Every once in a while God asks us to step over a boundary and enter into a new land. To expand our boundaries with courage. To venture into unprotected spaces. To heed the call and step forward. To take a step of faith.
There’s one boundary God’s been pushing me to cross for more than 10 years: to share in writing the in-depth story of my journey out of feminism and the things I’ve learned along the way. I’ve started and stopped several times over the years already; the words come inconsistently, in jolts, surrounded by tears and deep heart pangs. I didn’t know how difficult it would be. It’s beautiful to recount our story together through the years, but the words are not easy words to write. They are vulnerable and I feel exposed, uncovered. They recount the deep rescue of my heart, yes, but they also bring me back to all my feelings of loneliness and my longing for a voice, an identity, and a place to belong. The stories address my pride, my identity, my bad confessions and judgments. They address justice, righteousness, principalities of darkness, and the nature of the kingdom. They are some of the deepest waters of my redemptive story and my inner life of love and pursuit by God. They are the altar stones of remembrance I carry with me. To write and share them feels like I’m throwing wide the gate for “open season” on one of the most profound and transformational parts of my journey.
Jesus knows this feeling. He knows how it feels to put his heart on the line. He knows what it feels like to offer vulnerably, to speak up, to tell the story of the kingdom of God and how it turns the kingdom of the world upside down, to step over boundary-lines of what you’re supposed to say and how you’re supposed to say it. And he knows how it feels to be judged, rejected and ultimately silenced by the very people he came to rescue. Yet, amazingly, he didn’t live a guarded life. He didn’t defend his own name or honor. He didn’t shrink back.
“But Jesus, on His part, was not entrusting Himself to them, for He knew all men, and because He did not need anyone to testify concerning man, for He Himself knew what was in man.” (John 2:24-25)
He “kept entrusting Himself to Him who judges righteously.” (1 Peter 2:23)
The threat of rejection and accusation is real, folks, especially in the age of cancel culture and the warfare of religious and political spirits that seek to categorize, divide and shame us. It was real for Jesus, too, and he experienced it. He was ignored, mocked, publicly shamed, betrayed by some of his best friends, beaten, and killed alongside criminals. But his life and his blood made a way for us: his life showed us how to live in intimacy with God with an open and soft heart, and his blood satisfied the holiness of God on our behalf, it settled the problem of our sin and guilt, and it answered the accusations of our enemies.
What else could possibly stand in the way?
I would be willing to bet that we all have these sacred testimonies of God’s redemption that feel a little too close to the heart to share. That’s one reason I wanted to bring my process out into the open rather than just skip to the meat of the stories. Our sensitive stories must be shared. I think you must share; we must share. They are the stories of how the blood of Jesus is appropriated to bring redemption to every part of our lives, our histories, our memories, our futures, our identities. They are the stories of how the gospel of Jesus Christ increases within us and transforms us from the inside out. The world is in desperate need for lovers of God to stand–like Jesus–in the face of fear, silencing, rejection and public shaming and offer stories of redemption in love and humility. Now is time to remember how powerful our stories are: “They overcame him [the accuser] because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony” (Revelation 12:11).
Our sharing might be imperfect. Our stories might be incomplete. No matter. Cross the threshold. Expand the boundary. We no longer have any reputation to protect; our “life is hidden in Christ.” (Colossians 3:3)
As for my own threshold-crossing, I’m feeling sufficiently encouraged in writing this to promise a series of upcoming posts about my decades-long healing journey into a more empowered, unshackled life than I ever experienced as a feminist. Stay tuned.