Christian Living

Reposted, with permission, from Theologically Driven.

I am not a handy person. The tool chest in my basement contains only a few basic tools, many of which were given to me by my dad when I left home. Next to my tool chest is a 1995 edition of Home Depot’s very useful book Home Improvement 1–2–3, also given to me by my dad just after we bought our first house. Shortly after I received this book I decided to replace the light in our dining room with a combination ceiling fan/light: one wall switch/wire to govern two functions. I was perplexed. So I called my dad. And he asked me, “Mark, what did your Home Improvement 1–2–3 book say?” Good question. I looked it up, and voilà! The book gave me a list of tools (which, thanks to my dad, I already had), several carefully illustrated steps, and a little meter that told me exactly how long it would take for a novice to complete the task.

Notice that my dad played a significant role in this little project. He gave me the tools and he gave me the book. And when I asked him for help, he told me to consult the book. And yet I would not go so far as to say that “Dad + Nothing = Everything.”

Now there are some things about which I can say “Dad + Nothing = Everything.” According to John 1:13, my natural existence is due to “decision of a man.” My surname is mine by paternal grant. But when it came to home maintenance, the “Dad + Nothing = Everything” equation is inadequate. In this case, “Everything” is the sum of “Dad + tools + a step-by-step guidebook + a telephone number + parental encouragement to personal industry.”

Last month, Edith Schaeffer passed away at the age of 98. Despite the potential to have been overshadowed by her husband, Christian apologist Francis Schaeffer, she held her own as a writer and thinker, delivering a message of joi de vivre and teaching a generation of women that there is power in the small moments, that even things like mothering and domesticity are an expression of God’s image. She taught us that when God takes up residency, our homes will be filled with His nature—filled with art and music and beauty and wonder and hospitality and joy.

But something’s happened to Christian women in the subsequent years—something that I’m not sure even Mrs. Schaeffer herself would approve. Over the last several decades, we’ve flipped the paradigm; instead of seeing womanhood (and all that comes with it) as an expression of imago dei, we’ve come to see our womanhood as an end in itself. We’ve come to believe that our core sense of self rests in our gender and our ability to conform to certain paradigms. And in doing so, I’m afraid we’ve developed a bit of identity myopia.

This idea has been rolling around in my head for a while now, but I didn’t quite see it clearly, didn’t quite have the words to speak it, until one day. It was the same day that I resolved to start blogging. It was the same day that I realized that my daughter was growing up.