it seems the rules do apply, fwiw
The women in the Bible are flawed.
Well, that is a correct statement because everyone in the Bible, everyone in the world, is flawed except for Jesus Christ. (A discussion about the attainability of sanctification in this lifetime notwithstanding.) Notably, there is no perfect woman. There is one perfect man.
Several books I've read in the past year:
1. Where'd You Go, Bernadette
2. The Charlotte Holmes Novels
3. The Rules Do Not Apply
They get me. I read them all in a day, or at least non-stop when I wasn't putting peanut butter on bread to stuff in my face while I turned the pages or running, because I do that.
Why? They were addicting. The stories were compelling. To pick up a novel and be so engrossed with the characters, with how they react to their situations and their people and wish so badly that I was not myself, that I was anywhere and anyone other than where and who I am?
I'm okay with myself. This is not so much of that crisis. I like myself. I think myself is already full of who I would like to be.
Reading them -Bernadette made me want to up and go to Antarctica. Was there anyone who read that book and didn't at least want to run away on a cruise to an exotic place? Rules made me think (for the thirtieth time) that I wanted to move to California and try my hand at acting, or writing poetry while living with a rich old woman on the seashore (before remembering, for the thirtieth time, the tax rate in California). And Charlotte. I don't guess I wish that I had Moriartys out to kill me, but it would make life exciting. What I want from Charlotte is her wits, her sharp decision and precision, her always knowing, her dark clothes and her boots, her mysteriousness and yet, and yet, her great humanity.
The point being that none of those three books were about flawless women. Actually, they were about remarkably flawed women who don't deserve much but we love them and we empathize because we, too, have these terrible thought circles in our heads and desires to go and be and work out that we would act on if we had even an ounce of the gumption and lack-of-fear that they possess.
Back to the biblical women. Eve, who ate the fruit in the weakness that God gave her (and this is an idea I still struggle with), Sarai, who laughed at God, Lot's wife, who looked back at her home while it perished and I don't even know her name, Martha, who just wanted her home to be nice for her guest, who was Jesus Christ after all, Mary, who wanted to see her son in a crowded place and was told she had been replaced.
Why do you go on and on?
If the truth of it is that God is perfect and the only holy thing and the only thing worth glory and honor and living for, why do you go on like this, with your words and your foolish writing?
'Cause I've spent my whole life searching desperately
To find out that grace requires nothing of me.
(Atlas:One | Sleeping At Last)
Well, that is a correct statement because everyone in the Bible, everyone in the world, is flawed except for Jesus Christ. (A discussion about the attainability of sanctification in this lifetime notwithstanding.) Notably, there is no perfect woman. There is one perfect man.
Several books I've read in the past year:
1. Where'd You Go, Bernadette
2. The Charlotte Holmes Novels
3. The Rules Do Not Apply
They get me. I read them all in a day, or at least non-stop when I wasn't putting peanut butter on bread to stuff in my face while I turned the pages or running, because I do that.Why? They were addicting. The stories were compelling. To pick up a novel and be so engrossed with the characters, with how they react to their situations and their people and wish so badly that I was not myself, that I was anywhere and anyone other than where and who I am?
I'm okay with myself. This is not so much of that crisis. I like myself. I think myself is already full of who I would like to be.
Reading them -Bernadette made me want to up and go to Antarctica. Was there anyone who read that book and didn't at least want to run away on a cruise to an exotic place? Rules made me think (for the thirtieth time) that I wanted to move to California and try my hand at acting, or writing poetry while living with a rich old woman on the seashore (before remembering, for the thirtieth time, the tax rate in California). And Charlotte. I don't guess I wish that I had Moriartys out to kill me, but it would make life exciting. What I want from Charlotte is her wits, her sharp decision and precision, her always knowing, her dark clothes and her boots, her mysteriousness and yet, and yet, her great humanity.The point being that none of those three books were about flawless women. Actually, they were about remarkably flawed women who don't deserve much but we love them and we empathize because we, too, have these terrible thought circles in our heads and desires to go and be and work out that we would act on if we had even an ounce of the gumption and lack-of-fear that they possess.
Back to the biblical women. Eve, who ate the fruit in the weakness that God gave her (and this is an idea I still struggle with), Sarai, who laughed at God, Lot's wife, who looked back at her home while it perished and I don't even know her name, Martha, who just wanted her home to be nice for her guest, who was Jesus Christ after all, Mary, who wanted to see her son in a crowded place and was told she had been replaced.Why do you go on and on?
If the truth of it is that God is perfect and the only holy thing and the only thing worth glory and honor and living for, why do you go on like this, with your words and your foolish writing?
'Cause I've spent my whole life searching desperately
To find out that grace requires nothing of me.
(Atlas:One | Sleeping At Last)
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