We drove for three hours to get to the Lynnwood Barnes and Noble yesterday. And then we promptly acted like a couple of weirdos in the aisle, taking pictures, mugging for the camera, hugging and dancing a little bit among the stacks, and rearranging the bookshelf (who? me?) just a little bit.
Such a great moment, I couldn’t even apologise for being such a complete and total dork about it. I have so loved watching all of the Instagram photos in the #jesusfeminist hashtag that I couldn’t help wanting to have my own bookstore moment. It was worth the drive.
We spent a bit of time prowling around the area, picking up a few things, and then we began the drive back north. Which is when one of the tinies became so terribly and seriously sick that the trip took quite a bit longer and I spent most of the evening buckled beside a sick little one, holding the barf bucket and breathing through my mouth. That night, Brian washed sheets and scrubbed the minivan seatbelts while I bathed babies and administered saltines and pedialyte.
So glamourous, this life. My, my, my.
Thing are starting to settle down after book release week. There’s still time to enter to win a few copies and to throw your hat in the ring for the book club giveaway for instance, but overall, it’s done now.
That was one funny thing about the Release Day in particular: it was such a regular day. Errands, dishwasher to be emptied, tinies to pick up, lunches to make, life as usual. And yet the whole time, something extraordinary was also happening, a dream came true on that very day. I was reading Twitter, and seeing photos of people with the book, and trying to ignore Amazon rankings, reading reviews and responses and quotes being tweeted, and the whole time, everything was just the same. I’m still me, and I am glad for that.
Sacred and meaningful moments usually happen in the crush of our real lives, don’t they?
Now comes the part I have been looking forward to: just letting the little yellow book go out into the world and getting back to regularly-unscheduled life.
Anyway, this weekend, as I was reading each entry in the synchroblog, I could only think that I hope they didn’t get lost in the flurry so I have called out a few representatives here but rest assured, they are worth your time.
The Hole in our Complementarianism by Tamara Rice at Hopefully Known
Because that tore a hole in the complementarian perspective that began to grow for me. And grow. And grow. Until it could no longer hold all my questions, all the inconsistencies I’d started to notice in the biblical arguments, all the hypocrisy of praxis I’d seen, and all the greater truth evidenced in both the whole of the Scriptures and my life experience. If Deborah, why not me? If Priscilla, why not me? If Elisabeth Elliot, why not me? If there is neither male nor female, why not me? If Jesus said “go ye” and not “go he,” why not me?
I am a Jesus Feminist because… by Debby at Living in Graceland
The Salvation Army has given women a tradition of serving God with equal platform as the men. Always, they have ordained women and always we have not only preached the word of God but we have been leaders of others in this organization. There has never been a question of a ‘woman’s place’ in the kingdom of God as the Word doesn’t say gifts are gender specific. The sacred text doesn’t say to men he gave the gift of teaching and to women he gave the gift of hospitality. It simply says to some he gave ….. and I am the some. You are the some. We are all part of that group of believers to whom He gives his gifts and He gives them graciously and liberally.
When Baptist Women Go Wild by Jenny Call
I am an ordained minister (in the tradition that tried to deny me), the wife of an ordained minister turned coin dealer and stay at home dad, the mother of two (a feisty little girl and a strong-willed boy), and the chaplain at a women’s liberal arts university. The feminism that excluded me in my home church is now practically a job requirement as I mentor young women and prepare them for the challenges ahead. I am a member at a Baptist church that has a female senior pastor and many women deacons, and yet I know there is still much work that needs to be done. The reminder comes every time I share my occupation and there is a moment of shock or disbelief.
Jesus Feminist by JJ at The Blah Blah Blahger
CONFESSION: I’ve never liked the word feminist. Having grown up in the 80s and 90s, it felt loud and angry to me. It felt like red power suits, like women who broke through the glass ceiling on their own and demanded that you did it on your own, too, and like man-haters. It didn’t feel feminine to me…or even powerful. It felt bitter. I’m laying it all out here for you, folks.
I am a new believer and I am a Jesus Feminist by Karen at Mended Musings
I’m a Jesus feminist because when I let Jesus into my heart, He showed me that the only thing limiting my view of the world was me. My faith has expanded my capacity to love and to accept and forgive others, especially myself. I haven’t chosen a religion as much as I’ve grown in my ability to understand God.
I am not a side issue by Fiona Lynne
I am not a side issue. My femininity, my femaleness, the woman I am, is central to who I am, is central to who God created me to be. And so my freedom, my empowerment, my opportunity to live life to the full has to be central to
On Calling Myself a Feminist by Carolyn Phillips
I may not be an international campaigner, a national or even local leader of society, politics or church, a well heard voice – but I still have a responsibility. To speak when I can, to teach my children, to put my money where my mouth is, to sign petitions, to learn, to ask questions, to do the task in front of me.
Anyone can be a Jesus Feminist – even me by Ben Irwin
When I get angry with the world, when it feels like some people will never change, one thought keeps sneaking past my defenses:
And there it is. Hope. The invitation to help someone else envision a better way of being human, just as others did for me.
It happened for me. Why can’t it happen for someone else?
Today, I have a three year-old daughter. I don’t have time to be a cynic anymore. I don’t have time to listen to the voice that says this is the best we can do, that the march toward equality can only go so far, so fast.
My Jesus, a Feminist by Osheta Moore
As we prayed, the sweet, generous, barrier-breaking, presence of Jesus, was nearly tangible in the midst of a lesbian feminist priest-to-be and a well-meaning, but still judgmental evangelical urban missionary.
Standing on my porch, with our boys giggling in the background and colorful leaves swirling around our feet, Jesus challenged my stereotypes and undermined my legalism.
When we said, “Amen” together, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper back to me, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.”
I am a Jesus Feminist for the Sake of Shalom by Courtney Bailey Parker
I am a Jesus Feminist not only because of Jesus, but also because I believe the seminal texts of the Women’s Movement have redemption written all over them—and I think Jesus would approve. Betty Friedan, Simone de Beauvoir, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Mary Wollstonecraft, Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Lucy Stone—they all craved shalom. Their desire was for creation to be redeemed, to return a divided world to wholeness. Shalom has always been the goal, whether we use that particular diction or not.
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