February 26, 2010
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More Masculine
So I get it. You get older, and there comes this line in life where you step over it and BOOM, you realize you are not getting younger. And that not all those ideas and dreams buzzing around your head are going to come true. And that you should hurry and wake up, figure out which ones you are really going to work to make happen–and then do it.
Perhaps this is called becoming an adult.
And you can call this post “Rachel needs a Man” if you want…but that isn’t what it is. I read “Bravehearted Gospel” and it explained some things to me. Yeah, I saw a pretty good picture of the kinda guy I would like (someday), but more than that, it showed me ME.
The book puts it like this: there is a feminine side and a masculine side in Christianity. Like men and women, they are not better than the other, but both are equally important, and both are needed for balance.
Feminine side:
Emphasis on mercy, forgiveness, beauty, allure, relationship, unity, acceptance, embracing, feeling, intuition
Masculine side:
Emphasis on holiness, righteousness, conquering, achiving practical goals, repairing what is broken, accuracy of truth, preservation of sound doctrine, just need to wage war for the right, to uproot the wrong.
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I am doing pretty good on the feminine side (Knock on wood), but I need a better balance. God has taken me on journeys of his mercy and forgiveness, so that I can show it to others…but what about standing for holiness and righteousness? I am thrilled and stop to see the beauty and allure that draws me to God with the strongest power I have ever felt–but what about conquering and achiving practical goals? What about actually DOING it?
Unity and acceptance–God has given special people to teach me these, but have I dropped the accuracy of truth and repairing what is broken–not willing that anyone should stay in the mud that catches us all so easily?
On September 11 I cried for those who lost their lives, but I also cried that the only people willing to die for what they believe in are terrorists. I hate fighting–I see it every day–I hate war and killing and the sorrow it brings so many, the criplied lives that have to continue on. But I wept for the beauty that I saw on “The Last Samurai.” Because there is something so achingly beautiful and necessary in waging war for the right, and uprooting the wrong–something that I hide from, because I am afraid of the pain, the inconvienience, the rejection.
No more, dear God, no more. Pick me up when I fall.
