On Hitting 9 Months
In his new book, Start, writer Jon Acuff calls us to live lives of purpose, adventure and, to use his term, awesomeness. To start such a journey, he says, don’t worry about the end, just start. He writes:
“It’s impossible to accurately predict the finish. Part of the reason it’s so difficult is that the path changes by the time we get to the end.”
“You just have to start.”
With this post, this blog hits the 9 month mark. That’s about 274 days of duking it out with Mr. Tertullian. And for me it really has been an exercise in just starting. I’m not sure where it will end, exactly, but I have realized a couple of things as I’ve been starting.
First, as I’ve posted before, it feels vulnerable to be putting this stuff out there. Just the other day, I got a Facebook message from a friend who clearly has a different perspective on this stuff. And while the tone of the exchange was more than civil, it still pressed my emotional buttons. For me, then, it’s vital to hold onto grace, grace for the process, for the learning mode I’m in, grace for others, and grace for myself.
Next, sometimes I worry that I’m being redundant, or a broken record. This is especially true when I launch one of those posts that bemoans the status quo. To my rescue comes a word like this one, from Ello’s World’s tumblr page, in a piece here about diversity in the publishing industry:
I was going to post this up on my blog and my daughter was like, you are talking about diversity again. Don’t you ever feel like you’re talking and nobody’s listening? Do you ever think it’s not worth it? And I was so sad to hear her say that. I told her “If you want change, you have to keep starting up the same conversation over and over because someone is always listening. And maybe some day, it will reach those someones who will go from just nodding their heads to wanting to do something about it. That’s why we must keep saying the same thing, no matter how tired we get.” And she said, “Post it.”
So far it’s been 9 months of “post it.” I hope you’re listening.
Lastly, the more I start, the longer the road ahead seems. I see Tertullian all over the place! As a preview of coming attractions, here are a few topics that I’m batting around in my head: the Bible and male privilege, gender differences: nature or nurture, and a bit more on the feminism movement. Stay tuned!
At the end of his book, Acuff expresses his dream for his readers:
“I hope you punched fear in the face. I hope you escaped average. I hope you figured out what your diamonds are and started doing work that matters. I hope you realized that the door to purpose has been unlocked this whole time. And when you survey your life and find something else that could be more awesome, I hope you’ll do what I’m going to do once I finish writing this sentence. Start again.”
Whenever Tertullian and I are done with this conversation, I plan to have done these things. For now, thanks for starting with me.
Dixon in 2016!
My family’s lot in life is to have a history major for a father.
So, among other things, this means that I’m at least tempted to stop at every roadside historical marker, park, museum and monument. And while much of the time–with a bit of, ahem, assistance–I manage to resist the temptation, sometimes you just can’t.
Which is why we found ourselves touring the Gerald Ford Museum in Grand Rapids, MI over lunch today.
Jealous?
Turns out Jerry Ford has a pretty nice museum that honors his 70’s era, partial term administration. In particular, we appreciated the oval office and cabinet room mock-ups. The section on Watergate was interesting too, of course. I found myself seriously questioning Ford’s decision to pardon Nixon. I mean, you can understand his impulse of wanting to spare the country the pain, but, you know, sometimes the best way to recover from pain is to go right through it.
In any event, another section that caught my eye was a piece on Betty Ford, Jerry’s activist wife. Cancer crusader, addiction confronter and, turns out, women’s rights champion. Here’s a shot of Betty proudly sporting her ERA pin:
I absolutely love how Betty Ford levied her influence with regard to women in government:
“I used everything,” she admitted later, “including pillow talk at the end of the day, when I figured he was most tired and vulnerable.”
The First Lady’s pillow talk and otherwise resulted in a Ford presidency that had women in upper leadership and, most notably, a January 1975 executive order establishing the National Commission on the Observance of the International Women’s Year. That’s a mouthful, but an important one.
In a day and age where the United States ranks a pathetic 91st in women’s participation in the national legislature (a full 37 percentage points behind leader Rwanda and just behind the Slovak Republic, Indonesia and some country called Sao Tome and Principe), it’s time for more of a dose of that kind of influence.
At Jerry’s place, you couldn’t laze around in the oval office display, but you could sit in the cabinet chairs, which is how I found myself taking this picture:
Trust me, if you could have any Dixon in the oval office, you’d want this one. So, join me. Make the country a better place.
Dixon in 2016!
A Father’s Day Prayer
Jesus, yesterday was Father’s Day.
And so I want to say that I love being a dad. Thanks for that blessing and privilege. Our four kids are treasures for Amy and I. We are profoundly grateful that you would entrust them to us to guide, grow and shape.
We’re grateful for that, and yet in the same breath, we exclaim “help!” Because for us parenting is difficult. It’s a joy, but it’s difficult. No doubt, we rely on you to show us the way as parents.
In particular, help us to raise kids who grow up to know you and follow you. Jesus, that ‘s our greatest plea as parents! That our kids would love you deeply with their lives, and live the abundant life that you both promise and deliver.
And, as that happens, help us to raise these kids to honor you in how they steward their power and giftings.
For Josh, I pray that he would grow to understand the power that culture gives him because he’s a man. Then help him to steward that power in a way that blesses those around him, particularly the women in his life. Make our son an advocate and an empowerer.
And for our girls, I pray that they would deeply know that they are loved by you, that they are gifted by you and that they are called to use those gifts to expand your Kingdom on earth. Encourage them in these things, especially as they bump into the ceiling of male privilege.
For all four, surround them with a community that blesses and affirms who they are and how they are wired. We’ll do our best to steer them in these ways, but Jesus, we need your help.
May all of this be so, for the sake of glory. Amen.
The above picture is from my seminary graduation last Saturday. Want to get to know the village that God put around me during my degree program? Here.
For Once, I Agree with Tertullian
Deep down, I think Tertullian was one big softie.
Sure, Tertullian is the guy who said all sorts of misogynistic things about the women of his day. He did.
But then he also said this:
“How beautiful, then, the marriage of two Christians, two who are one in hope, one in desire, one in the way of life they follow, one in the religion they practice. They are as brother and sister, both servants of the same Master. Nothing divides them, either in flesh or in spirit. They are, in very truth, two in one flesh; and where there is but one flesh there is also but one spirit. They pray together, they worship together, they fast together; instructing one another, encouraging one another, strengthening one another. Side by side they visit God’s church and partake of God’s Banquet; side by side they face difficulties and persecution, share their consolations. They have no secrets from one another; they never shun each other’s company; they never bring sorrow to each other’s hearts. ” (Ad Uxorem II, 8, 7)
Pretty good, right?
Yesterday was Mother’s Day, in case you missed the millions of Mother’s Day memes posted on Tumblr. Or the mom and kid candids that graced facebook walls. Or the 140 character twitter tributes.
In that spirit, and in the spirit of Tertullian’s celebration of marriage, I thought I would use this space today to celebrate and honor the best mom we’ve here in the Dixon house. After all, not only was yesterday Mother’s Day, today is Amy’s birthday.
But when I went to her to ask if I could dedicate a post to how generous she is with others, how patient she is with our kids, how creative she is with her stories, how stinkin’ wise she is always, how humble she aspires to be, how serious she is about growing in her faith, how I love how we are constantly on the same page about the things that matter, how every morning I wake up thanking God that I get to be married to this amazing person…
…when I asked her if I could share these things, if I could shout them from the cyber rooftops…
…she said “no.”
So I won’t. I’ll take a pass. Instead I’ll just say, “When it comes to my marriage, I agree with Tertullian.”
Women’s Liberty Bell Blog
What’s the best thing about blogging?
I’m going to call it a tie. On one hand, it’s tough to beat the actual process of writing. I love the moment when I sit down in front of the computer, search my mind, heart and soul and then try to wrangle words into a structure that will communicate what I’m processing. It’s a rush.
On the other hand, I’ve really enjoyed the interaction with others. Blogging has connected me in all sorts of ways. For instance, when something gender related goes viral in the news, my inbox explodes with people forwarding it to me. Or, the other day, I had a conversation with a blog reader who looked me up in order to ask a few questions.
And then there’s the Women’s Liberty Bell Blog.
Through a string of connections, on Tuesday I found myself posting on the Women’s Liberty Bell Blog. Here’s a bit about this blog:
“The purpose of the Women’s Liberty Bell Blog is to promote dialogue around how to more fully enlist our faith traditions in the ongoing work of uplifting girls/women around the world, not only in the form of charity/humanitarian efforts, but even more fundamentally to establish a very clear, spiritual framework for women’s human equality around the world.”
What about the Liberty Bell imagery?
“Katharine Wentworth Ruschenberger commissioned a replica of the Liberty Bell to help spread the cause of woman suffrage in Pennsylvania. The inscription on the bell likened the denial of votes for women to the tyranny of English rule which fueled the American Revolution. It differed from its brother only in that it lacked a crack and bore the inscription, Establish Justice. The 2,000 pound bell became something of a sensation. It toured 5,000 miles in a flatbed truck built specifically for this purpose, criss-crossing Pennsylvania. It eventually appeared at suffrage events in Chicago and Washington, DC. Its travels were marked by large crowds and band-led parades. Miniature versions of the bell were sold to defray the cost of its tour. It was a media darling. The bell’s clapper was chained into silence until the passage of the 19th Amendment. In a ceremony held in Independence Square in September, 1920, the bell was raised and rung by a woman dressed as Justice, signaling true liberty in the United States: suffrage for women. The Justice Bell now resides in the Washington Memorial Chapel at Valley Forge.”
Pretty cool. More on the Women’s Liberty Bell, also known as the Justice Bell, here.
So it was a delight to post yesterday, in response to a prompt about men’s experience in the movement toward gender equality. You can find my post here. Thanks to the folks at the Women’s Liberty Bell Blog for letting me “chime” in, and I look forward to coming back again sometime.
That Sound You Hear is a Paradigm Shifting…
Two weeks ago now, together with a friend and staff partner, I had the privilege of leading 14 college students through a week-long seminar entitled “Women in the Bible.”
Our main goal was to help students explore the Scriptures in order to understand God’s intent for the relationship between the genders. Along the way we hoped to see students experience healing, equipping and, of course, a shift in their preconceived paradigms.
By and large, mission(s) accomplished.
In particular, for many of the men in the room the week was an opportunity to have their theology challenged. Like Tertullian, these men have been breathing the air of male privilege long enough to have their worldviews firmly pegged with patriarchy as their default setting. So praise God with me that after last week they are on a different journey.
Two of the men are poets, and with their permission I’m going to share their pieces. Read and enjoy the sound, the sound of a paradigm shifting.
Here’s Darren’s piece:
Disconnect
A chasm? A Valley? A Wall?
Yes a Wall
Firm and smooth
Cold and calculated
Strong…Perfected by years of patient building
Piece By Piece
Formed to fit me tight and close.
Familiar…But there are cracks
They are small now
Reminders of past failures in design
Weakness…Spider-webbed like glass struck with a blunt object
But these walls are not naturalI didn’t start out this way
I was taught to build
Taught to be strong
Strong for my family
Strong for my friends
Strong for my job
Strong to provide
I was taught by the men around meBut these walls muffle the world around me
I hear it
It is faint
An echo of the true sound
The sound of waves that crash against my walls
The waves of injustice, of women’s plight, of passing of family members,
The cries of shame
The echo’s of the true sound
Rich and vibrant
But the walls whisper of calm and peace
These walls are strong.
I should know I built themBut my heart is stirred by the echo’s
They vibrate at the same frequency
So my heart flutters
But no matter how much it is magnified it is still small
Dampened by the walls themselvesWhy did I build these walls?
To support others?…
Sounds good
To protect myself?…
Sadly more likely
But my heart’s flutters hint at a design flaw.
These walls are permanent …
Built to withstand brute force and slow erosion
What now?Darren Roan
One mans attempt to describe
the emotional barriers
he feels sometimes
And you’ll find Jason’s here.
Prophetic Picture?
Well, we’re in the thick of it now!
Our “Women in the Bible” seminar has been profound. Together we’ve journeyed from Genesis to Judges to John to 1 Timothy. We’ve explored egalitarianism, complementarianism and like 5 other -isms. On Tuesday we went head to head with patriarchy. Our students are learning about roles, rules and the cultural misrepresentation of women. God has been present in the a-ha moments and in the tense times when nothing seems clear.
Through it all, there’s a sense that these are exactly the kind of conversations that the church desperately needs to have.
And so I’m grateful.
As a teacher/leader, I’ve been processing lots of things as well. My paradigms have been challenged. I’ve been asked questions for which I have no answers. And, let’s face it, a week of coming face to face with people’s pain, anger and fear will wear anyone out!
But one particular thing that God has had for me this week is something I’ve blogged about before:
For me this stuff is deeply personal.
Of course I mean that as I guy who is cares about these issues. But today I mean it more as a dad of three girls. Because for me to talk about how male privilege binds, inhibits and oppresses women is to look at my three girls and partially understand, and therefore grieve for, what lies ahead of them.
So all the more reason for seminars like this one. All the more reason for creating contexts to dialogue about the Bible. And all the more reason to have the hard conversations, face our fears and seek the Lord together for an end to privilege. Because, in the end:
We need a church where both men and women can flourish.
We need that as a church. I need that for my kids.
So if someday she’s been called by God to use her teaching gifts to draw a crowd of men and women into deeper, more reconciled fellowship with God and with one another, somebody remember to roll out this prophetic picture:
This Stuff Matters
This week, Tertullian and I are taking our show on the road. Together with a good friend and co-worker, I’m teaching a week long seminar on the topic of “Women in the Bible.” 14 college students will be taking the plunge with us.
So this week we’ll be opening the Scriptures, watching some videos and reading some articles. Along the way we’ll have some intense conversations I’m sure. All with the goal of helping these students think through what the Bible has to say about women in general, and the relationship between men and women in particular.
Last night we started by having a time to articulate our questions. And after listening to their questions, let there be no doubt:
This stuff matters.
Here’s the list of the questions that our students are bringing into the seminar this week:
Is there a hierarchy of gender in God’s eyes?
Why are men represented more than women in the Bible?
What exactly are the roles that each gender has in the church, in ministry and in the home?
Why is there God the Father only, if both men and women are made in God’s image?
How do men and women work together peacefully?
What are some common problems between men and women in ministry?
How do we figure out what is from God and what is influenced by culture?
Why don’t churches discuss this topic?
Simple, huh? Now to seek some answers! If you’re the praying type, we’d appreciate them! And I’ll give an update in the Thursday post.
Taking My Cue from Jesus
I don’t know about you, but Jesus indicts me. As in, he challenges me to be more than I am. He raises the bar. I mean, I get him figured out only to learn there’s so much more.
Over the last 3 weeks, I’ve been thinking about Jesus and how he treated women in his day. Jesus was/is a gamechanger. He really saw women, he trusted them, he taught them as disciples, he respected them, he valued their stories and he mourned with them.
And here’s the kicker…he did it all publicly.
What I mean is that there was a public dimension to each of the stories. It’s not like Jesus was going around empowering women behind locked doors; he was engaging with women on the streets, in house meetings and surrounded by crowds.
This blog has been up and running for about 5 months now. And of course it’s public. In fact, I like to think that in some way, writing this content in this type of setting is me following Jesus. To go one step further, it’s me publicly surrendering privilege in pursuit of Jesus.
So if you’ll indulge me today, I want to offer a couple of reflections on what it’s felt like to be challenging Tertullian:
First, it’s been wildly encouraging. Because the vast majority of comments, on the blog, on facebook, in my inbox and in person have gone something like this: “thank you so much for taking these issues on and for encouraging me to wrestle with them.” When it’s Wednesday night and I’m not sure I’ll make my Thursday morning deadline, these comments push me onward.
Next, it’s been personally enriching. If I’m honest, there’s a sense in which if no one else ever read this, it would still be worth the effort. Because the process of writing gives me life. And the process of writing about male privilege teaches me. I’m being shaped as I write. And, believe me, I’ve got blog fodder for years to come. So get ready Mr. Tertullian.
Finally, it’s been horribly intimidating. After all, the more I write the less I feel like I know. This is learn by doing stuff for sure. In addition, public equals vulnerable for me and so putting my thoughts out there has been a sobering experience. I’m someone who is allergic to self promotion, so the trick is to remember that it’s the ideas that are being promoted. It’s the cause. Ultimately, it’s Jesus.
At any rate, let me offer a hearty “thank you” for journeying with me in this process. I’m grateful.
On Really Valuing Someone’s Story
Note: this is the sixth post in a series exploring how Jesus related with women in his day. Find the introductory post here, and the previous posts here, here, here and here.
Danish author Isak Dinesen (Babette’s Feast, Out of Africa) once said this:
“To be a person is to have a story to tell.”
She’s right of course. Everyone does have a story. But here’s the thing: while it’s true that everybody’s got a story, it’s also true that not everyone’s story is allowed to be told.
That’s how it was in Jesus’ day. Why? Because a woman was considered to be property. Like a dining room table or your favorite pair of shoes. No personhood, no story.
This makes Jesus’ determined and persistent use of women’s stories in his teaching extraordinarily counter-cultural. Consider the widow and her single gold coin from Luke 21:1-4:
“As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. 2 He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 3 “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. 4 All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”
Or how about the woman who anoints Jesus’ head for burial in Mark 14:1-11. Remember what Jesus says about the value of her story at the end of the passage?
“Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”
What an honor.
I think one of the ways that a guy like me can surrender his privilege is to remember, understand, learn from and celebrate women’s stories.
My maternal grandmother died in January 2008. But if she was alive today, our family would be preparing to celebrate her centennial birthday on February 19th. I wrote my version of her story after she passed and I offer it below.
Be blessed by it. As I am. As Jesus is.
Don’t get me wrong, my Grandma had some quick wit. A couple years ago I was teaching on 2 Timothy and there’s this part where Paul reminds Timothy of his faith heritage, which came in part through his grandmother Lois. As I was telling the students about how I resonate with that text, I happened to mention that my almost 95 year old Grandma had once briefly dated Moses. Later, when I told her that story, she paused for a moment and said, “Mercy. Well, you know, Rob, that Moses, he was a wild man.”
So she had some quick wit, but the three things I will remember most about my Grandma were her gentleness, her faith and her toughness.
Gentleness is a lost art. Who’s gentle anymore anyway?!? The closest my Grandma ever came to swearing was an emphatic “mercy.” Getting cut off by a bad driver on Foothill Blvd would solicit a robust “oh my.” And a shanked tee shot from my Grandfather over the fence and onto the 210 at Verdugo Hills would warrant an aghast “my stars, Ford.” Gentleness. My Grandma had a kind word for everyone, she was a great listener and, even when I was dominating her in a game of Aggravation, it was clear that she was crazy in love with me.
Second, faith oozed out of my Grandma. It was authentic, real and simple. There was this one time when she and my Grandpa led their pool cleaner to Jesus. They prayed together right there in her living room and then he went out to pour in the chlorine! Amazing. I remember so clearly being challenged by her faith. When she led the pool guy to Jesus I was working hard in my dorm to love my non-believing friends, and all of a sudden I was losing to Grandma 1-0! Honestly, the thing that feels the hardest to me in losing my Grandma is knowing that I lose, though only in an earthly sense, the consistent and faith-filled prayers that she would offer to Jesus on our behalf.
Lastly, my Grandma was tough. I mean tough. The kind of tough that could grow up on a farm in Missouri, that could wrangle three wild boys into godly grown men, and that could survive a kidney operation while her wacky husband was kayaking the freakin’ Alaskan Yukon. She wanted to live to be 100 and came up just short. Toughness comes from the core of who you are, and in that sense Grandma was great to her core.
A couple days ago, Grandma told a nurse “I’m just ready to go see Jesus.” Amen, Grandma. This morning you got your lifelong wish. Enjoy your rewards in heaven and hear the voice of Jesus say “well done, good and faithful servant!” Say hi to Grandpa for us. We love you.
Challenging Tertullian 