Real Feminists Choose Life

A quick note on the heart of this post; we all have our proverbial “hills” we are willing to die on. This new-wave feminism that holds such deep contempt for the sanctity of life is mine. I don’t write this to chastise or condemn. I write it because underneath all the fancy arguments and hashtags, we are faced with a single question: who and what do we choose? Life? Or death? Self? Or others? Forty years ago a young woman I never knew chose life over death, temporary affliction over instant gratification, and I am forever grateful. Those women are the true feminists in my eyes, they understood the easy way isn’t always the right way.

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Hustling Ourselves To Death

“Are we really this empty?”

I find myself asking that question a lot lately. Check the trending headlines or your social media and you’ll see it: we are a culture grasping at straws for the next thing to come and soothe us, define us, entertain us or empower us.

If you aren’t “hustling”, you’re not getting anywhere. If you aren’t first, you’re last (I actually saw a mom post those words to Instagram when her son placed first in a ski race my son was in). If you don’t have 300 likes you might as well delete that post (again, true story). Life has us scrambling, and the selfish idols we pile up in the chase have us numbing ourselves with anything we can dig up.

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Smoking in the Trenches

There’s a really thoughtful article over at Sheologians this week discussing, among other things, how we use words and the importance of speaking Biblically. What does it mean to use Biblically sound words? Why is this important? We aren’t talking about not cursing here, it’s something fairly sneaky that’s happening, and it’s incredibly important.

“And so, when you peruse Evangelical Facebook and Evangelical Twitter and Large-Evangelical-Blog-Sites, often what you come across is a euphemism from the pit of hell to describe the state of sin we all experience. The Old Testament describes sinners as having the poison of asps under their lips and having throats that are like open tombs (try imagining the smell of that real quick) and here we are like, “I’m just so messy, teehee! Join me in acknowledging your messiness! Isn’t it great? Let’s all be messy together!”

The ones preaching the gloriousness of sharing in each other’s “messiness” are the ones that have given up the ghost. They aren’t the ones storming the tower. They’re the ones smoking a cigarette in the trench because what’s the big deal about taking the tower, anyway?

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Good things and God Things

Happy 2018! I think I’m not supposed to say this, but I don’t mind one bit the end of the holidays. I love Christmas, but there’s something about January. December is a month filled with family, friends, food, activity and just… a lot. I love decorating the house, and I equally love un-decking all the halls. There’s just a fantastic feeling about hitting the reset button in different areas of life.

Like most people, our family has goals for 2018, some big, some small, some practical and others lofty. As we were talking with our kids about the specifics of them yesterday, two words popped in my head: big picture.

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