"Bible Sisters" Book Review -- and Giveaway

Bible Sisters is a rare daily devotional dedicated to the women in the Bible, and it's for all of the women of God.   There are both well-known and unknown women in it, women named and women whose names we will never know.

The devotional is numbered but not dated, which could be both a detriment or an asset.  It means that you can pick it up and start any day (not necessarily on January 1), but it also means that you need to keep track daily of where you are and how far you have come.

I loved the variety of women and their stories:  from Eve and "the first woman" (the very first readings) to tragic figures like Dinah and downright villainesses like Jezebel, from Simon's mother-in-law,  to "A Capable Wife", Jephthah's daughter and the women who were silenced in the churches.  From the last story she draws the lesson that there are times when we should ALL be silent in church, gleaning encouragements and exhortations for us from every story she shares.  This devotional is particular encouragement for women to claim their gifts, based on the stories she shares.

Some of the women have more than one entry devoted to them.  Shiprah and Puah have their story told in three parts.  Well-known women like Sarah and Miriam recur, showing different aspects of their stories.

If you are interested, leave a comment under this post on Facebook, and I will enter your name in a drawing of a copy of this book.  I highly recommend it for its scholarship and accessibility.

Bible Sisters is written by the Rev. Dr. Gennifer Benjamin Brooks, who is the Ernest and Bernice Styberg Professor of Preaching and the director of the Styberg Preaching Institute at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary in Evanston, Illinois.

Using your Weaknesses

I went to a workshop for women in leadership last week, driving to another new area of town for the opportunity to receive encouragement, support and the opportunity for growth.  I will admit to feeling isolated at times in this new state.  It was healing to be together and to meet new people.

In preparation for the workshop, we all had to take an inventory that would help us to be aware of our particular leadership strengths and weaknesses.  (Some people call weaknesses, 'growing edges', I suppose in order to avoid using the word 'weakness.')  I was fascinated to learn in what categories I am strong, and a little disheartening to see that one of my particular 'growing edges' was in "Risk-Taking."

But I knew that.

Maybe it's even in my DNA.  I remember being terrified to get on my first bicycle.  It seemed way too tall for me, and there were no training wheels.  So it sat there, in our garage, until my sister finally learned how to ride it.  It took a long time, but I finally got up the courage to confess to a friend of mine that I didn't know how to ride a bicycle, and to ask for her help.  She had a little bike, and we took secret practice rides every day for a week, until I finally got up the courage to try the big one again.

I have never secretly yearned to jump out of an airplane, never gone hang-gliding, and have not gone wilderness camping.  I do not jump into new experiences eagerly.  I have perfectionist tendencies and I fear failure, even though I know it is necessary.  It's a bad combination, I know.

So, I looked at the results of the inventory and my heart sort-of sank, but I also was not surprised.  I am risk-averse.  I like to be safe.  I don't like driving unknown places (something I have been doing a lot, during the past few months).  I don't like it when the 'check engine' light comes on in the car.  I don't like it when I am unsure of the outcome of my endeavors, which is more of the time than I want to admit.  I don't like being very far out of my comfort zone.

I confessed to one of my colleagues my risk-averse nature.  She laughed and said "risk-taking" was her highest score.  I tried to think of some small risks that I could practice taking, so that I could get better at it.

And then I thought this:  I'll bet my congregation is sort of risk-averse too.  It's possible.

One strategy is to get a really courageous, risk-taking pastor in here to jump out ahead of them and show them how it's done.  That could work.

But another strategy could be to use my weakness:  to say, "I'm not very good at this either.  So let's start practicing together."  I'm thinking about this possibility, that there might be times when it is actually a good thing to use your weakness, that it could even be a strategy.

Sometimes.

It's funny.  When I think back again, to my risk-averse childhood, there is one place where I was not risk-averse:  in the water.  I'm not a great swimmer, but I have always loved the water, ever since I was little and I first learned to float.  Every year at church camp, I pushed myself to swim the maximum number of laps so that I could be allowed to swim out to the middle of the lake.  I learned to jump in and make a splash, to do a simple dive, and loved to play in the water.   For some reason, I was not afraid, like I was in so much of the rest of my life.

So, as of today, I have two strategies:

Use my weaknesses.
And get a bigger baptismal font.

The Only One

A couple of weeks ago I was invited to breakfast with a few other pastors from my community.  It was an ecumenical group, although no one said the word "ecumenical."  I was invited by one of the parents at my congregation's pre-school, a Catholic who love our school and thinks it is awesome.  He has been the instigator of a community "Faith Fest" for the last few years.  There is music and other Texas-style entertainment.  Our school has been responsible for "children's activities."  All of the proceeds of the "Faith Fest" go to support local ministries and charities.

All of the pastors invited are involved in some way or another in upcoming Faith Fest.  There were two from Baptist churches, two from a couple of non denominational churches, and the priest from the large local Catholic parish.  And me.

Did I mention as well that I was the only woman in the group?

For some reason, I was a little nervous about going to the breakfast.  I am not sure why.  I have been doing this pastoring gig for a fair number of years now.  In my defense, I will say that I am new to this particular state, Texas.  There are a few things that are different here.  For example, there are no Cowboy Churches in Minnesota.

The man who organized this event said that the year he started it, he was sitting at a table with a Baptist pastor, a Lutheran pastor and his priest, and he realized that in many different circumstances these Christians would not be sitting at a table with one another.  They probably disagreed about many things, if you got right down to it.  But they were coming together for something greater than the things they disagreed with.

This year, he wanted to make sure I would come.  I would be the Only Woman Pastor at the table.

So I showed up, Minnesota accent and all.  We talked about what was going well in our ministries.  One of the churches was in transition, waiting for a new senior pastor.  Another one was embarking on a building project.  We all talked a little bit about wanting to have a positive impact on people's lives.   That's what it's all about, right?  It's about Jesus, and loving people.  I said I might want to visit a Cowboy Church sometime on a Monday night, just to see what it was like.

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting around a table with some pastors from other faith traditions.  We probably disagree about a lot of things, some of them important.  I am not so naive that I believe that every one of those men thinks my calling is legitimate.  But, for that hour, we didn't talk about those things.   We just prayed, and talked about Jesus, and loving people.

Maybe, for the first breakfast, that was enough.

Six Monologues from John's Passion: #5

"One of the Women"

I don't know why we stayed.  It was hard to stay.  It would have been easier to leave, and not to witness the pain, and not to hear the laughter, and not to see the shame.  Almost everyone had left.  There were still a few soldiers, gambling for his clothes.  But there were no crowds any more.  There were no crowds cheering for him -- and there were not crowds jeering at him, either.  Not any more.   But we stayed, even though it was hard.  Sometimes you have to do the hard thing for someone you love.  And we loved him.

Speaking for myself,  I still didn't want to give up on him.  I didn't want to believe that everything was over.  He had given me dignity.  He had given me hope.  He had healed me.  He had given me freedom.  How could that end?  I didn't want to think that I had believed in the wrong things, trusted the wrong person.

But crucifixion means only one thing, and that is death.  There could be no other ending.  There was no hope.  He was our hope, and he was on the cross.  I suppose that's why everyone else went home.  They knew how it would end.  But we stayed, because we didn't want to believe it -- not yet.  And we wanted to be near him.

Yes, that's right.  We wanted to be near him until the end.  That's what you do for someone you love, and we loved him.  He had given us so much, and now we wanted to give him something.  We weren't even sure he knew if we were there, but he did.  Because even then, he was giving us something.

He gave us one another.  He said, "Here is your son."  and "here is your mother" just as if he knew that we needed each other as much as we needed him.  He made us a family.

We have been a family ever since that day.  Something was born on that cross.  I know that seems strange to say.  And I don't mean just Jesus' mother and his disciples were his family.  No -- we are all connected to one another, brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers.  Because of the cross.  Because of what he did.  We live differently now.  We care for one another.  We make sure each of us has food and clothing -- and hope.  We stay with each other, even in hard times.  I don't mean to say that we have suddenly become perfect.  We haven't.  But like I said -- he gave us to each other on the cross, just like he gave himself to us.

Sometimes you have to do the hard thing for someone you love.

*image is by Patt LaPorte

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Day 2

Yesterday's reading was Genesis 17-28.  God promised an heir to Abraham -- to Abraham AND Sarah.  Abraham Laughed.  Sarah Laughed.  Abraham bargained with God to try to save Sodom and Gomorrah from destruction.  Cheeky of him. 

Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, but Lot and his daughters escaped.  Isaac (laughter)was born.  Hagar and Ishmael were cast out, but God provided for them.

God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac, (Laughter).  No backtalk from Abraham this time.  I confess I'm a little disappointed in Abraham.  If he tries to save Sodom and Gomorrah, why not his own son?

At the last minute, though, God provides for Abraham and Isaac. 

Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac.  Her name is Rebekah.  She leaves her family (brother Laban -- remember this name!) to go and live with Isaac.  For 20 years she is barren, and then:

Esau and Jacob are born.  Esau means red, and Jacob means heel.  They are twins, but Esau is born first, and so is entitled to a birthright and his father's blessing.  Jacob steals both of them, and then flees.  He has his mother's help in at least some of this.

Then, on the way to visit his uncle Laban, Jacob sleeps with his head on a rock, and sees a vision of angels.

Two things: 
The blessing that Isaac gives to his son -- these are just words, and yet, it is such a calamity that Jacob gets those words, and Esau doesn't.  How is it that words are so powerful?  Why do words matter so much?

for good or for ill, we got some strong women going on here.  Can't help but notice.  Sarah and Rebekah, you are not perfect people.  But you are interesting people. 

A Short Book in the Reading Challenge

Back while I was helping with Bible School this summer, I noticed a book at the Public Library that I immediately coveted.  It was a children's Bible story book called Tapestries: Stories of women in the Bible.  The pictures of both old and new Testament women were lovely.  I was particularly intrigued by the notion that the author included some women not on the tradtional lists of women in the Bible (for example, The Witch of Endor, and Jael.) 

That alone was enough to make me go on line and find a copy.  This week my book finally arrived, and one evening I sat down and read it (making it #26 in the reading challenge, I think, but who's counting?)  Again,  I loved the artwork.  New Testament women included were not just Mary and Martha, but also Tabitha and Phoebe.

I had to notice, though, that a few details about these interesting women were not included:  Rahab is given a page, but nowhere does the author mention that she was a prostitute.  And the fact that King David committed adultery as well as murder was also left out of the stories.

I don't fault the author too much:  this is supposed to be a children's book, after all, and how much explaining do you want to do?  It just reminds me again that, as my friend Joelle pointed out, the Bible is not a children's book.  The stories contained in the Bible, read properly, are not for the faint-of-heart.  They are stories of complicated people with mixed motives.  They were people worthy of admiration in one moment and of disdain in the next.

For all that, I do love children's Bible story books with their brightly colored illustrations and breathless retellings of famous stories.  But there comes a day, or days, actually, when it's good to know that faith is not just for brightly-colored and breathless days, but is as real and gritty as the people in their Bible.