lifting, but most women can take just as much physical strain as men in other ways. I don’t know any men who want to take on the pain of childbirth, for instance. Even running a household is no job for a weakling; the Proverbs 31 woman has enough skills to rival any business executive. And domestic work is downright intimidating to lots of manly men I could name.

So I wonder if there’s more to it than that. Remember, the structure of the phrase is, “Show her honor as a weaker vessel.” The central word is honor, a term of value, worth, and respect. The illustrative word, vessel, is a term for pottery, often used as a metaphor for people since God is compared to a potter (see Romans 9:20-23).

What’s the connection between honor and pottery? We tend to think of weakness in terms of inferiority. But in pottery, the finer a vessel is, the more valuable it is. Anyone can make a bulky old piece of stoneware for everyday use, but a piece of fine china — a Grecian urn — a Ming vase — a Tiffany lamp — Waterford crystal — that’s the work of a master. You handle that with respect and care. You put it in a special place where people can admire it. You make sure nobody does anything to break it. In a word, you honor it.

Its weakness doesn’t mean it’s more dependent. It means it’s more valuable.

The point of the verse is not, “Remember that your wife is weak, like a piece of china.” It’s, “Treat your wife with honor, just as you would treat the fine work of a master craftsman.”

The idea that “weaker” should be understood as “inferior” is demolished once and for all when we see the last major modification:

It says heirs, not inferiors. The misquoted version above leaves out the entire second half of the verse. That’s suspicious. Once we see what the omitted part says, the game is up. The reason husbands should treat their wives with understanding and honor, according to the verse itself, is this:

“…since they are heirs with you of the grace of life…”

They are heirs with you. They’re not your inferiors or subordinates or dependents. They don’t need your protection or covering or authority to stand before God. They stand shoulder to shoulder with you as equal recipients of God’s grace. They get the same divine adoption as you. They get the same spiritual life as you. They get the same inheritance as you. According to the very same verse that’s been manhandled to say that women are inferior to men, women are equal to men.

The irony is spectacular. Like Proverbs 31, this verse is written to tell husbands to be uplifting and affirming to their wives, to treat them well, even to look up to them. (Yes, that Proverbs 31; see In Search of the Ideal Proverbs 31 Single Man.) Yet for inscrutable reasons, it’s used to put women down, used as a bludgeon of learned helplessness. Misusing and twisting the verse that badly is like interpreting “Give me liberty or give me death” as an affirmation of slavery.

Far from being a trivial point, this is tied to a husband’s spiritual well-being: Do this, says Peter, “so that your prayers may not be hindered.” To belittle your wife — to fail to be understanding, to see her as less than equal, to dishonor her, to teach her helplessness — puts a serious cramp in your spiritual life. “If I had cherished iniquity in my heart,” says the psalmist, “the Lord would not have listened” (Psalm 66:18). God takes a very dim view of it when we treat people inequitably.

Listen up, men: To treat your wife, or any woman, as though she is inferior to you in any way is to commit a grave and terrible sin. It maligns the very image of God. To put such sentiments in the mouth of God is to blaspheme. If you’ve ever thought or acted otherwise, now would be a very good time to repent. Repent for believing and propagating the unfair treatment of God’s image. Accept God’s view of His creation as valuable, honorable, precious. Treat your wife right — with understanding, honor, respect, and dignity.

Repentance brings us back to the Gospel. Beyond this verse, the context of the chapter is the Gospel itself: “For Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God” (1 Peter 3:18). Read the verse without seeing the context of the Gospel, and you might get legalism or chauvinism or misogyny. Focus on the Gospel, and suddenly you find the unbroken threads of love, grace, and mercy.

The Gospel is directly and deeply related to the way husbands treat their wives. God has chosen His people to be the bride of Christ (Revelation 19:7). “This is a great mystery,” writes Paul regarding marriage, “but I speak concerning Christ and the church” (Ephesians 5:32). “I will betroth you to me forever,” God says through the prophets (Hosea 2:19). “For your Maker is your husband,” says Isaiah (54:5). “As a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you” (Isaiah 62:5). “‘Return, faithless people,’ declares the LORD, ‘for I am your husband’” (Jeremiah 3:14).

That means we all are “weaker vessels.”

And that means the way that verse says husbands should treat their wives is the way our Bridegroom treats us– with understanding and honor and self-sacrifice.

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. (Romans 5:6)

…but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong… (1 Corinthians 1:27)

Christ, our Bridegroom, takes weaker vessels and puts them in places of honor. God transforms vessels of wrath into vessels of mercy. God fills earthen vessels of weakness with His Holy Spirit. It doesn’t matter if you’re weak or strong, Jew or Gentile, male or female, slave or free. We all stand side by side as joint heirs of the grace of life.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. …

Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.

(2 Corinthians 4:7-10, 16-18 NASB)

 

Image sources: [1], [2], [3]

Editor’s note: This article originally appeared on Eric Pazdziora’s blog and is a fitting response to NLQ commenter, “Matt” whose views on women as “weaker vessels” are highlighted here.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum! Comments are also open below.

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NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/02/07/the-myth-of-the-weaker-vessel/feed/ 7 Young patriarch tells it like it is: Woman indeed is the weaker vessel; Sodomites hate God, and infiltrate churches to spit in God’s face … Am I controlling for keeping my woman away from these evil men? Then so be it. http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/02/05/young-patriarch-tells-it-like-it-is-woman-indeed-is-the-weaker-vessel-sodomites-hate-god-and-infiltrate-churches-to-spit-in-gods-face-am-i-controlling-for-keeping-my-woman-away-from-these-evi/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/02/05/young-patriarch-tells-it-like-it-is-woman-indeed-is-the-weaker-vessel-sodomites-hate-god-and-infiltrate-churches-to-spit-in-gods-face-am-i-controlling-for-keeping-my-woman-away-from-these-evi/#comments Sun, 05 Feb 2012 17:24:46 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=16080 Trigger warning: patronizing, misogyny, homophobia...) Last night, a patriarch-in-training named "Matt" spent a lot of time reading and commenting on the NLQ FAQ: What Is Quiverfull? It's possible that Matt is a troll and his comments should be ignored or deleted - but his arguments are not at all unlike the "biblical" beliefs which I heard taught/preached regularly during my Quiverfull days. I am assuming Matt is a young man based on his immaturity and know-it-all attitude - of course, given that patriarchs rarely grow up, it's possible that he is an old man - maybe he's the pastor of an IFB church. So, without further ado - here's Matt:
I take it from your post that you are dead set on fornicating, although the Bible tells you not to do that. “Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body.” “Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing. Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself.” “This is a great mystery: but I speak concerning Christ and the church. Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband.” You are mistaking voluntary submission with involuntary servitude. As a Christian lady you are commanded to be subject to your husband, it is asked of you to submit. It doesn’t say “men, oppress your woman to all costs!”. As a Christian woman who claims to believe in the Word of God, which is inspired/breathed by God, your Creator, is it alright for you to dismiss what that Word says? A woman surrenders to a man so easily when he takes charge. That is the danger of having a matriarch with a man in subjection. The woman indeed is the weaker vessel, tossed to and fro, giving in to whims, and judges things according to her motherly instinct. For instance, she would say sodomite couplings are lovely, because love is blind. A man who is not of God would say “I don’t care, to each their own”, but not mention love in the equation. A man of God would not even let a sodomite in under his roof or in the vincinity of his children!! Let me tell you something, love is not blind! Even infatuation is not blind. But infatuation and love are two different things. Love is a choice. Hate is a choice. I will hate the wicked and their deeds. Yes, hate. Furthermore, sodomites hate God, and infiltrate churches to spit in God’s face. You might say, “sodomites love each other, so what’s wrong with that”? I love my siblings, does that mean I have sexual relations with them?! I love men, as brothers. I love women, as sisters. But by God, there is only one person I take sexual pleasure in! Love is not sex. Learn it, woman. So, if you’re a Christian woman, your God that you supposedly love, tells you to submit and be in subject to your husband in every thing. Am I a jealous man? Every man of God should be jealous! Just as God is jealous, and wants us only to worship him. And why am I jealous? Because the woman is the weaker vessel, and evil men who have acknowledged this takes advantage, to defile you.

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]]> (Trigger warning: patronizing, misogyny, homophobia...)

Last night, a patriarch-in-training named “Matt” spent a lot of time reading and commenting on the NLQ FAQ: What Is Quiverfull?

It’s possible that Matt is a troll and his comments should be ignored or deleted – but his arguments are not at all unlike the “biblical” beliefs which I heard taught/preached regularly during my Quiverfull days. I am assuming Matt is a young man based on his immaturity and know-it-all attitude – of course, given that patriarchs rarely grow up, it’s possible that he is an old man – maybe he’s the pastor of an IFB church.

So, without further ado – here’s Matt:

I take it from your post that you are dead set on fornicating, although the Bible tells you not to do that.

“Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body.”

“Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing. Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself.”

“This is a great mystery: but I speak concerning Christ and the church. Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband.”

You are mistaking voluntary submission with involuntary servitude. As a Christian lady you are commanded to be subject to your husband, it is asked of you to submit. It doesn’t say “men, oppress your woman to all costs!”. As a Christian woman who claims to believe in the Word of God, which is inspired/breathed by God, your Creator, is it alright for you to dismiss what that Word says?

A woman surrenders to a man so easily when he takes charge. That is the danger of having a matriarch with a man in subjection. The woman indeed is the weaker vessel, tossed to and fro, giving in to whims, and judges things according to her motherly instinct. For instance, she would say sodomite couplings are lovely, because love is blind. A man who is not of God would say “I don’t care, to each their own”, but not mention love in the equation. A man of God would not even let a sodomite in under his roof or in the vincinity of his children!! Let me tell you something, love is not blind! Even infatuation is not blind. But infatuation and love are two different things. Love is a choice. Hate is a choice. I will hate the wicked and their deeds. Yes, hate. Furthermore, sodomites hate God, and infiltrate churches to spit in God’s face. You might say, “sodomites love each other, so what’s wrong with that”? I love my siblings, does that mean I have sexual relations with them?! I love men, as brothers. I love women, as sisters. But by God, there is only one person I take sexual pleasure in! Love is not sex. Learn it, woman.

So, if you’re a Christian woman, your God that you supposedly love, tells you to submit and be in subject to your husband in every thing. Am I a jealous man? Every man of God should be jealous! Just as God is jealous, and wants us only to worship him.

And why am I jealous? Because the woman is the weaker vessel, and evil men who have acknowledged this takes advantage, to defile you.

“This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away. For of this sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts, ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

I’m telling you, there’s a lot of weak vessels, silly women, out there, who ungodly men lie in wait for. Am I controlling for keeping my woman away from these evil men? Then so be it. Yes, I am in control, but I love my woman enough to grant her freedom of thought and expression. She is as intelligent as I am, but still the weaker vessel, due to her willingness to surrender and submit to a man who takes charge. Ask yourself, how many men adopt the interests and beliefs of their wives? None. How many women adopts the interests and beliefs of their husbands? They are in abundance. It is clear that a woman submits to a man who rules her, even to the point of abuse, I’m sad to say. Therefore a Christian man is told to love his woman as himself. What man would abuse himself? He may abuse drugs or alcohol but not himself.

Discuss Matt’s ignorance on the NLQ forum.  Comments are also open below.

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NLQ Recommends ...

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‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

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]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/02/05/young-patriarch-tells-it-like-it-is-woman-indeed-is-the-weaker-vessel-sodomites-hate-god-and-infiltrate-churches-to-spit-in-gods-face-am-i-controlling-for-keeping-my-woman-away-from-these-evi/feed/ 35 The Destiny of a Virtuous Daughter ~ Part 5: Not My Will http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/01/24/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-5-not-my-will/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/01/24/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-5-not-my-will/#comments Tue, 24 Jan 2012 14:17:31 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=16051
by Starfury
Anthony and I maintained a long-distance courtship until shortly before I turned 18, whereupon he moved to where I was safely ensconced at a conservative Catholic university. Our arguments grew in number when we spent more time together, but I pretended nothing was wrong. After all, I should feel guilty. He was trying to encourage me to grow spiritually when I wasn't willing to take chances and trust in God. Still, I loved him, and even though I hated how he told me what to do at times, I knew it was in my best interest. That spring, he drove me home from school, where my parents were waiting. Unexpectedly, they called us in to discuss the state of our relationship. Having only received encouragement from them throughout the year, we were a little startled at this, but went willingly. They confronted us with concerns brought to them by a family we attended church with; we were not emotionally or spiritually mature enough, and our relationship was moving too quickly, especially physically. My first reaction was anger and hurt that they would suggest I had broken my vows of purity (which I had not). The next concern was what was meant by too fast? We were courting, and as far as I was led to understand, that meant we were involved in a serious relationship with marriage as the goal. I was certain I wanted to marry him. Physically, we kissed on the cheek and hugged and held hands. Spiritually, I pointed out to my parents that he was challenging and encouraging me in my walk. Undaunted by our arguments and defenses, my parents decreed that they did not feel we were ready for this relationship. To illustrate this point, and help us grow as respective individuals, they were instituting a one year moratorium on our relationship. We were not breaking up, but merely putting a pause on the way things were. During this time, we were to have absolutely no contact with each other, whatsoever. Flabbergasted, we had no choice but to accept.

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by Starfury

Anthony and I maintained a long-distance courtship until shortly before I turned 18, whereupon he moved to where I was safely ensconced at a conservative Catholic university. Our arguments grew in number when we spent more time together, but I pretended nothing was wrong. After all, I should feel guilty. He was trying to encourage me to grow spiritually when I wasn’t willing to take chances and trust in God. Still, I loved him, and even though I hated how he told me what to do at times, I knew it was in my best interest.

That spring, he drove me home from school, where my parents were waiting. Unexpectedly, they called us in to discuss the state of our relationship. Having only received encouragement from them throughout the year, we were a little startled at this, but went willingly. They confronted us with concerns brought to them by a family we attended church with; we were not emotionally or spiritually mature enough, and our relationship was moving too quickly, especially physically.

My first reaction was anger and hurt that they would suggest I had broken my vows of purity (which I had not). The next concern was what was meant by too fast? We were courting, and as far as I was led to understand, that meant we were involved in a serious relationship with marriage as the goal. I was certain I wanted to marry him. Physically, we kissed on the cheek and hugged and held hands. Spiritually, I pointed out to my parents that he was challenging and encouraging me in my walk.

Undaunted by our arguments and defenses, my parents decreed that they did not feel we were ready for this relationship. To illustrate this point, and help us grow as respective individuals, they were instituting a one year moratorium on our relationship. We were not breaking up, but merely putting a pause on the way things were. During this time, we were to have absolutely no contact with each other, whatsoever. Flabbergasted, we had no choice but to accept.

I was hurt and angry and broken on the inside. I felt like they didn’t trust me anymore, and I didn’t understand. I was mature enough to go to college, and to start a relationship, but now they had to put it on hold, citing that I wasn’t mature enough to continue it… but wouldn’t break it off altogether. That summer I made the decision to move out, transferring to a college near some friends, and I moved in with them.

I had multiple opportunities to enter into contact with Anthony, but I didn’t want be so willfully disobedient. I had honour thy parents hanging over my head, despite the aching of my heart. I avoided conversations with him on my blog, on forums we were both on, and tried instead to concentrate on prayer, fasting, and spiritual growth. Inwardly, I was crying to the Theotokos and asking her what I had done wrong to deserve this.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum!

Read all posts by Starfury

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NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/01/24/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-5-not-my-will/feed/ 0 Bring Me The Flaming Head Of Barbie! – Adventures In Recovery http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/01/08/bring-me-the-flaming-head-of-barbie-adventures-in-recovery/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/01/08/bring-me-the-flaming-head-of-barbie-adventures-in-recovery/#comments Sun, 08 Jan 2012 16:21:32 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=16026 by Calulu A few weeks ago I was witnessing internet wide that one thing is certain. Just about everyone has a strong reaction to the news that Michelle Duggar is enceinte again. Of course I snicked like the sarcastic wise-cracking gal I am and some of us tossed around those hoary old chestnuts we always say when discussing Duggar child bearing. “It's a vagina not a clown car” and “Looks like Jim Bob tossed the hotdog down the well again” In most of the online discussion of how dangerous her playing maternal Russian roulette actually is no one seemed to hit upon my first thought, how quickly would Jim Bob replace her with a newer, younger, prettier model. I mean, really, it's like shooting dice, eventually snake eyes is going to come up. Bad things happen if you keep repeating the same risky behavior. Look at the last of her pregnancies. Something did go wrong. It's just simple statistics that sometimes things go haywire and we can't do much about them. But why put yourself in those types of risky situations in the first place? Back when I was with my old church I got to see this numerous times. Lady either gets pregnant that probably shouldn't be or would contract a very serious illness. They'd start praying, asking for prayer but refusing medical monitoring or intervention by the medical world at all. They say the same things Michelle Duggar does about this is God's will and God would either deliver her safely or He would heal her. One of the saddest cases of this was a lady named Christina who contracted breast cancer and refused all medical treatments, saying only God alone would heal her. She wasn't going to have any surgery, no chemo, no radiation, she would simply rely on God. Everyone at church supported her decision. Except for me. I'd had a bout with breast cancer many years ago, had the joyous fun (it wasn't fun, I'm just joking) of surgery, chemo, radiation till I beat the cancer. Oh heck, I had chemo four summers ago for my auto immune problems. Big deal, so your hair falls out, you get the excuse to wear lots of fun hats. It is what it is, a temporary season. If it turned out that solving my ongoing immune problems meant eating a bowl of cockroaches or something even more disgusting I'd say 'Gimme a spoon and a bottle of Tabasco sauce right now!' Not getting health care while you have children in the home to finish raising is just irresponsible. But the men of the church always had medical intervention, and it never seemed to strike anyone there that was some sort of warped double standard. I never understood why that was so I'm guessing the lack of serious health care was because in the world of Fundy-Gelicals women were without intrinsic value and considered interchangeable. Christina died after an agonizing torturous 18 months. What did did Mr. Christina do? He did what I've witnessed a number of Patriarchal men have done. He collected that big insurance check, bought a sports car and within six months married a much younger, better looking, newer model. And the cycle continued. Even our Pastor did it, boom, wife dies of cancer, 9 months later Pastor has another wife and life goes on as before.

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by Calulu

A few weeks ago I was witnessing internet wide that one thing is certain. Just about everyone has a strong reaction to the news that Michelle Duggar is enceinte again. Of course I snicked like the sarcastic wise-cracking gal I am and some of us tossed around those hoary old chestnuts we always say when discussing Duggar child bearing. “It’s a vagina not a clown car” and “Looks like Jim Bob tossed the hotdog down the well again”

In most of the online discussion of how dangerous her playing maternal Russian roulette actually is no one seemed to hit upon my first thought, how quickly would Jim Bob replace her with a newer, younger, prettier model.

I mean, really, it’s like shooting dice, eventually snake eyes is going to come up. Bad things happen if you keep repeating the same risky behavior. Look at the last of her pregnancies. Something did go wrong. It’s just simple statistics that sometimes things go haywire and we can’t do much about them. But why put yourself in those types of risky situations in the first place?

Back when I was with my old church I got to see this numerous times. Lady either gets pregnant that probably shouldn’t be or would contract a very serious illness. They’d start praying, asking for prayer but refusing medical monitoring or intervention by the medical world at all. They say the same things Michelle Duggar does about this is God’s will and God would either deliver her safely or He would heal her.

One of the saddest cases of this was a lady named Christina who contracted breast cancer and refused all medical treatments, saying only God alone would heal her. She wasn’t going to have any surgery, no chemo, no radiation, she would simply rely on God.

Everyone at church supported her decision. Except for me. I’d had a bout with breast cancer many years ago, had the joyous fun (it wasn’t fun, I’m just joking) of surgery, chemo, radiation till I beat the cancer. Oh heck, I had chemo four summers ago for my auto immune problems. Big deal, so your hair falls out, you get the excuse to wear lots of fun hats. It is what it is, a temporary season. If it turned out that solving my ongoing immune problems meant eating a bowl of cockroaches or something even more disgusting I’d say ‘Gimme a spoon and a bottle of Tabasco sauce right now!’

Not getting health care while you have children in the home to finish raising is just irresponsible.

But the men of the church always had medical intervention, and it never seemed to strike anyone there that was some sort of warped double standard. I never understood why that was so I’m guessing the lack of serious health care was because in the world of Fundy-Gelicals women were without intrinsic value and considered interchangeable.

Christina died after an agonizing torturous 18 months. What did did Mr. Christina do? He did what I’ve witnessed a number of Patriarchal men have done. He collected that big insurance check, bought a sports car and within six months married a much younger, better looking, newer model. And the cycle continued. Even our Pastor did it, boom, wife dies of cancer, 9 months later Pastor has another wife and life goes on as before.

Then and now it struck me as a basic lack of respect for any woman to hold them all so interchangeable. The Barbie Syndrome. The sad part is that we all put up with this behavior at the time and thought we were holding up the image of the Good Christian Woman, never realizing that culture considers us as unique as an assembly line of Barbies.

I hope and pray that Michelle Duggar makes it out in one piece from this latest pregnancy. But if she doesn’t I predict a marriage for Jim Bob within a year to a younger, prettier, newer wife. And the breeding will continue.

I never liked Barbie with her perpetual fake smile.

Authors note: Since this was written Michelle Duggar has lost her newest pregnancy and mourned in the most repugnant public way possible. At least it strikes me that way. While I wish Ma Duggar no harm I wish wish wish someone would drag her off of television as soon as possible. That photo used at her website and at the funeral of her baby’s tiny hand haunts my dreams.

Discuss this post on the NLQ Forum. Comments are also open below.

Calulu lives near Washington DC , was raised Catholic in South Louisiana before falling in with a bunch of fallen Catholics whom had formed their own part Fundamentalist, part Evangelical church. After fifteen uncomfortable years drinking that Koolaid she left nearly 6 years ago.  Her blog is Calulu – Roadkill on the Internet Superhighway

Read all posts by Calulu!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2012/01/08/bring-me-the-flaming-head-of-barbie-adventures-in-recovery/feed/ 14 Daughter of the Patriarchy: Admissions http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/12/15/daughter-of-the-patriarchy-admissions/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/12/15/daughter-of-the-patriarchy-admissions/#comments Thu, 15 Dec 2011 12:56:27 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=16004 by Sierra “When I was your age, my parents wouldn't send me to college,” my mother was telling me. “I had to work my way through on my own. I don't want you to have to stop. I will do everything I can to help you keep going to school. Your education is the most important thing to me.” We stood in the kitchen, a printed letter lying on the counter between us. It was not good news. I glanced up at my mother with a strained smile. I knew that if wishes could be cashed at the bank, I'd be writing my admissions essay to an ivy-coated castle. Instead, I was trying to find a way to pay the bill from my last semester of community college in time to register for fall classes. It was already August. My work at Wal-Mart paid eight-fifty an hour: better than all the other work options for teenagers in the area. My schedule was already as close to full-time as it could be without requiring the company to offer me benefits. My hands were tied: I could take another part-time job, but when would I go to school? It was all I could do to keep our car paid for and insured while my mother handled the rent and utilities. College tuition had slipped between more pressing matters like food and transportation, and dragging it back to current status again would not be easy. Still, I was grateful to have a mother who dared to disagree with the life track laid out before me. A Catholic turned evangelical, my mother was a radical believer in forging new paths. She had, after all, followed her heart out of her family's religion when I was still a toddler. Going to college was my chance to discover what God had in store for me as an individual, she thought. I knew already that beliefs like these made my mother an outsider, a liberal and a radical in my church of stay-at-home daughters and unremitting parental supervision. What I did not yet know was how short and how tight the bonds were that held my friends. “Why don't you fill out your FAFSA?” my mother suggested. “Maybe you can get grants or student loans. They might offer you more if you apply to a four-year school. Let's drive around and look for a college where you can transfer your credits. I loved Rowling College on sight. The sprawling green lawn, ancient shady oaks and dark grey stone of its oldest building washed over me in a wave of color and charm. “It looks like a little Harvard,” I told my mother breathlessly. A more culturally adept young woman might have said it looked like Hogwarts. The admissions counselor radiated warmth and hope. She beamed at my community college transcripts. No, it didn’t matter that I didn’t have SATs, she said. My grades proved that I could handle introductory classes. I felt a bubble of excitement rising in my throat, and firmly swallowed it. I would assume that this all was beyond my grasp, I decided. If it proved true, I would be pleasantly surprised. If it didn’t, I would not allow myself to feel the disappointment. I can go back to college later, I reasoned. There is a manager position opening at my store.

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“When I was your age, my parents wouldn’t send me to college,” my mother was telling me. “I had to work my way through on my own. I don’t want you to have to stop. I will do everything I can to help you keep going to school. Your education is the most important thing to me.”

We stood in the kitchen, a printed letter lying on the counter between us. It was not good news.

I glanced up at my mother with a strained smile. I knew that if wishes could be cashed at the bank, I’d be writing my admissions essay to an ivy-coated castle. Instead, I was trying to find a way to pay the bill from my last semester of community college in time to register for fall classes. It was already August.

My work at Wal-Mart paid eight-fifty an hour: better than all the other work options for teenagers in the area. My schedule was already as close to full-time as it could be without requiring the company to offer me benefits. My hands were tied: I could take another part-time job, but when would I go to school? It was all I could do to keep our car paid for and insured while my mother handled the rent and utilities. College tuition had slipped between more pressing matters like food and transportation, and dragging it back to current status again would not be easy.

Still, I was grateful to have a mother who dared to disagree with the life track laid out before me. A Catholic turned evangelical, my mother was a radical believer in forging new paths. She had, after all, followed her heart out of her family’s religion when I was still a toddler. Going to college was my chance to discover what God had in store for me as an individual, she thought. I knew already that beliefs like these made my mother an outsider, a liberal and a radical in my church of stay-at-home daughters and unremitting parental supervision. What I did not yet know was how short and how tight the bonds were that held my friends.

“Why don’t you fill out your FAFSA?” my mother suggested. “Maybe you can get grants or student loans. They might offer you more if you apply to a four-year school. Let’s drive around and look for a college where you can transfer your credits.

I loved Rowling College on sight. The sprawling green lawn, ancient shady oaks and dark grey stone of its oldest building washed over me in a wave of color and charm. “It looks like a little Harvard,” I told my mother breathlessly. A more culturally adept young woman might have said it looked like Hogwarts.

The admissions counselor radiated warmth and hope. She beamed at my community college transcripts. No, it didn’t matter that I didn’t have SATs, she said. My grades proved that I could handle introductory classes. I felt a bubble of excitement rising in my throat, and firmly swallowed it. I would assume that this all was beyond my grasp, I decided. If it proved true, I would be pleasantly surprised. If it didn’t, I would not allow myself to feel the disappointment. I can go back to college later, I reasoned. There is a manager position opening at my store.

I was only half fooling myself. As I sipped the coffee and marveled at the expensive upholstery in the admissions office, I imagined myself striding up the long path to the college’s double doors, each step declaring, “I belong here.”

“What are your career goals?” the admissions counselor asked me.

“I want to go to graduate school and become a writer,” I said. Then, daringly, “I want to go to Harvard.” Saying it aloud sounded absurd, but there it was. The story of the homeless girl who had walked through its gates gave me not only the dream, but the audacity to name it.

The counselor smiled. “We’ll get you to Harvard.” Rowling had sent students there before. Other students had sat in this chair and then gone on to great things. Why indeed couldn’t I?

The next two weeks were spent working and trying not to think about whether or not my application would be approved. My retired friend Jim, the store greeter, welcomed my news and bolstered my hopes. “That’s good,” he told me. “You should go to college. You’re smart. Get the hell out of here while you’re young.” I grinned, and told him I intended to do so. I could still hear my community college teacher’s words in the back of my mind. You could be a writer. You could go to grad school. Graduate school seemed like the most glamorous place in the world.

Meanwhile, my friends at a sister church were catching the education fever. I learned of their ambitions in a phone call with their ambassador: Jennifer. A tall, active, tomboyish young woman, Jennifer had gone out of her way to befriend me on the basis of our shared connection with my best friend Sven. Despite the fact that her church was in Connecticut and mine in Pennsylvania, she kept in touch via the internet and periodically came to visit. Demographically, our churches seemed destined to be a match: her youth group was comprised mainly of girls, whereas mine was overwhelmingly slanted toward the boys. That spring, I’d been invited to spend a week at Jennifer’s house, where I’d met her circle of friends and found myself in the strange position of what felt like the ambassador from Land of Raining Men. It appeared that my church had been sighted as a hunting ground for husbands. Knowing that we were expected not to be unequally yoked with unbelievers, I suppressed my disgust with the contrivance of it all and dutifully related the names and ages of the potential suitors that I knew, possessively avoiding Sven’s. A decade had taught me that he was safe: passive and uncontrolling. A girl who had no intentions of obedience had first to ensure that she’d never be ordered to do anything.

As I told Jennifer about my nascent college plans, she burst out in excitement: “We’re going too! A bunch of us are applying to Bob Jones University.”

Bob Jones? I’d heard that name before. Other homeschooling families in my church used Bob Jones textbooks. My mother had discarded them as dull and political, opting for the more flexible and artistic Sonlight curriculum instead. I had no idea that Bob Jones had founded a university, nor (as I was just realizing) did I have any idea who Bob Jones really was.

“I told my dad that it would be okay since we won’t be going alone,” Jennifer continued. “We’ll watch out for each other. It’s a Christian college. We won’t have to worry about drinking or partying or any of that. You should come with us!”

I froze. Rowling College’s wrought-iron lampposts and immaculate lawn flashed in front of my eyes. I want to go to a real school, came the unstoppable silent protest. I was immediately wracked with guilt. What do you have against Bob Jones? I asked myself furiously. How do you know it’s not a “real” school? But the steely voice in my head would not be silenced. I don’t care if this makes me a terrible, judgmental person. I want to go to a real school, and that does not include Bob Jones.

“Maybe,” I answered finally, failing to muster any enthusiasm. I told my mother nothing, fearful that she would think it was a good idea and my Rowling plans would evaporate before my eyes.

I slept fitfully that night. I pictured myself bursting through the chains that had held me in one place for too long, only to find myself swept away into a dreary black-and-white encampment. I saw the dull stone halls filled with good Christian husbands, all grey and lifeless. I saw the parade of unthreatening ideas, the inevitable fight against the Trinity but the ultimate surety of everything else. A silent scream welled up inside me. Away in the distance there stood the gates of Rowling, vibrant with promise, a dark channel separating me from them. I wanted to jump, to take the greatest risk, to grapple with the edges of the chasm and yank myself up. I feared the abyss not because I would be striking something unknown, but because I was afraid that I’d never know anything else. Bob Jones University, that good Christian college, in its very safety and certainty struck me with terror. I could not go where Jennifer went, even if it meant giving up everything.

Later that week, as I finished a shift at Wal-Mart and returned my tray to the manager, I heard my mother call my name. I turned to see her striding rapidly toward me, waving an envelope.

She couldn’t hold it in. “You were accepted!” she cried.

I scrambled for the letter and held it up before my eyes in shock. My frantic eyes struggled to focus. Rowling had taken me in. I was in! I was a real college student. With scholarships. The store spun and danced around me. I was dimly aware of my Wal-Mart managers grinning and patting me on the back. All I could see was the small black print: “Congratulations!”

As I studied my admissions package that night, I learned that I would be starting classes in a week. My first semester was paid for. I would only have to cover my books. I would even be moving onto campus! Since my room and board were covered under my scholarship package, it would cost more to commute. Apprehensively, I filled out my roommate survey. “Likes to read,” I wrote. “Very quiet. Early riser.” The excitement outweighed my nervousness. I would get to live on campus! I would get to eat in the cafeteria and study in the library. It was all so overwhelmingly new.

I was giddy as I called Jennifer to tell her the good news. When she answered, however, I knew that mine was a solitary joy. The tide had shifted. The sisterhood of Bob Jones would never be.

“What happened?” I asked.

“The elders of my church had a special meeting,” she sighed. “They decided that it wasn’t right for young women to go away together and live on their own. They said we would be too far away from our fathers’ headship.”

I hung up the phone with tears of rage stinging my eyes. Just like that, my friends’ futures had been sealed, their hopes crushed, their homes transformed into prisons. The doors of opportunity had slammed shut, and I stood alone on the outside. A cold fear settled on my shoulders, Frantically, I began packing my belongings, looking ahead to my move-in date with trepidation. If I could just move onto campus, I would be safe then. I would never come back, never be caught, never be caged. I thanked God for my faithless father, knowing now that only the “headless” state of my family permitted my escape. As I stuffed t-shirt after modest t-shirt into my luggage, I wept for my friends. There was nothing godly about this, nothing loving, nothing just. The girls had done everything right, but it was not enough. No amount of prayer or planning would be enough to let mere women follow their dreams, unsupervised.

If I make it to college, I promised God, I will work with all my might. I will take every opportunity in sight. I will not squander this gift.

For the next six days, I waited for the hammer to fall.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum.

Sierra is a PhD student living in the Midwest. She was raised in a “Message of the Hour” congregation that followed the ministry of William Branham. She left the Message in 2006 and is the author of the blog The Unspoken Words: A Non-Prophet Message.

Read all posts by Sierra!

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NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/12/15/daughter-of-the-patriarchy-admissions/feed/ 1 How Modesty Made Me Fat http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/11/22/how-modesty-made-me-fat/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/11/22/how-modesty-made-me-fat/#comments Tue, 22 Nov 2011 12:39:58 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=15804 by Sierra This isn’t a story about how modest clothes allowed me to “let myself go” and conceal a growing figure. It’s not even a story about how wearing modest clothes kept my self-esteem at rock bottom and thrust me into a too-close relationship with Ben & Jerry. It’s a story about how modesty doctrines impacted my mind, in ways that had real, negative effects on my body. Modesty was one of the reasons my defining relationship with my body became whether or not I was “fat.” Modesty was one of the engines that pushed me into a full-blown eating disorder. It’s not just a dress code: it’s a philosophy, and it’s one that destroys young women, mentally and physically. Modesty taught me that my first priority needed to be making sure I wasn’t a “stumbling block” to men. Not being sexually attractive was the most important thing I had to consider when buying clothes, putting them on, maintaining my weight (can’t have things getting tight!), and moving around (can’t wiggle those hips, or let a little knee show). Modesty taught me that what I looked like was what mattered most of all. Not what I thought. Not how I felt. Not what I was capable of doing. Worrying about modesty, and being vigilant not to be sexy, made me even more obsessed with my looks than the women in short shorts and spray tans I was taught to hate. Modesty taught me that I was always on display. There was no occasion in which it was acceptable to be immodest. Not the beach, not at the pool with friends, not in my own backyard (sunbathing was out because a neighbor might glance over and see me). This took my normal self-consciousness as a teenage girl and amped it up to an impossible degree. I once had a bee fly down my (acceptably loose) shirt and, in flailing around to get it out, had a family member comment that I’d just “flashed” my own grandfather. I was horrified for the rest of the week. That’s not normal. The normal order of priorities is getting dangerous animals out of your clothing first, and then worrying about making your own relatives perv on you second. Not so with the modesty doctrine. I should have let it sting me, apparently. Getting stung was the lesser risk. Modesty was not just about dress. It was also about moving like a lady. Knees together, butt down, breasts in, arms down. It is impossible to get physically fit while adhering to ladylike movements only. You might be able to run, but only if you wear two sports bras to keep anything from jiggling inappropriately. You certainly can’t do anything with weights. In college, I had the chance to join a horseback riding team for a couple of semesters. I soon realized that staying on the horse required starting some kind of fitness regimen. In the gym, I found a couple of hip abductor/adductor machines that were handy for building the thigh strength necessary to grip the horse. The problem? I was so embarrassed that somebody might walk in front of me while I was on the machine with my legs spread that I started going to the gym the moment it opened in the morning and avoiding exercise when men were present. In this instance, modesty was literally keeping me weak. Eventually, I grew comfortable enough with my own body to exercise without worrying about other people happening to look at me. Now, I do an exercise routine that would have scandalized my old self: squats, deadlifts, and barbell rows. I have so much more energy and my mood is so much improved – plus, I can move my own furniture! But I couldn’t have got to this point without dumping the modesty doctrine. Because I couldn’t concentrate on hauling iron while worried that some perv behind me might happen to glance my way and pop his gym shorts. That’s not my job anymore. I’m not responsible for men’s souls, because I no longer think of myself as an object to be looked at and evaluated.

Full post ...

]]> by Sierra

This isn’t a story about how modest clothes allowed me to “let myself go” and conceal a growing figure. It’s not even a story about how wearing modest clothes kept my self-esteem at rock bottom and thrust me into a too-close relationship with Ben & Jerry. It’s a story about how modesty doctrines impacted my mind, in ways that had real, negative effects on my body. Modesty was one of the reasons my defining relationship with my body became whether or not I was “fat.” Modesty was one of the engines that pushed me into a full-blown eating disorder. It’s not just a dress code: it’s a philosophy, and it’s one that destroys young women, mentally and physically.

Modesty taught me that my first priority needed to be making sure I wasn’t a “stumbling block” to men. Not being sexually attractive was the most important thing I had to consider when buying clothes, putting them on, maintaining my weight (can’t have things getting tight!), and moving around (can’t wiggle those hips, or let a little knee show). Modesty taught me that what I looked like was what mattered most of all. Not what I thought. Not how I felt. Not what I was capable of doing. Worrying about modesty, and being vigilant not to be sexy, made me even more obsessed with my looks than the women in short shorts and spray tans I was taught to hate.

Modesty taught me that I was always on display. There was no occasion in which it was acceptable to be immodest. Not the beach, not at the pool with friends, not in my own backyard (sunbathing was out because a neighbor might glance over and see me). This took my normal self-consciousness as a teenage girl and amped it up to an impossible degree. I once had a bee fly down my (acceptably loose) shirt and, in flailing around to get it out, had a family member comment that I’d just “flashed” my own grandfather. I was horrified for the rest of the week. That’s not normal. The normal order of priorities is getting dangerous animals out of your clothing first, and then worrying about making your own relatives perv on you second. Not so with the modesty doctrine. I should have let it sting me, apparently. Getting stung was the lesser risk.

Modesty was not just about dress. It was also about moving like a lady. Knees together, butt down, breasts in, arms down. It is impossible to get physically fit while adhering to ladylike movements only. You might be able to run, but only if you wear two sports bras to keep anything from jiggling inappropriately. You certainly can’t do anything with weights. In college, I had the chance to join a horseback riding team for a couple of semesters. I soon realized that staying on the horse required starting some kind of fitness regimen. In the gym, I found a couple of hip abductor/adductor machines that were handy for building the thigh strength necessary to grip the horse. The problem? I was so embarrassed that somebody might walk in front of me while I was on the machine with my legs spread that I started going to the gym the moment it opened in the morning and avoiding exercise when men were present. In this instance, modesty was literally keeping me weak. Eventually, I grew comfortable enough with my own body to exercise without worrying about other people happening to look at me. Now, I do an exercise routine that would have scandalized my old self: squats, deadlifts, and barbell rows. I have so much more energy and my mood is so much improved – plus, I can move my own furniture! But I couldn’t have got to this point without dumping the modesty doctrine. Because I couldn’t concentrate on hauling iron while worried that some perv behind me might happen to glance my way and pop his gym shorts. That’s not my job anymore. I’m not responsible for men’s souls, because I no longer think of myself as an object to be looked at and evaluated.

Backing up to before I got to college, modesty contributed to my eating disorder. How? Because I noticed that the best way to keep men from staring at my ass was not to have one. Ditto boobs. The skinnier I got, the less womanly I looked, and the more “modest” I felt, until I was 25lbs underweight. I was perpetually “fat” in my own mind – because in my own mind, the only acceptable body type was an androgynous one – one that could not possibly provoke a man to lust. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why that was a bad thing.

Modesty taught me that I was a decoration. Everything about my life was governed by whether or not a man was watching. How I moved and what I ate or wore all depended on the male gaze. Modesty taught me that nothing I did mattered more than avoiding sexual attention. Modesty made me objectify myself. I was so aware of my own potential desirability at all times that I lost all other ways of defining myself. I couldn’t work out or get fit without worrying about attracting men. I couldn’t relax my eating habits for a moment lest my shirts start to pull a little in the chest. I couldn’t grow like a normal human adolescent because staying slim and sexless was the biggest priority in my world.

When you argue that what’s modest and what isn’t is a valid concern for women, you tell them that their appearance matters most. You objectify them. You tell them that whether or not you are sexually aroused by their actions or their dress is more important than anything they want to do or wear. You tell them that they must, at all times, be thinking aboutyou when they are making decisions about their own lives. That’s arrogant. That’s immoral.

When you argue that modesty is just a “debate” that must be won by those whose arguments are strongest in the abstract, you ignore the fact that the “debate” has consequences you don’t have to live with. Women have to live with the consequences of modesty debates. Those debates impact every sphere of their lives: work, play, even their own health and wellbeing. If you think that, as a man, you can somehow argue “objectively” about what women should or shouldn’t wear and “win” a debate fair and square, let me remind you of a few things. If a man “loses” a modesty debate, nothing about his life changes. If a man “wins” a modesty debate, nothing about his life changes. But if a woman loses a modesty debate, the entire fabric of her existence changes. If a woman loses a modesty debate, she has lost whole areas of freedom in her life. She now has more things to worry about not doing so that men will not get aroused. There is no such thing as an “objective” argument in which the stakes are astronomical for one side and nonexistent for the other. Furthermore, by even accepting modesty as a valid area of concern for women, you have accepted a premise that defines women by their looks and objectifies them. Women have already lost the moment a modesty debate begins.

Modesty made me “fat” because it defined my relationship with my body in terms of appearance. Not action. Not gratitude. Not the joy of movement. Just appearance. It also defined my relationship with men as one of predator and prey. It was my job to hide from men so that their sex drive would lie dormant, like a sleeping wolf. But if that wolf ever awakened, it was not because it had been sleeping for a long time and its circadian rhythm kicked in, or it was just naturally hungry. It was my fault because I had done something to “bait” the wolf. Just by being visibly female, or by moving in “unladylike” ways. You cannot consider women full human beings unless you recognize that their lives do not revolve around the male sex drive. Modesty is a philosophy that dehumanizes. It incites constant fear and vigilance in one sex while excusing the other of all responsibility. It’s immoral.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum. Comments are also open below.

Sierra is a PhD student living in the Midwest. She was raised in a “Message of the Hour” congregation that followed the ministry of William Branham. She left the Message in 2006 and is the author of the blog The Unspoken Words: A Non-Prophet Message.

Read all posts by Sierra!

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NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/11/22/how-modesty-made-me-fat/feed/ 22 The Destiny of a Virtuous Daughter ~ Part 4: Have Mercy on Me, a Sinner http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/11/08/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-4-have-mercy-on-me-a-sinner/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/11/08/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-4-have-mercy-on-me-a-sinner/#comments Tue, 08 Nov 2011 14:57:14 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=15683
by Starfury At 15, I was finally given the female role models I had longed for. My family converted to Eastern Orthodoxy, and I embraced it wholeheartedly. No longer did I have to pray only to God, but I had the Theotokos to turn to.. someone who could understand me as a girl. After our conversion, my prayer to God (whether the Father or the Son) diminished greatly, and I prayed often to both Mary and St. Katherine the Great-Martyr. I was searching for unconditional love and acceptance, and it was hard to see it in the God who would stand judging you when you died. It was easier to find it in a woman who watched her son be crucified. Regardless, I was determined to do things right. I still had to be the perfect daughter, only this time I had confession to help hold me accountable. I wasn't content to just be Orthodox... I had to be the best I could. I made the effort to fast more... not just from meat, but from dairy as well, and during the Great Fasts, I abstained from fish on Wednesdays and Fridays. I felt guilty going to confession, and I found myself spending more time alone in the woods in tears. I felt that I was doing the same things wrong, that I was struggling with the same sins over and over. I wondered if the priest kept count, if he thought I would never learn... I was trying to do my best, I really was. I followed daily prayer, I read my Bible, I said the Jesus prayer over and over on my prayer rope, I learned about the saints and their feast days, I attended every Liturgy and daily service I could. There was still something that I was doing wrong, there had to be. I still struggled with my temper, I still wanted things that didn't quite line up with wife and mother, and my mother and I still had a rocky relationship.

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by Starfury

At 15, I was finally given the female role models I had longed for. My family converted to Eastern Orthodoxy, and I embraced it wholeheartedly. No longer did I have to pray only to God, but I had the Theotokos to turn to.. someone who could understand me as a girl. After our conversion, my prayer to God (whether the Father or the Son) diminished greatly, and I prayed often to both Mary and St. Katherine the Great-Martyr.

I was searching for unconditional love and acceptance, and it was hard to see it in the God who would stand judging you when you died. It was easier to find it in a woman who watched her son be crucified.

Regardless, I was determined to do things right. I still had to be the perfect daughter, only this time I had confession to help hold me accountable. I wasn’t content to just be Orthodox… I had to be the best I could. I made the effort to fast more… not just from meat, but from dairy as well, and during the Great Fasts, I abstained from fish on Wednesdays and Fridays.

I felt guilty going to confession, and I found myself spending more time alone in the woods in tears. I felt that I was doing the same things wrong, that I was struggling with the same sins over and over. I wondered if the priest kept count, if he thought I would never learn… I was trying to do my best, I really was. I followed daily prayer, I read my Bible, I said the Jesus prayer over and over on my prayer rope, I learned about the saints and their feast days, I attended every Liturgy and daily service I could.

There was still something that I was doing wrong, there had to be. I still struggled with my temper, I still wanted things that didn’t quite line up with wife and mother, and my mother and I still had a rocky relationship.

Things continued for two years, until I turned 17. I began a courtship… a courtship where the gentleman in question asked my father’s permission, and we waited to say “I love you” until we were given permission. We held hands for the first time that day, and I was elated to have someone who was converting to Orthodoxy as my beau.

Even from the early days of our courtship, though, Anthony (name changed for privacy’s sake) was a constant reminder that I wasn’t as ascetic as I should be. He pointed out that I was too drawn to worldly things, and I should be more interested in the eternal. It wasn’t what clothes I wore, or the size of my heels, or whether I wore makeup that mattered, but how many times a day I prayed and how well I followed the mandates of the Church. He bought me books written by nuns, and talked about entering the priesthood.

I was against his constant strife for asceticism from the start. I didn’t want to live like monks. I didn’t want to be a priest’s wife, either. We had arguments about it, but how could I argue with someone who wanted to be holy? How could I express what I wanted, without coming across as selfish and too obsessed with the ways of the world? The saints didn’t always want to follow their callings, and this was far less unpleasant!

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NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/11/08/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-4-have-mercy-on-me-a-sinner/feed/ 0 The Destiny of a Virtuous Daughter ~ Part 3: Pop Guns & Purity Rings http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/27/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-3-pop-guns-purity-rings/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/27/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-3-pop-guns-purity-rings/#comments Thu, 27 Oct 2011 12:16:48 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=15573
by Starfury
Growing up, I read books like The King's Daughter, Dear Princess, Beautiful Girlhood, Waiting for Her Isaac, and The Courtship of Sarah MacLean over and over. I would plan out having twenty six children, so I could use every letter of the alphabet when I named them. I would try to devise my own homeschool curriculum based on the ones I had used, and what I liked and didn't like about them. On top of all that, I was writing my own Proverbs 31 devotional. And yet, somewhere in all of this, I was still punching things into a "computer" on a tree, and yelling for everyone to get out and climb the Jeffries Tubes because of a warp core breach. Rather than make a hoop skirt, I made a Confederate general's uniform for the end of unit celebration. I was almost fifteen, the homeschool convention was happening over my birthday, and I wanted two things: a Vision Forum pop gun, and a purity ring from Generations of Virtue. I got both. They probably assumed the pop-gun would do little harm, after all, I had seven brothers and probably wanted to use it on them, until I tired of it and returned to my books and daydreams. The people at the Vision Forum booth looked a little more wary when they saw my dad hand the pop-gun over to me, but I didn't care. After all, I'd grown up fashioning blasters out of Legos with my brothers, so we could play at Star Wars or Star Trek. Now I just had a gun that actually made noise when you shot it!

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by Starfury

Growing up, I read books like The King’s Daughter, Dear Princess, Beautiful Girlhood, Waiting for Her Isaac, and The Courtship of Sarah MacLean over and over. I would plan out having twenty six children, so I could use every letter of the alphabet when I named them. I would try to devise my own homeschool curriculum based on the ones I had used, and what I liked and didn’t like about them. On top of all that, I was writing my own Proverbs 31 devotional.

And yet, somewhere in all of this, I was still punching things into a ”computer” on a tree, and yelling for everyone to get out and climb the Jeffries Tubes because of a warp core breach. Rather than make a hoop skirt, I made a Confederate general’s uniform for the end of unit celebration. I was almost fifteen, the homeschool convention was happening over my birthday, and I wanted two things: a Vision Forum pop gun, and a purity ring from Generations of Virtue.

I got both.

They probably assumed the pop-gun would do little harm, after all, I had seven brothers and probably wanted to use it on them, until I tired of it and returned to my books and daydreams. The people at the Vision Forum booth looked a little more wary when they saw my dad hand the pop-gun over to me, but I didn’t care. After all, I’d grown up fashioning blasters out of Legos with my brothers, so we could play at Star Wars or Star Trek. Now I just had a gun that actually made noise when you shot it!

I spent hours trying to decide on a purity ring. I wanted one with meaning, and I wanted it to be pretty. Besides, the more time I spent there, the more likely I was to convince my parents that I really wanted the newest Ludy book. After we picked up the purity ring, my dad and I had a talk about what it meant. I told him what I wanted, and I promised to remain pure until marriage.

Looking back, I wonder why I was promising things at 14 that were so far in the future. I was blissfully ignorant of the concept of ideas and people changing, and in my naivete, I assumed that what I thought on that day would still hold true in 5 years. Even if it didn’t, I had the guilt of breaking promises hanging over my head.


Discuss this post on the NLQ forum!

Read all posts by Starfury

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NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/27/the-destiny-of-a-virtuous-daughter-part-3-pop-guns-purity-rings/feed/ 0 Me? Obey Him? http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/23/me-obey-him/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/23/me-obey-him/#comments Sun, 23 Oct 2011 13:42:42 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=10112 "Me? Obey Him?" by Elizabeth Rice Handford. Trigger warning for former Quiverfull believers who actually read this book and tried to live according to the principles ... this post is a disturbing trip down memory lane. by Vyckie Garrison Those fortunate enough to have never actually read "Me? Obey Him?" may be shocked and appalled by the teachings in support of "biblical patriarchy."  This review is simply quotations of Handford's own words (in italics), followed by comments from my personal experience as a former Quiverfull Believer. God's Perfect Creation Required Order Jesus, the Creator of Heaven and earth, submitted Himself to God the Father.  He took His place in the chain of command. ... It is no shame, no dishonor,  for a woman to be under authority, if the Lord Jesus -- very God Himself -- submitted to the authority of the Father. (p. 14) The submission of the Lord Jesus is our example.  He submitted not just to the tender ministrations of the Father.  He submitted to revilings and curses, persecution and suffering.  He was our example, not just to obey a gentle and kind husband but a harsh and mean husband as well. You may find that your obedience to your husband and your obedience to God are all tied together.  You may not want to obey your husband because you are in rebellion against God. (p. 51) By intimately linking Christ's willing subjection to God the Father with a woman's submission to her husband in "the chain of command," the teachings of patriarchy create such an intricate tangle of enmeshment that it's nearly impossible for an abused woman to extricate herself from the bondage of her husband's tyranny without also throwing off her spiritual bond with Christ. Kristen Rosser, who writes the FAQs for No Longer Quivering, is currently working on an article which will address the popular Christian teachings on the absolute necessity of hierarchy - coming soon ... Woman's Nature Requires Obedience We've had the impression that women as a class are more spiritually minded than men, with sensibilities more refined, and purer thoughts. Scriptures say the opposite is true!  Women are more often led into spiritual error than men.  Perhaps it is caused by her intuitive, emotional thinking.  (Intuitive thinking is God's gift, not to be despised, but it needs the balance of a man's reason.)  I should add too, that a woman does not have to be led into error.  That is the reason God commanded her not to usurp authority over the man, so she can be protected from false doctrine. (p. 17) Sexist generalizations are never useful in understanding human relationships. In reality, I am no less rational than my (ex)husband.  He also is gifted with a strong intuition and emotional intelligence.  Convinced as we were that I was more susceptible to Satanic deception, our family was deprived of my reasonable input in decision making.  My intelligence was squelched, my intuition was distrusted and my feelings were denied.  My husband developed an artificially inflated sense of his own powers of logic.  I can't count how many times he said to me, "What you are saying sounds reasonable, but how do I know that Satan is not using you to deceive me?"  I had no good defense.  According to the Scriptures, we had every reason to believe that I was indeed being used to lead my husband astray. His authority and my obedience did not protect us from tragic deception which ripped apart our family. What Do the Scriptures Say About a Wife's Obedience? Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Scriptures say a woman ought to obey her husband! ...  [Note, these ellipses represent page after page of scriptural support given by Handford to bolster her argument that God commands wives to obey their husbands.] If you are intellectually honest, you will have to admit that it is impossible to find a single loophole, a single exception, an "if" or "unless."  The Scriptures say, without qualification, to the openminded reader, that a woman ought to obey her husband. (pp. 24, 25) 1) She Is to Obey Regardless of His Spiritual Condition The wife who obeys her husband may win him by her meek and quiet spirit, her loving behavior. (p. 25) 2) She Need Not Fear Conflicting Authority There is no hint that a woman may have to choose between conflicting authority. ...  If it is needed in order to fulfill both obligations, God will do a miracle to make it possible. ... It is safe to conclude that when God told a woman to obey her husband, He intended for her to be able to do it without risk of offending other authorities. (pp. 25, 28) 3) She Obeys Without Reference to Her Feelings About the Will of God The Scriptures say a woman must ignore her "feelings" about the will of God, and do what her husband says.  She is to obey her husband as if he were God Himself.  She can be as certain of God's will, when her husband speaks, as if God had spoken audibly from Heaven! (p. 28 - emphasis added) When a concerned friend reported our family to Child Protective Services, my ex-husband lost custody of the children due to his abuse.  The social worker told me that I was guilty of "failure to protect."  The only thing that prevented me from having my parental rights terminated and my children placed in foster care was my willingness to submit to a full psychological evaluation, undergo individual and family counseling, and cooperate with random unannounced home visits by Social Services. My older children rightfully blame me for not protecting them against their father's abuse.  Even though they know that I was influenced by books such as "Me? Obey Him?" to believe that it was God's will to submit to the abuse, my children cannot be fooled into thinking that I was not really responsible for their suffering.  I have apologized for my neglect.  Most of my children have forgiven me -- still, the damage is done and some things can't (and shouldn't) be forgotten.

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]]> A review of “Me? Obey Him?” by Elizabeth Rice Handford. Trigger warning for former Quiverfull believers who actually read this book and tried to live according to the principles … this post is a disturbing trip down memory lane.

by Vyckie Garrison

Those fortunate enough to have never actually read “Me? Obey Him?” may be shocked and appalled by the teachings in support of “biblical patriarchy.”  This review is simply quotations of Handford’s own words (in italics), followed by comments from my personal experience as a former Quiverfull Believer.

God’s Perfect Creation Required Order

Jesus, the Creator of Heaven and earth, submitted Himself to God the Father.  He took His place in the chain of command. … It is no shame, no dishonor,  for a woman to be under authority, if the Lord Jesus — very God Himself — submitted to the authority of the Father. (p. 14)

The submission of the Lord Jesus is our example.  He submitted not just to the tender ministrations of the Father.  He submitted to revilings and curses, persecution and suffering.  He was our example, not just to obey a gentle and kind husband but a harsh and mean husband as well.

You may find that your obedience to your husband and your obedience to God are all tied together.  You may not want to obey your husband because you are in rebellion against God. (p. 51)

By intimately linking Christ’s willing subjection to God the Father with a woman’s submission to her husband in “the chain of command,” the teachings of patriarchy create such an intricate tangle of enmeshment that it’s nearly impossible for an abused woman to extricate herself from the bondage of her husband’s tyranny without also throwing off her spiritual bond with Christ.

Kristen Rosser, who writes the FAQs for No Longer Quivering, is currently working on an article which will address the popular Christian teachings on the absolute necessity of hierarchy – coming soon …

Woman’s Nature Requires Obedience

We’ve had the impression that women as a class are more spiritually minded than men, with sensibilities more refined, and purer thoughts. Scriptures say the opposite is true!  Women are more often led into spiritual error than men.  Perhaps it is caused by her intuitive, emotional thinking.  (Intuitive thinking is God’s gift, not to be despised, but it needs the balance of a man’s reason.)  I should add too, that a woman does not have to be led into error.  That is the reason God commanded her not to usurp authority over the man, so she can be protected from false doctrine. (p. 17)

Sexist generalizations are never useful in understanding human relationships.

In reality, I am no less rational than my (ex)husband.  He also is gifted with a strong intuition and emotional intelligence.  Convinced as we were that I was more susceptible to Satanic deception, our family was deprived of my reasonable input in decision making.  My intelligence was squelched, my intuition was distrusted and my feelings were denied.  My husband developed an artificially inflated sense of his own powers of logic.  I can’t count how many times he said to me, “What you are saying sounds reasonable, but how do I know that Satan is not using you to deceive me?”  I had no good defense.  According to the Scriptures, we had every reason to believe that I was indeed being used to lead my husband astray.

His authority and my obedience did not protect us from tragic deception which ripped apart our family.

What Do the Scriptures Say About a Wife’s Obedience?

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Scriptures say a woman ought to obey her husband! …  [Note, these ellipses represent page after page of scriptural support given by Handford to bolster her argument that God commands wives to obey their husbands.] If you are intellectually honest, you will have to admit that it is impossible to find a single loophole, a single exception, an “if” or “unless.”  The Scriptures say, without qualification, to the openminded reader, that a woman ought to obey her husband. (pp. 24, 25)

1) She Is to Obey Regardless of His Spiritual Condition

The wife who obeys her husband may win him by her meek and quiet spirit, her loving behavior. (p. 25)

2) She Need Not Fear Conflicting Authority

There is no hint that a woman may have to choose between conflicting authority. …  If it is needed in order to fulfill both obligations, God will do a miracle to make it possible. … It is safe to conclude that when God told a woman to obey her husband, He intended for her to be able to do it without risk of offending other authorities. (pp. 25, 28)

3) She Obeys Without Reference to Her Feelings About the Will of God

The Scriptures say a woman must ignore her “feelings” about the will of God, and do what her husband says.  She is to obey her husband as if he were God Himself.  She can be as certain of God’s will, when her husband speaks, as if God had spoken audibly from Heaven! (p. 28 – emphasis added)

When a concerned friend reported our family to Child Protective Services, my ex-husband lost custody of the children due to his abuse.  The social worker told me that I was guilty of “failure to protect.”  The only thing that prevented me from having my parental rights terminated and my children placed in foster care was my willingness to submit to a full psychological evaluation, undergo individual and family counseling, and cooperate with random unannounced home visits by Social Services.

My older children rightfully blame me for not protecting them against their father’s abuse.  Even though they know that I was influenced by books such as “Me? Obey Him?” to believe that it was God’s will to submit to the abuse, my children cannot be fooled into thinking that I was not really responsible for their suffering.  I have apologized for my neglect.  Most of my children have forgiven me — still, the damage is done and some things can’t (and shouldn’t) be forgotten.

What If a Husband Expressly Commands Something Explicitly Wrong?

When women ask me this question, I counter with two of my own:

1) “Have you been living in daily obedience to your husband as part of your wholehearted, loving submission to God?”

(This is an essential part of the problem. If a woman has not been submissive, God has no responsibility for her situation and cannot be blamed if her husband requires something wrong.)

2) “Has your husband ever actually commanded you to do something wrong?”

In the hundreds of times I have asked these questions, not once, if my memory is right, has a woman answered, “Yes, I am always obedient, and yet my husband has required me to break one of God’s laws.”

Never! Why?

Because, when a woman takes God at His word, submits to her husband without reservation, fears God and loves Him, then God takes upon Himself the responsibility to see that a woman does not have to sin! (pp. 37, 38)

Many non-Christians can at least appreciate Jesus as a good moral teacher, but I have come to think of my 25+ year walk with God as the perfect example of a codependent relationship.  To me, having “the mind of Christ” means thinking like a battered woman:  It’s really all my fault that He treats me so poorly.  If only I were a better person, He wouldn’t have to make me suffer.  He only does it when I disobey — to test my love for Him or to teach me a much-needed lesson. I don’t deserve His love.  I am so thankful that He puts up with me! Without Him, I am nothing.

Even if a woman can honestly claim to have been perfectly submissive, if her husband nevertheless commands her to do wrong, God still gets off the hook.  But, “Me? Obey Him?” gives the godly woman a promise so that she is not without hope: perhaps the Lord will kill her evil husband!!

A man always has the choice of saying yes or no to God.  He can reject the pleadings of the Spirit, the pleas of his loving wife.  If he does, and he goes on his wicked way, then I have seen God reach down and take that man’s life, rather than make his wife choose between two wrongs. (p. 40)

The Lord did not rescue us from abuse by killing my husband — even though, I’m embarrassed and ashamed now to say, I did pray He would do so after reading this passage in Handford’s book.  No — it was up to me to put a stop to the abuse.  My only regret in seeking divorce is that I didn’t do it sooner.

Don’t I Have Any Rights?

Can you find a Kleenex somewhere and mop up the tears, just for a minute, long enough to talk to me about what your rights really are?

You don’t have any rights, no rights at all.  You lost them on the day you rebelled against God.  You lost them, not because you are a woman, but because you are a sinner, just as I am.  (p. 49)

Handford goes on to argue that, having been purchased by Christ’s blood, we become His bondservants (slaves) who ought to be glad to do anything He tells us to do.  This teaching that I was a slave to Christ translated into me also being a slave to my husband.  I had no right to expect decent treatment for myself and our children.  My husband owned me and was perfectly within his rights to demand that I comply with his every whim.  If his desires seemed selfish, petty, or abusive, who was I to protest?  If I would have rebelled against his wishes, then I would be guilty of witchcraft (1 Samuel 15:23) and subject to demonic control.  I was told that either God was in control of my life (in the guise of my husband), or else Satan was in control of my life.  The only power I had was to choose which one would control me.

You Have the Freedom From the Consequences of Decisions

When you give back to your husband the responsibility for the direction of the home and the making of the decisions, you also give him the responsibility for the consequences of his decisions. … Fortunately, that’s the way a man likes it.  God made a man to be aggressive, to respond to challenge, to glory in his manhood, to rejoice in draining his strength, to risk great hazards for the one he loves.  It is his very aggressiveness that a woman sometimes finds frightening, simply because she is a woman.  She doesn’t have confidence in her physical strength, in her ability to cope with danger, in her decision-making ability.  It is a privilege, a gift unearned, for a woman to have a man take upon himself her welfare. (p 56)

What Handford fails to mention here is that the wife and children have to live with the consequences of the husband’s decisions.  Reality persists.  In actual fact, if a woman turns over all authority to her husband, and he blows it, she is nevertheless responsible by abdication for the resultant predicament in which the family finds itself.  Perhaps God will not hold the submissive woman responsible for her husband’s squandering of the household funds, but her children’s hollow eyes will haunt her all the same.

The male aggressiveness which I feared was, in fact, strengthened when I catered to my husband — much as a bully becomes increasingly malevolent until his targeted prey dares to stand up to him.  My insecurities regarding decision-making and my ability to cope worsened as I was never permitted an opportunity to prove to myself that I could deal with challenging situations.

God has a wonderful way of working it out for the comfort of the whole family when a woman leaves the decision making to her husband. (p. 57)

Wishful thinking much?

Don’t I Ever Get to Express an Opinion?

When you are talking over a problem, if it isn’t asking too much, try to think reasonably. … Men think women talk too much about how they feel, rather than considering facts.  Sure it’s important how you feel.  Can you tell him why you feel that way? (p. 61)

There is a word for this contemptuous insult: Misogyny.  It means, hatred of women.  Anyone who thinks so little of women should be afforded zero credibility when it comes to handing out marital advice.

Why Do I Have to Make All the Concessions?

Why doesn’t the husband have to do his part first? Why?  Because you are the one burdened for a Christian home.  Having a home where Christ is the head is cheap enough at whatever price you have to pay!  Think how long the rewards of a good Christian home will last.  Then ask yourself if it is worth the trifling mortifications of obedience.  Of course it is!  All valuable things cost something.  Certainly you will have to pay a price. (p. 69)

A relationship in which one party must make all the concessions has nothing to do with love and everything to do with power and control.  It is unhealthy, dysfunctional, unsustainable, and perverse. It is not good for the wife and it is not good for the husband either.

The “mortifications of obedience” in my marriage were not trifling.  I was not the only one who had to pay the price.  Patriarchy took a terrible toll on my children: physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.  We are still paying the price to this day.  Sadly, the promised rewards of a good Christian home never actually materialized for us.

But What If His Influence on the Children Is Bad?

Then make sure your influence on the children is good.  Let them see a mother who loves God and keeps His commandments by obeying her husband!  Your influence, by God’s grace, can counteract the bad influences a father can have.  … Obey God. Obey your husband.  God will see to it that bad influences on the children are countered. (pp. 72, 74)

My children will tell you that this simply is not true.  Day after day, week after week, year after year, my husband’s anger and control wore the children down.  They learned his bad habits.  His hatred and criticism destroyed their enthusiasm for life.

  • I submitted, he dominated.  The children learned that in all relationships there is an imbalance of power — better to be the person in power.

Over and over, I prayed for the Lord to help me counteract my husband’s negative influence.  Despite my desperate pleadings, the reality was that he had way more energy, he could lecture for hours and hours without a break, he spent more time with the children while I was on continual bedrest either pregnant or recovering from pregnancies/deliveries.  Plus, he had all the power — so which of us would the children want to emulate?  Certainly not me and my martyrdom.

I Want to Do Right, But I Can’t Help How I Feel

Have you noticed how many Scriptures there are that command a wife to obey her husband, and how few Scriptures there are that command her to love her husband?  There is only one Scripture, to my knowledge, that tells a wife to love him, and that is Titus 2:4.  Why?  Because, I think, in a marvelous, supernatural way, submission brings love.  If you obey him, you will love him, love him more than you ever dreamed possible.  (p. 75)

The principle which Handford is describing here actually has a name.  It’s called Stockholm syndrome.  As defined by Wikipedia, Stockholm syndrome is a term used to describe a paradoxical psychological phenomenon wherein hostages express adulation and have positive feelings towards their captors that appear irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims, essentially mistaking a lack of abuse from their captors as an act of kindness.

I learned this coping mechanism well in my own abusive marriage.  Whenever I felt the natural repulsion and lack of love engendered by my husband’s poor treatment of me and the children, I forced myself to become even more submissive to him.  I was following Jesus’ admonition to turn the other cheek and to repay evil with good.  Guess what?  It worked!!  In no time, the good, positive feelings returned and I was once again feeling incredible love for my husband.

But this trick of my mind was not a good thing as it enabled me to endure the abuse — to rationalize and justify my husband’s behavior even when the children and I were clearly suffering harm.

Does It Work? Does It Really Work?

God has made a promise to the woman who will obey her husband.  He keeps His promises.  He will not honor disobedience, no matter what excuse is given for it.  A woman wins her husband, draws him to a higher spiritual plane, by a submissive, quiet spirit.  … Yes, it really works.  God will bless your home if you are obedient. (p. 77)

It really works! … Unless it doesn’t work, in which case, it’s all the woman’s fault.  This guaranteed recipe for success cannot be proven false because the “no liability” clause is inseparable from the key ingredient: perfect obedience.  Not blessed?  Not His/his fault.  The woman is solely responsible for every failure.

For the Sake of the Children, Submit

In any unresolved conflict between husband and wife, there is always great danger to the marriage, however trivial its beginning.  Children instinctively know the sanctity of the home itself is endangered when there is conflict over who is boss. Not only will children suffer from fear, they will also learn from a rebellious mother her rebellion against authority. … The children will learn rebellion and rebel against you and your husband.  Then they will resent all authority: the school, the boss, the policeman, the structure of life itself. (p. 86)

Conflict in marriage is normal.  The absence of conflict is a sign that one (or both) of the partners has been demoralized and dehumanized.  Holding an opinion and caring about it is a big part of what it means to be alive.  Working through conflict, listening to each others’ differing perspectives and learning to compromise is the way mature couples learn and grow. Marriage does not have to be a power struggle.  Nobody has to be “the boss.”  Mutuality makes a happy, satisfying relationship for both husband and wife.

Children who witness healthy parents dealing constructively with the inevitable disagreements of daily life are learning valuable conflict resolution skills.

I thought that I was providing much-needed security for my children when I continually assured them that their father and I would never divorce.  They told me later that to them, my unwavering committment sounded like a death sentence.

It was not until I began standing up for myself and the children against their father’s unreasonable demands that he quit acting like a two-year-old and began to take responsibility for his own actions.  Witnessing me challenge their father’s authority did not turn my children into rebels — it was living with a bully which made them revolt.  When I took a stand, the children learned healthy boundaries: both to insist on their own boundaries and to respect the boundaries of others.

For Your Husband’s Sake, Obey

Imagine how quickly a man would turn his steps homeward in the evening, after a day of grappling with the world, if the woman who waited for him met him with words of tenderness on her lips instead of a set of ultimatums. … If it matters at all to you about the man you have promised to love until parted by death, for his well-being and joy, for his usefulness to God, obey him! (pp. 87, 88)

When I indiscriminately submitted to my husband’s every whim, I was not treating him like a grown-up man. I was treating him like a spoiled child.  Taking on the responsibility for his “well-being and joy” stripped him of self-respect and enabled him to avoid the consequences of his own poor choices.  Filing for divorce was, in fact, the first time I showed true respect to my husband since before we learned about and accepted the teachings of patriarchy.  Finally I was saying to him, “You are an intelligent, sane adult and therefore, you must live with the consequences of your behavior.”

A man whose wife is a spineless doormat is actually more likely to stray from home as he seeks a companion who challenges and engages him on an adult level.

For Your Own Welfare and Happiness, Yield

There’s a strange paradox in Scripture, echoed in many places: If you would live, you must die (John 12:24).  If you would keep your life, you must lose it (Matt. 10:39).  If you would be free, you must submit yourself a slave to Christ (Rom. 6:18).  And there is one more paradox which must be taken by faith as well: if you would know true freedom, you must submit to your husband’s authority.  Obedience certainly has its great and final reward in Heaven, but it also has the present tangible reward. … Obedience brings happiness! (p. 88)

Again, wifely submission is intimately linked to one of the central messages of Christianity.

What Elizabeth Rice Handford doesn’t want you to know is that this same argument, these same verses, in fact, were used by Christian slaveholders to justify their ownership of fellow human beings.

Stop for a moment and actually read the following verses:

Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ. Obey them not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but like slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart. Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not men, because you know that the Lord will reward everyone for whatever good he does, whether he is slave or free. (Eph. 6:5-8 — the same section of Ephesians in which Paul commands wives to submit to their husbands.)

To sweeten the deal, proponents of biblical slavery would remind slaves that serving the Lord meant serving their masters – but this is not burdensome because the Bible also commands masters to treat their slaves kindly:

And masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him. (Eph. 6:9 — with such a Christ-like master, why wouldn’t a slave willingly submit?)

Sound familiar?  Teachers of wifely submission are always quick to point out that while God insists that women obey their husbands, we must remember that husbands are likewise instructed to love their wives as Christ loved the church.  So that makes the subjection and subordination of women okay … just like slavery, right?  After all, the bible commands both women and slaves to submit and obey.

Virtually no Christians today advocate slavery.  The verses commanding slaves to obey their masters have not been removed from the bible or discredited, yet we have laws against people owning people. Ask Christians why they believe that slavery is evil when the bible does not condemn slave owners and, in fact, commands slaves to obey their masters, and you will receive a myriad of responses: You have to consider the context and the culture; God was not condoning slavery, only acknowledging its common practice and providing guidelines to make it more humane, etc.  What you will not hear — ever — is a Christian who replies, “The bible commands slaves to obey their masters.  Therefore, slavery is God’s will and faithful Christians must practice slavery to be in the will of God. Obedient slaves are happy slaves.”

Think about it.  Why don’t we still practice slavery?  Why?

Slavery is wrong.  It is dehumanizing, unjust,  inequitable, immoral and inconsistent with the Golden Rule.  It does not matter that the bible commands slaves to obey their masters – we all know that slavery is wrong, wrong, wrong.

How do we know that slavery is wrong when the bible does not tell us so?  Answer that question and you will also understand that it doesn’t matter how many times the bible commands women to obey and submit to their husbands – we know instinctively that the subordination of women is just plain wrong. For the same reasons that we dismiss and ignore the bible commands for slaves to obey their masters, we should also feel free to disregard the bible commands for wives to obey their husbands.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum.  Comments are also open below.

Read all posts by Vyckie Garrison.

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]]> http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/23/me-obey-him/feed/ 33 Justice is No Lady: Chapter 9 – Terrorists, Far and Near http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/06/justice-is-no-lady-chapter-9-terrorists-far-and-near/ http://nolongerquivering.com/2011/10/06/justice-is-no-lady-chapter-9-terrorists-far-and-near/#comments Thu, 06 Oct 2011 12:38:41 +0000 nolongerquivering http://nolongerquivering.com/?p=15500 Warning: This story series contains descriptions of physical abuse. by Tess Willoughby September 11, 2001. This dark day united all Americans in horror, in terror, and in pain. With at least one exception: Nate Willoughby. I found out that our country had been attacked using our own commercial aircraft when my mother called me from town and said, “Turn on the news.” Her tone of voice suggested the worst of the worst of the worst: so awful that you didn’t ask “what channel?” because it didn’t matter what channel. The president had been assassinated. There was some horrific, unthinkable natural disaster, probably in Virginia. Something so bad she couldn’t say it. I hung up, turned on the TV and watched the Twin Towers burn, holding the phone in my hand. The phone rang. I hit the answer button. Nate lit into me about how I needed to come back to him and I was in rebellion against God and would probably go to hell. I swallowed and sat on the floor and said, “Are you aware that terrorists have attacked New York City? The World Trade Center is burning!” Nate said, “Who cares. We’re talking about my life.” I hung up on him and sobbed and choked in front of the TV until I didn’t have any more strength to cry. How mean and insane was my husband? How would I ever get away from this vindictive bastard without being destroyed? Was Nate even human? Was my country’s government about to fall? How many more planes had been hijacked, and what would blow up next? It felt as though my own personal hell had unleashed national horrors and worldwide chaos. The lid had blown off life itself and nothing venerable, nothing precious, nothing good could stand. My own personal, religious zealot terrorist had gone global somehow and the world was burning and crumbling to the ground; nothing and nobody was safe from crazy men with extreme religious agendas. Post-traumatic stress does funky things with your brain. That September, I believed that I had landed in a world without personal boundaries, without national security: a world of merciless anarchy where freedom was not only impossible but a joke and and an illusion. A world where terrorists could strike anywhere and nightmarish, ruinously expensive court hearings never ended, but God was silent. I believed that I could lose absolutely everything, even my nation. If not for my parents, I would have lost my sanity.

Full post ...

]]> Warning: This story series contains descriptions of physical abuse.

by Tess Willoughby

September 11, 2001. This dark day united all Americans in horror, in terror, and in pain.

With at least one exception: Nate Willoughby.

I found out that our country had been attacked using our own commercial aircraft when my mother called me from town and said, “Turn on the news.” Her tone of voice suggested the worst of the worst of the worst: so awful that you didn’t ask “what channel?” because it didn’t matter what channel. The president had been assassinated. There was some horrific, unthinkable natural disaster, probably in Virginia. Something so bad she couldn’t say it.

I hung up, turned on the TV and watched the Twin Towers burn, holding the phone in my hand.

The phone rang. I hit the answer button. Nate lit into me about how I needed to come back to him and I was in rebellion against God and would probably go to hell.

I swallowed and sat on the floor and said, “Are you aware that terrorists have attacked New York City? The World Trade Center is burning!”

Nate said, “Who cares. We’re talking about my life.”

I hung up on him and sobbed and choked in front of the TV until I didn’t have any more strength to cry. How mean and insane was my husband? How would I ever get away from this vindictive bastard without being destroyed? Was Nate even human? Was my country’s government about to fall? How many more planes had been hijacked, and what would blow up next? It felt as though my own personal hell had unleashed national horrors and worldwide chaos. The lid had blown off life itself and nothing venerable, nothing precious, nothing good could stand. My own personal, religious zealot terrorist had gone global somehow and the world was burning and crumbling to the ground; nothing and nobody was safe from crazy men with extreme religious agendas.

Post-traumatic stress does funky things with your brain. That September, I believed that I had landed in a world without personal boundaries, without national security: a world of merciless anarchy where freedom was not only impossible but a joke and and an illusion. A world where terrorists could strike anywhere and nightmarish, ruinously expensive court hearings never ended, but God was silent. I believed that I could lose absolutely everything, even my nation. If not for my parents, I would have lost my sanity.

My divorce lawyer had been worn down by Nate’s bullying to the breaking point. She was pushing me to agree to a no-fault divorce with all legal issues reserved for later. She would do nothing to get me any permanent alimony, nothing to get me any property, nothing to get me permanent custody of my children, nothing to help me with the personal injury suit, nothing at all except to sign a no-fault divorce decree now that the year-long waiting period was over.  She made it clear that I had no choice in this—in order to continue to represent me, she would have to hire additional staff to keep up with Nate, who had her completely buried in paperwork.

My lawyer was quitting, and she hated to bring it up but. . .I owed her $30,000.00. When my dad and I couldn’t pay any more, she put me on a payment plan. When we couldn’t make the payments, she turned me over to a collection agency. That collection agency, Chase and Citibank (Nate had credit cards in my name, remember?) called me every day.

Nate paid no child support, of course. He had a child support matter filed in court (the first of six), and was appealing the alimony, so would not be sending a dime while a decision or appeal was pending. Because the children and I were on public assistance, I got Legal Aid in Virginia Beach, but they would only help with the equitable distribution matter because of limited resources. On the custody/alimony/ child support matter, and the personal injury matter, I was on my own; I would have to drive six hours and represent myself.  Another lawyer in Virginia Beach was unaffordable.

Why so many matters? Why so many cases? you may be wondering. The judges found it more economical for the court to farm out the matters to multiple judges rather than one judge hearing the whole mess, since Nate files multiple motions per hearing and rants and raves for hours. Every separate matter in turn quickly became a legal swamp with its own morass of motions to respond to, discovery to answer, and subpoenas to move to quash. Litigating with Nate has always been like fighting the Hydra. You lop off one hearing but that hearing spawns three more hearings; answer one motion and get three more in the mail; quash one subpoena and get notice of three more. In Virginia, a lawyer can file his own subpoenas without going through any court, so Nate subpoenaed everything and everybody he could think of for every hearing. He quickly overwhelmed the whole judicial population of the Virginia Beach Circuit Court. The first judge, who returned Moriah to me after her dad kidnapped her out of school, stepped down after Nate filed a writ of mandamus against her with the Virginia Supreme Court.

Legal Aid got me nothing in equitable distribution except the stuff I ran away with. The judge ruled that I kept what I had in my possession and Nate kept what he had in his possession. Nate had taken out a second mortgage on our house without my knowledge, plus run up the debut on the credit cards, and so Nate persuaded the judge that in order to split the property 50/50, it was only fair that the marital debt also be divided 50/50. The judge bought this argument, and I got nothing. Not even the children’s toys.

This is going to sound idiotic but I’m going to say it anyway: even though I’m moderate now and voted for Barack Obama and probably will vote for him again, I can’t hate George W. Bush like so many of my good friends do. I detest the Patriot Act and hate the war even more, but I was on welfare with six little kids when the terrorists attacked and about to lose everything I owned in the courts. After 9/11, it was the president who gave me the reassurance that I might lose everything else—all my belongings and even eventually my children—but I wouldn’t lose my country. I’d still be American, and Americans have always been bullheaded enough to hang onto the faith that they can get free. No matter who or what is standing in the way.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum!

Read all posts by Tess Willoughby!

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NLQ Recommends ...

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