Reformed SHEology

T his is my first post here at Reformed SHEology and I would like to say it is a blessing and privilege to be a part of what God is doing here. I pray that any contributions made will bring Glory to our Father and encouragement to the body. The following is not only a review of Does Christianity Squash Women by Rebecca Jones but it is also a testimony, so please bear with me as I weave the two together. I picked up and started reading this book shortly after going through one of the toughest times so far in my walk with God. If I had to describe what my walk has been like so far I would have to say it has been very much like a path with many obstacles which had to be overcome. No sooner was one overcome, I had no time to reflect on what I just went through when I was met by another! The most recent one was the darkest. But glory to God He brought me through and I feel like a different woman. This brings me to the point of this review. What is it to be a woman? In the preface of Re

T he most incredible thing happened to me this week. This Tuesday I had a conflict with someone who never wants to speak to me ever again. And in spite of everything, I cannot wipe the silly grin off my face. I made a huge mess of things, and it was worth every minute of it! Sound weird? Let me explain. Three years ago, God gave me an assignment: I was to work on mortifying my pride and to open myself up to people. I did not like the idea one bit. I followed Him, kicking and screaming of course, but I obeyed nonetheless. And over time, He gave me the grace to develop friendships with people whose company brings me such joy. But even in the best situations conflict is inevitable. Last year, this particular friend had made a decision I did not agree with and in the process of carrying out the decision, he sinned against me. I remained silent for his sake, but stewed in my anger toward him for months, all the while knowing my sin was absolutely disgusting. I thought, “If this person c

M any years ago, I befriended a man (I'll call him John) whom I dated for a few months. John's father was an alcoholic and drank himself into a wheelchair. Because he was often intoxicated and could no longer work and provide for his wife, all responsibility fell upon John to provide for his mother. John was frequently inundated with tasks that were clearly not his responsibility. John often would run to his mother's side whenever she was bored or depressed, or needed a shoulder to cry on. Needless to say, my presence was not welcome. I remember calling John that year to wish him a Merry Christmas, and his mother picked up the phone and said, "For crying out loud, you just saw him yesterday! Can't you have some respect and let his mother spend time with him on Christmas?" When Valentine's Day rolled around, John and I had plans to go to dinner. About two hours before John was supposed to pick me up, he called me to say, "I am going to have to cance