By Hännah Schlaudt

Meg had restlessness deep in her soul, and it peeked out as she sat swinging her legs under her chair and played with the ice cream in her bowl. “I just don’t know. The whole submission and calling to be a wife and mother thing—just doesn’t seem to be enough. I want to do something really useful and satisfying with my life. I want to see the world, to live and to do something worthwhile with myself.” Her clear bright eyes shone as she rambled on about her dreams of living in Europe and being a freelance writer and photographer, free to do as she pleased with her life without the chains of family and husband to confine her. “After all,” she rationalized, “I don’t think I know a guy I could stand to have as a husband.” I ate my ice cream slowly, nodding and listening and pondering on what she said. I had some of the same dreams myself, but I wondered if she was sailing toward them guided by different stars from the ones I knew so well. Her heart and her dreams did not seem wrong in the least by the world’s standards, but compared with the rich ideals laid out in Scripture, they were grasping at wind and empty of much more than selfishness.

Kara was just the opposite of Meg. When I first met her, I was delighted to meet a girl so old-fashioned and feminine. I hoped I’d find a kindred spirit in this sweet girl. However, my heart grew increasingly perplexed by her. Smart and sweet, she ought to have been active in the church and community, using her time to hone her skills as a math tutor and to serve children in the area. Loving children and quite capable of being a dear friend and an encouragement to everyone, I expected her to be married early on. But time crept on and she saw her twenty-fourth birthday come and go, and was still very single, living at home and helping her mom with chores about the house and reading novels in her free time. I sometimes wanted to weep after talking to her. How much of her life has she frittered away as she sought to be the ideal, dutiful daughter and wait patiently for Prince Charming to approach her dad and whisk her away into “real life” and that perfect home of her own?

These girls, and others like them, have driven me on a chase through the woodsy hills and dales of theology, God’s Word, and my own heart and mind. What is the biblical definition of femininity, and which of these girls’ views is the right one? I’d read some on this topic, but certainly not extensively. However, I do believe that God has laid forth in His Word clear principles for what defines biblical femininity that can help us sort through the cultural clutter and sin nature to get at the root of what it means to be a woman, made in the image of God and living to the fullest a live submitted to Him for His glory. Let’s seek out this definition together, shall we? And let’s try to stalk down how God intended for us to apply that definition of biblical femininity to where we are now—as young women just stepping forth into adulthood, blinking in the burst of sunlight that is the realization that we’ve left girlhood behind and the wondering what that might mean in the nitty gritty of everyday living.

First, though, let’s try to lay down our assumptions and presuppositions in the dust at the wayside. There are many definitions of femininity thrown at us today—the highly educated, in-your-face businesswoman who demands perfect equality, the half-naked glamour queen on glossy grocery store magazine racks, the gentle, mousey Victorian lady with lowered eyes, the soccer mom with screaming kids and a to-do list longer than her minivan, the damsel humming to herself in a lonely tower as she waits patiently for her prince to ride up the hill and bring her away to a golden palace with diamond sunbursts. All of these are crooked distortions of what God intended woman to be, and we must forget them as we seek out His original intent for us. He did not mean for a woman to be a spineless, mindless “angel of the house” with little use but to look pretty and encourage morality. Nor did He purpose for His daughters to be domineering and independent creatures that only differ from men in their anatomy. Far from it. He made us to be beautiful and good and to bring glory to Him. But what does that look like?

Take a walk with me through the pages of the Word and the writings of wise saints, and let’s find out.


Hännah Schlaudt is a nineteen year old sophomore at Grove City College, where she is pursuing a double major in English and Christian Thought. She can most often be found seated beneath a tree with a book in hand. While she dislikes hop scotch, she does admit to a penchant for the Lindy Hop, which she does in between games of frisbee. Her writing can also be found at www.forthrightfixation.com.

Beauty & A Book

As we mentioned before, Lindsey and I are excited to take part in Jim Spiegel's blog tour for his recent book, Gum, Geckos and God. Somewhere in between an apologetic for Christian doctrine and a day-in-the-life of a father of four, Gum, Geckos and God centers around theological discussions Mr. Spiegel has shared with his children.

As Mr. Spiegel is a Professor of Philosophy at Taylor University, Lindsey and I were eager to ask him some questions, especially about the nature of beauty (aesthetics.)

In the context of Psalm 139:13-16, as a Christian philosopher, do you believe physical beauty is objective or subjective?

SPIEGEL: I strongly believe in the objectivity of beauty. Furthermore, I would say that the notion that beauty is subjective (that beauty is "in the eye of the beholder") is an indirect result of the deteriorating belief in divine creativity in our culture. To recognize genuine artistry implies belief in the existence of an artist. So when the Cosmic Artist is denied, as is so common in our culture, there necessarily comes with this a loss of the sense of the world as a beautiful work of art.

Biblically, how would you define the nature of beauty?

SPIEGEL: While I don't think Scripture gives us an actual definition of beauty, a sound Christian theology would tell us that beauty (i.e. artistic excellence) must be grounded in the being of God. Just as God is the source of all truth and goodness, he must also be the source of all beauty. In fact, these are basic categories which describe God himself. He IS truth, goodness, and beauty. And all true, good, and beautiful things we experience in this world are merely reflections of their source--God. Scripture confirms this with its many references to God as true, good, and beautiful. With regard to the latter, see such passages as Ps. 27:4 and Ps. 45:11.

Do you think physical beauty has been impacted by the Fall? (i.e. Has humanity lost it's level of physical beauty since the Fall, or is it merely our perception of beauty that has altered as a result of sin?)

SPIEGEL: Yes, the Fall has affected the whole of creation and how it reflects its Creator in the three main categories I just noted: truth, goodness, and beauty. I do believe our ability to perceive beauty has also been compromised (just as has our ability to ascertain truth and goodness), but this is just another aspect of the problem. The Fall into sin, and the consequent curse, has marred all aspects of creation, making it less beautiful and compromising the human aesthetic sensibility.

Many times in the book, your children seemed to begin the theological conversations by asking a question. Are there any specific conversation starter-questions you would recommend asking the child who perhaps isn't so eager to initiate deep discussions?

SPIEGEL: I would recommend starting those conversations in contexts where a child is already interested, such as sports, movies, cartoons, or nature. In Gum, Geckos, and God I share how my kids' thinking about God is impacted by everything from bugs to Star Wars. The more a parent can show her/his child that God is the ultimate source of all such things, the more s/he will be inclined to draw theological connections from them. Also--to bring the question back to your blog's theme--note how a kid's interest in such things is, at bottom, a search and appreciation for beauty. Nature in all its aspects is beautiful. Sports is enjoyable to us, in large part, because of its aesthetic appeal. And, of course, films, cartoons, and other creative art forms have fundamentally to do with beauty. Like all adults, children hunger for the beautiful. We should help them in this quest, assisting them in appreciating beauty in so much of human experience and reminding them that God is the source of all of it.

Doing Things Isn't Enough

“Picture me with my ground teeth stalking joy--fully armed too, as it's a highly dangerous quest.” –Flannery O’Connor

I remember distinctly one night when I was about eight years old. Reading the verse, “Thou shalt not commit false witness against thy neighbor,” it hit me. For the past several millennia, everyone had been reading that verse wrong. “Dad! Guess what I found! The Bible doesn’t actually say we can’t lie. It just says we can’t testify wrongly against our neighbors.” The verse really didn’t apply unless you were in court.

After a conversation with my Dad, my interpretation faced some much-needed adjustments. So I didn’t stumble upon a monumental loophole in the Ten Commandments. Ten years later, I freely admit, lying is wrong because the Bible tells me so.

Unfortunately, my tendency to misunderstand truth didn’t end that day. I’m finding that it’s human nature to twist and pervert truths, either until the truths are softened to a point of becoming meaningless, or until they become rigidly legalistic.



The Pharisees Must’ve Had Dandy Checklists, Too


One such truth that I commonly see distorted is the necessity of doing things for God. “Don’t waste your life” has become a mantra reminding me to stick to my “To-Do” list. It’s true—good things come to those who don’t slack off. Diligence is commendable, and so is service; but clinging desperately to accomplishments to justify our existence is a misunderstanding of service altogether. That is twisting the original meaning of diligence into the idea that our life’s purpose is to complete a checklist of ambitious goals.

To take this even a step further, I propose that we are absolutely guaranteed to waste our lives if we live solely with the goal of accomplishing things. Yep, you read that right. If you learn Chinese before the age of twenty, move to China by age twenty-one, and become a full-time missionary in record time, what of it? Why would that matter at all? If you learn how to cook gourmet dinners with whole foods, graduate from with honors and start your own business, what would you have accomplished?

The accomplishments themselves are empty. They’re useless, and what’s more—they’re a waste of time and energy. That is, unless those actions are propelled forward by something deeper. It is as Sören Kierkegaard wrote, “Father in heaven! What is a man without Thee! ....What is all his striving, could it even encompass a world, but a half-finished work if he does not know Thee: Thee the One, who art one thing and who art all!”

Life isn’t all striving. It’s more a frenzy of joy found in adoring the God we were born to love. Yes, we’re to serve Him, but out of the sheer love of it—not to accomplish a legalistic set of expectations we set for ourselves.

Case in Point

The other day, I felt under the weather. Although I awoke with a mental list of tasks to complete, I was able to only finish the bare minimum. Was my day wasted? On the surface it was; and I was discouraged at the apparent waste of time. But why would God allow me to feel sick if it kept me from doing things that glorify Him? Unless--there is more to glorifying God than bare obedience.

Paul Tripp explained that the Christian life is more than a set of guidelines: "[L]ife in the kingdom is not so much about pursuing a thing; it is about pursuing a person. It is about having the eyes of my heart focused on Christ. It is about a soul filled with appreciation and brimming with affection. It is walking around astounded that he would place his affection on me and even received my flawed love. It is living with the hope that someday we will no longer be separated..."

The most accurate depiction of the Christian life, I think, is not someone who accomplishes great things for God but someone who lives each moment in order to more deeply love Him. Aspiring to serve God is fine and dandy, but should the success of my day be defined by my surface-level "accomplishments?" I don't think so. Only when I realized that God wants more than filled out checklists, but instead hearts that stalk His Presence, did my day begin to make sense.

'I Miss Him'

I read an excerpt from an interview of Charles Templeton, the evangelist turned-agnostic, conducted by Lee Strobel. What was said fascinated me.

And what about Jesus? I wanted to know what Templeton thought of the cornerstone of Christianity. "Do you believe Jesus ever lived?" I asked.

"No question," came the quick reply.

"Did he think he was God?"

He shook his head. "That would have been the last thought that would have entered his mind."

"And his teaching - did you admire what he taught?"

"Well, he wasn't a very good preacher. What he said was too simple. He hadn't thought about it. He hadn't agonized over the biggest question there is to ask."

"Which is . . ."

"Is there a God? How could anyone believe in a God who does, or allows, what goes on in the world?"

"And so how do you assess this Jesus?" It seemed like the next logical question - but I wasn't ready for the response it would evoke.

Templeton's body language softened. It was as if he suddenly felt relaxed and comfortable in talking about an old and dear friend. His voice, which at times had displayed such a sharp and insistent edge, now took on a melancholy and reflective tone. His guard seemingly down, he spoke in an unhurried pace, almost nostalgically, carefully choosing his words as he talked about Jesus.

"He was," Templeton began, "the greatest human being who has ever lived. He was a moral genius. His ethical sense was unique. He was the intrinsically wisest person that I've ever encountered in my life or in my readings. His commitment was total and led to his own death, much to the detriment of the world. What could one say about him except that this was a form of greatness?"

I was taken aback. "You sound like you really care about him," I said.

"Well, yes, he's the most important thing in my life," came his reply. "I . . . I . . . I," he stuttered, searching for the right word, "I know it may sound strange, but I have to say. . . I adore him."

I wasn't sure how to respond. "You say that with some emotion," I said.

"Well, yes. Everything good I know, everything decent I know, everything pure I know, I learned from Jesus. Yes . . . yes. And tough! Just look at Jesus. He castigated people. He was angry. People don't think of him that way, but they don't read the Bible. He had a righteous anger. He cared for the oppressed and exploited. There's no question that he had the highest moral standard, the least duplicity, the greatest compassion, of any human being in history. There have been many other wonderful people, but Jesus is Jesus."

"And so the world would do well to emulate him?"

"Oh, my goodness, yes! I have tried - and try is as far as I can go - to act as I have believed he would act. That doesn't mean I could read his mind, because one of the most fascinating things about him was that he often did the opposite thing you'd expect - "

Abruptly, Templeton cut short his thoughts. There was a pause. He glanced up, he looked across the room, he seemed to want to focus anywhere but on me. He was suddenly self-conscious, almost embarrassed, apparently uncertain whether he should continue.

He sighed. "But, no," he said slowly, "in my view. . . ."

Now there was a catch in his voice; he inhaled deeply to try to stop from crying. But as he turned toward me, I watched as tears flooded his eyes.

"In my view," he struggled to say, "he is the most important human being who has ever existed." His voice cracking, he uttered the words I never expected to hear him say: "And if I may put it this way - I . . . miss . . . him." With that, he broke down sobbing. He turned his head and looked downward, raising his left hand to shield his face from me. His shoulders bobbed; his right hand wiped away tears.

HT: Between Two Worlds

This interview struck a chord with me. There’s no question in my mind—Mr. Templeton had bad theology. He was a self-proclaimed agnostic. He didn’t acknowledge Christ as God’s Son. He thought Christ was a mediocre preacher whose greatness lay in how He went to the death for His beliefs.

But I do wonder: If a journalist were to ask me about Jesus, would my answer have been so heartfelt? I might’ve offered some defense of His deity. I would probably have mentioned His sacrificial death and maybe a brief summary of the Old and New Covenants. I might’ve given the Gospel in a nutshell. But would it have been evident in my tone that I miss Him? That I yearn for His Presence?

I’m not implying that Mr. Templeton was saved or was somehow justified by his 'love' for Jesus. (1 John 5:10-11) I am wondering whether half the Christians I know exhibit a love for God appropriate to the truth we know.

Think about it. This Jesus who Mr. Templeton inexplicably longs for has courted and wooed us—His Church—and paid the ultimate price on our behalf. He still faithfully presides over our lives with tender care. On a personal level, you have no hope for life outside of Jesus. I have no hope without Him. Yet with Him, we have hope beyond measure.

Isn’t that something to sing about? If merely knowing about Jesus, without knowing Him personally, was enough to make Mr. Templeton cry, how much more do we have to adore?

I think the Apostle John's student, Ignatius, had the right perspective: "My dear Jesus, my Savior, is so deeply written in my heart, that I feel confident, that if my heart were to be cut open and chopped to pieces, the name of Jesus would be found written on every piece."

That's more like it.

Related post:
What Makes You Cry? by Irish Calvinist
Randy Alcorn on "The Scream of the Damned" (A letter to C.J. Mahaney and John Piper. See half-way down the page)

Jesus Is Just Alright With Me

"Umm...it's alright."

Those words have the power to drive me nearly insane. To hear them spoken of a cherished book or a beautiful dress is almost unbearable. In Sense and Sensibility, Marianne Dashwood cries out in similar frustration to her mother, “To hear those beautiful lines, which have frequently almost driven me wild, pronounced with such impenetrable calmness—such dreadful indifference!”

She strikes upon something I think we've all felt at some time. When something we love is not treated with the whole-hearted, passionate adoration we believe it deserves, something within us rebels. We're righteously indignant when a praiseworthy object is left unpraised. Adore it or loathe it, but do not simply tolerate it!

And yet, how often do I apply this very same principle to my personal relationship with God? Realistically, it is of no consequence if someone fails to produce what I deem is the "proper response" to one of my earthly affections. What should I care if my friend gives a favorite book only three stars? It’s small beans. On the other hand, my opinion of God is an unbendable issue. He’s the only One worthy of total devotion. But with a nod of acknowledgement, I'm saying, “Umm…God, You’re alright”-- as if He were a choice dessert or hit song. I wade in apathy where I should dance with zeal.

Missionary-martyr Jim Elliot cried to God for passion:

“God, I pray Thee, light these idle sticks of my life and may I burn for Thee. Consume my life, my God, for it is Thine. God, deliver me from the dread asbestos of 'other things.' Saturate me with the oil of the Spirit that I may be aflame. Make me thy fuel, Flame of God.”

Nothing lukewarm there. Can I really say that my love is such a consuming fervor that nothing else matters? That I attribute to Him the adoration and praise He so greatly deserves? Sam Storms put it well, when he wrote in his book One Thing: Developing a Passion for the Beauty of God,

“Apathy is impossible in the presence of the Son of God. Ineffable beauty compels a response: either passionate devotion or hatred. Middle-of-the-road,straddle-the-fence, you-do-your-thing-and-I’ll-do-mine indifference dies when Jesus draws near. Love Him or despise Him, but abandon the myth that He can be tolerated. Sing for joy or spit in His face. Apathy simply isn’t an option.”

Dwell on those words. Passionate devotion—or hatred. There is no room for a response less than the extreme. Christ wants all of ourselves: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” (Mark 12:30) Not part of the time. Not mildly or insipidly. Just as Christ gave us His everything, our everything is demanded in return. It’s radical, fanatic, obsessive, and unreserved. It’s a love that shouts from rooftops, to the God who is never merely “alright.”

Re-post from 8/11/07