Strength and dignity

 are her clothing,

and she smiles at the future.

She opens her mouth in wisdom,

and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.

Proverbs 31:25

NASB

Dear son,

So far I’ve talked to you about three kinds of women to avoid: the Manipulator, the Shamer, and the Drama Queen. Every woman I know has these tendencies, including me. These are ways women turn to in order to cope with past hurts or present helplessness.

But we don’t have to become entrenched in manipulation. We don’t have to give in to drama. We can stop it in its tracks if we fully entrust our lives to Jesus. We can humble ourselves, confess our sinful leanings and become beautiful.

But there is one more kind of woman I want to warn you about. I’ll call her the Needy Woman. And I’m not saying no man should ever marry this kind of woman. I’m warning you specifically because of your vision and calling to spiritual leadership in the church. The Needy Woman will engulf an enormous amount of a man’s time and attention in order to bring her to a place of spiritual and emotional dependence on God.

In many ways I was this kind of woman when your dad married me. I was barely 19 years old, mature and responsible on the surface, but dependent and needy whenever my carefully constructed corner of the world hit any sort of turbulence.

Your dad patiently led me into a deeper walk with God, never shaming me for my fearfulness or social inadequacies. But he also did not let my neediness hold him back from fulfilling the ministry he was called to.

To be honest, dear son of mine, I did hold him back. I cried when our monthly calendar planning outlined too many nights alone. I complained about his distraction, got my feelings hurt far too easily. I tried too hard to control a man who was born to lead, not to follow my ideas of a hunky-dory life.

In God’s unexplainable kindness, He matured me by constantly stretching me beyond myself. I wanted to be independent but I had no idea how to depend on God for my strength.  Then when disaster struck and I was diagnosed with progressive hearing lost and told I’d be deaf before long, I fell completely apart. And you know my story because you’ve heard it a hundred times.

God used that diagnosis to bring me into complete dependence on Himself.

To need Him alone. 

No one else could come close to bringing me the relief I needed from the fear and dread I felt at the prospect of going deaf.

That’s why I want you to avoid taking on the responsibility of a needy woman. To stop yourself from assuming that in your great strength you can help a woman whose helplessness may seem so appealing at first.

And though our marriage is strong and my respect for your dad is immense, it could have gone a different direction. Your dad, great spiritual leader that he is, could not have made me strong. He pointed me in the right direction, but I had to go there all by myself. And frankly, the only reason I followed that path to utter dependence on God is because in my failure I saw a terrifying glimpse of who I would become if something didn’t change immediately.

So, from personal experience, let me leave you my list of signs of…

THE NEEDY WOMAN: 

1. The needy woman is reluctant to go any where without you by her side.
2. The needy woman always needs more time with you.
3. The needy woman has no long-term goals of her own to drive her days.
4. The needy woman gets her feelings hurt frequently.
5. The needy woman will pull you away from friends and family and want you all to herself.
6. The needy woman is easily intimidated by strong women.
7. The needy woman is often critical of people who are different than her.
8. The needy woman often appeals to a strong man’s strength, but will suck him dry.
9. The needy woman resists suggestions to broaden her world, preferring to avoid adventure and remain in the confines of her safe structure.
10. The needy woman requires vast amounts of reassurance, never having enough encouragement to fill her empty reservoir.

Please note, dear son. A needy woman is not bad. She is usually sweet and gentle and full of grace. But your calling will require a wife who is willing to let you go, just like I had to learn to let your dad go. Just like Tammy has to let your brother go. Just like most women of hard driving men have to allow their men space to follow their vision fully.

I love you, Matt, and am praying that you lean on God’s wisdom as you live your life. May He bring you a good and godly wife in His perfect timing.

From my heart,

Mom

Strength and dignity

 are her clothing,

and she smiles at the future. 

She opens her mouth in wisdom,

and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. 

Proverbs 31:25

NASB

Dear son,

Can you imagine what it would be like to wake up next to a woman every morning for the rest of your life who “smiles at the future”? A woman who so fully trusts God that even when life is hard and not what she wants, she could find hope and rest? And then spill that bright vision of possibility all over you… and your children… and everyone who steps into her circle of relationship?

Can you imagine what it would be like to live with a woman who is fascinated by you? Who knows who you are with all your flaws and failures, and focuses on the good? Who watches when you mess up and instead of condemning or correcting or sighing or exploding, wraps her arms around you and loves you as you are right then and there?

Can you imagine?

Is that even possible?

Yes, Matt, I believe it is. I believe that a woman can choose to be kind. She’ll mess up sometimes, no doubt, but I believe that God has given every woman who fully gives her life to Him “everything pertaining to life and godliness”. (2 Peter 1:3)

Which means, no woman has to give into all those surging emotions we are born with. We can choose, instead, to bring those wild feelings to the Cross and let God help us work through to wisdom.

It’s not easy. But it’s doable because we serve a Redeemer who never stops redeeming all those raw, wounded, stubborn, self-willed parts of us as long as we let Him.

That said, my dear son, watch out for any woman who has not chosen that path of full surrender. She may be nice and charming and alluring and compelling, but if she’s not fully submitted her will to Him she has the capacity to make your life miserable.

How will you know?

A woman who is still determined to protect herself will be all about herself.

A woman who is determined to submit herself to God will be all about others.

It’s that simple.

Now here are my lists…

THE DRAMA QUEEN:

1. The Drama Queen always brings the conversation back to herself, her stories, her accomplishments, her feelings.
2. The Drama Queen decides how much attention she needs from you and lets you know in no uncertain terms if you’ve failed to give her what she needs.
3. The Drama Queen is thrilled with your successes because it makes her look good, but she’s intolerant of any areas of your life that she deems less than worthy of her approval.
4. The Drama Queen justifies explosions or sulking as a means of punishing you or others.
5. The Drama Queen thinks the world revolves around her needs and therefore your life must revolve around her needs.
6. The Drama Queen can be incredibly generous, but in the end, all her giving is with the expectation of attention and recognition.

THE KIND WOMAN:

1. The Kind Woman is all about you. Whoever she’s with gets the full focus of her attention and interest.
2. The Kind Woman does not demand more than you are able to give, though she may gently and honestly bring her needs to your attention.
3. The Kind Woman waits a while before she acts on how she feels. She is distrustful of her own emotions and hesitant to make judgments based on how she feels. Instead she brings her feelings before the Father and asks for wisdom.
4. The Kind Woman is not critical. She sees you in the best possible light, openly admiring the man you are.
5. The Kind Woman adapts herself to you while remaining fully who she is. She brings her beauty to your vision and enhances your life while delighting in her own.

I do believe such women exist, Matthew, and here’s why: I know these kinds of women. They’re not perfect, but my goodness, they’re wonderful to be around. They are women like your Grandma Ruth. They can often be found serving somewhere behind the scenes— stroll through the children’s area at church and you’ll find a whole bevy of Kind Women. Women who are willing to wipe bottoms and corral kids with a smile on their face. Sometimes you can spot a kind woman loving on “the least of these”, people who are different or annoying or less than ideal.

May I respectfully offer one more word of caution?

Kind women are not always beauty queens. They are inclined to be understated rather than flashy. Their beauty may take a second look to discover. I have seen so many of these kind women emerge into breathtaking beauty by the love of their good husbands. There is something about a man finding you worth pursuing that often causes a woman to do more to enhance her beauty, to do her own version of a makeover in recognition of a man’s love of beauty.

You know I am praying for you, Matt, and for the other men who are in this process of preparing for a wife. Be wise. Be kind yourself. Pay attention. Don’t be passive. There is a woman out there just waiting to join her future to yours.

From my heart,

Mom

I was 14 the first time I stepped through the doors of a real church. Oh I’d tramped through countless cathedrals in my early years growing up in Europe. Taken tours, listened to lectures about commissioned artistry, admired stained glass windows and plunked my pennies in the locked offering box. And I’d occasionally sat through traditional services under a scratchy straw Easter hat swinging my soon to be hopelessly scuffed white patent leather Mary Jane’s.

But those churches seemed set in a different dimension entirely than the church that drew me in, caught my heart, and, if I may be so bold— saved my life.

Los Gatos Christian Church met in a refurbished warehouse nestled in the hills near my home. With its redwood walls, load bearing beams, and exposed aggregate floors, it looked like no other church I’d ever seen.

And it was packed; wall-to-wall people. And decidedly unchurch-like-loud with the voices of genuinely happy people all shoving past each other to lay claim to a cold metal chair to call their own.

From the moment I walked in those doors I knew I wanted whatever these people had. I wanted in. I wanted to be a part of this, to lay claim to my own seat right in the front row.

And this church, according to the new generation of experts in the know— did it all wrong.

It was, in the derogatory terms that make me cringe, a Big Box church. An attractional model.

And that, in case you didn’t know, is bad— very bad.

Not a small group program in sight.

But for me, what happened every week in that big box felt very much like a massive family reunion. With aunts and uncles and second-cousins-once-removed, and a whole cadre of white haired grandparents who thought I was “so cute, and way too thin, and wouldn’t I love to come for dessert?”

Gosh they loved me well.

I vividly remember one of my first weeks there when a bunch of kids way too cool for this still dorky-recent-expatriate, invited me to tumble into their fleet of teenage cast-off cars and meet at Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlor.

Believe me, no one in my rich suburban high school had ever invited me anywhere in the months since I’d arrived back on American soil. In my brand new J.C. Penny Catalogue clothes (the height of fashion in 1970’s expatriate Europe) I stuck out like a sore thumb— or a geek— or maybe it was a dork back in those days.

But these kids didn’t care. They just swooped me into their happy world and fed me ice cream.

When the pastor of that church strode over to our waitress abusing table and, at the behest of the kids, performed his comedic face shaking, spittle loosening imitation of who-knows-what, I was stunned.

And oh-my-gosh, he wore a suit! No black robe, no choking clerical collar, just the kind of clothes everyone’s dad wore to work every day back then.

And they called him Marvin. Not reverend, not His Holiness, not even Mister.

Nowadays the guy would be lashed in blogs and denigrated in seminars bemoaning his CEO status. This was top down leadership at its peak. But all those leadership faux pas didn’t seem to stop God from using him to change the lives of hundreds— maybe thousands of people.

And me.

Over time I began to learn that the thing that drew these people together and welled up in singing and clapping and laughing and note-taking camaraderie wasn’t a thing at all— but a person.

They told me about Jesus, certain I would want to know. Not in the least bit subtle or seeker friendly.

And I did want to know. And I did want Him. Because if He could create their brand of actual life-giving happiness in me— well, who wouldn’t do anything to have that?

So I signed on, joined up, and started taking notes with everyone else.

Was I genuine? Sincere? Probably not.

Mostly I just wanted to fit in with a fantastic group of new friends. I copied them in every way I could. From the way I held my Bible— a cool new paperback version called The Way— to the sweater I now wore over my skin baring halter-top.

But before long, my craving for these church people’s approval gave way to a craving for more of this Jesus they so obviously loved. And with their help I learned and grew to understand things I’d never known before. I began to change, not just on the outside, but somewhere down deep.

I fell in love with Jesus.

I remember sitting at the end of a dock at a camp called Hume Lake. I’d been roused from my bunk by the sound of each of my friends slipping out into the early morning.  I knew where they were going and felt that subtle pressure to go there to.

It was my first attempt to try this thing they all did called, “a quiet time”.

The words of Matthew drew me in as I underlined, I think, most of the book. I skipped breakfast that day (well, the place was infamous for the glue like oatmeal they served) to power through those words that seemed to come to life.

No wonder most my friends got up at ungodly hours every morning to do “devotions”. I felt my soul fill up as I feasted on the words.

The day I was baptized wearing a funky white robe while every one of my friends and new family swayed to the Old Rugged Cross, was the highlight of my life. I filled that baptistery with salted tears of the purest joy I had ever known.

Just remembering the pastor who taught me… the kids who included me… and all the people who loved me… brings back that rush of well being that comes only rarely in real life.

Why do I love the Church? With all our flaws and failures and inadequacies and ridiculous fads?

Because when I needed what they had—

They gave me Jesus.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Now to be perfectly honest, that church no longer exists. The building is there, occupied by a different church under new leadership. Los Gatos Christian Church slowly died and was buried. May she rest in peace.

But maybe churches are not meant to live forever. Maybe some die and new life emerges from the fertile soil of a once great church. And maybe this church my husband started with my son— the one my son now leads— maybe we’re one of those emerging churches, different, but so much the same as that place that brought me home.