I wanted to share with you a letter I received recently from Lt. Col. (RET) Doug Gilbert.  I met him in Kansas City recently as I was sharing with Dr. Andy Johnson’s class on missional theology at Nazarene Theological Seminary.  What Doug said struck me as crucial for us today as we think about shaping Christian identity.  For those of you in church leadership there may be some lessons and new practices we need to create in order to effect a complete change of identity. 

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David,
Hello! I finished the spring semester and am already engaged with a summer course but thought I needed to honor your request. I currently live in Lansing, KS, having retired from the Army in 2003.  I will be a senior MDiv student at Nazarene Theological Seminary in the fall. I am studying theology because God made me. More specifically, I have seen the devastation caused by untrained and under-trained people assuming that God had called them to be pastors and concluding God’s call was all they needed. If pastors are like doctors of the soul, then it seems they should be trained. I would not want a first year pre-med student trying to remove my appendix simply because he felt called to be a surgeon.

The point that you asked me to discuss relates to the manner in which the military attempts to change the life narrative of individuals entering the service. The counter-position to entering the Christian life (the reason for your question, I believe) is the assumption of a completely new identity for a soldier which seems not to happen when one becomes a Christian in our culture.

When one joins a church, there is the assumption that a new communal identity is formed; but in actuality, there generally is no substantive change. In contrast the general experience for the civilian becoming a soldier is a complete change in self-identity and orientation. The narrative they occupy is completely different. They live communally during the initial period (boot camp). They dress differently. They change their appearance. They adopt a completely new vocabulary. If you are around soldiers sometime, try listening in on their conversations and find out how many terms they unconsciously use that you will need explained.

Historically, the most extreme example is the French Foreign Legion, an organization which seals a legionnaire's previous history and gives him a new name. It is as if he has no previous life.

Much of this new identity centers around forcing people to accomplish feats they do not believe they could have ever done before, things significantly more challenging than they would have ever attempted in civilian life. The tougher the challenge and the fewer that make it, the stronger the bond created between those who have succeeded.

The western church expects little and gets little in return.  Of course, much of what we do in the military is not directly applicable to church life, for one thing I do not believe the church wants to create a group of elite Christians proud of being a select few. Still when there is no real challenge, nothing epic, nothing heroic about being a Christian, perhaps we should not be too surprised that there is little change in identity. We should also probably not be too surprised that men especially find church boring.

I hope this at least begins to touch on some of what you wanted to address. Blessings

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Thanks Colonel for your service to our country.  Thanks too for getting us thinking about how we might shape new identities for Christ-followers.  I’d be interested in your take on what the Colonel has said and ways we can call people to more heroic lives of faith.

In the January-February edition of Relevant magazine (relevantmagazine.com) there is an article by Christine and Adam Jeske entitled “13 Signs You Need to Get Unstuck.”  Number 7 in their 13 signs is this: “Your Standard Response to, “How Are You? Includes the Word ‘Busy.’”  Their article got me thinking about several things but especially about a problem which I think many of us have.  Whether we are “busy” or not—and we usually are—that has become everyone’s stock response.  How many times have you told someone you’re “busy” in the last week or heard others say they are “busy”?  I know I have.  It seems like we are addicted to busy-ness.

We treat busy as if it is some virtue, but it is not.  Drug dealers and sex-traffickers can be busy.  So can health care workers and CEOs. But busy is not a virtue. In fact, it can be a real problem for our souls if we think somehow our worth is tied up with how busy we are.  Are we trying to justify our existence or our value?  Are we trying to underscore that we have skills that in short supply?  As Christine and Adam point out, we are all expendable, the sooner we realize that the better.

The real virtues, the real excellence of life, are found in other things.  Aristotle set the course for ethics when he defined the virtues as a balance between deficiency and excess.  The four cardinal virtues are: temperance, prudence, courage, and justice.  The Church over the centuries added to this number three theological virtues: faith, hope, and love (see 1 Corinthians 13). As you read carefully through the Scriptures, you will come across various lists of virtues.  Nowhere will “busy” be listed among them.  Here’s an example.  Paul lists the fruit of the Spirit as: unconditional love, joy, peace, patience, kindheartedness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22). Do you see “busy” in there.  No.  I didn’t think so. Virtue, not busy-ness, is where true excellence and value are found.

The answer to our addiction to busy-ness involves repentance.  The Greek word which translates “repentance” means literally, “a change of mind.”  In other words, we have to change the way we think about these matters. We must realize that busy-ness can and will kill you physically and spiritually.  We must confess to God and ourselves that our true value is not found in how much we accomplish but in becoming a person “conformed to the image of  [God’s] Son” (Romans 8:29). We must create sacred times and spaces to rest and live according to a different rhythm.  The Scriptures call this “the Sabbath.” Take a nap. Read something just for fun. Go for a walk. Share a meal with a friend. Take a real vacation.  Your work—for yourself, for your boss, and for God—will become more meaningful and productive if you learn to live into a restful rhythm of life.  A friend of mine says it this way (pardon the alliteration): divert daily, withdraw weekly, abandon annually.  The point is this: God made us to rest regularly in order to be at our best as we partner with Him in the ongoing work of creation.

The next time someone asks you, “How are you?” Resist the temptation to justify your existence by saying , “Oh, I’m busy . . . “  Instead, break the cycle of addiction and try some other response like, “I’m learning to rest.” 

What do you think is the best response to the question: “How are you?”

In The Story of The Voice (Thomas Nelson, 2013) I discuss certain features of the translation philosophy behind The Voice Bible.  In chapter 4 I deal with the claim that some translations are “word-for-word” while others are “thought-for-thought.”  This seems to be a straightforward and clear way of classifying translations, but there are many difficulties in attempting to draw any kind of strict line between a word and a thought.  After all, a word is a merely a thought that has been expressed.  I won’t go into the full argument here, but there is a side of it I’d like to talk about.

A word, as you know, has a meaning or a range of meanings, what linguists call “the semantic field.”  A word like “run” provides a good case study.  In American English you can run a race, run a program, run for office, run a fever, run behind (be late), run amuck (go wild), and be run over.  In the long run or the short run, you can run afoul of the law.  After you run an errand, you can build a dog run in your backyard.  If you wish to run up to New York, make sure your ship doesn’t run aground. If you do, you will likely run into debt. Your favorite team may score the winning run in the last inning. In any case, time is running out for me to make my point. 

Here’s the point; every word has a dictionary meaning, often referred to as a denotation.  But every word or phrase also has a connotation, that is, associations that come along with that word.  Everyone who grew up speaking English knows the difference, for example, between a house and a home. Any serious attempt to translate from one language to another must take into account not only the denotation of the word or phrase; it must also come to grips with its connotation.

I was talking about this recently at Nazarene Theological Seminary in Kansas City with students and faculty.  As we were discussing this issue, Prof. Tim Crutcher of Southern Nazarene University in Oklahoma mentioned “apple pie.”  I immediately thought: “Brilliant!” Here is why.  Apple pie may be one of many tasty options on the desert menu, but it is the only desert item so closely associated with America.  The phrase “as American as apple pie” says it all.  The denotation of apple pie is clear. Apple pie is a baked food filled with sweetened apples and cinnamon surrounded by a crust.  But the connotation of apple pie goes far beyond a tasty desert.  Apple pie suggests America, family traditions, good times, everything good and decent about our country.  

As we worked to translate The Voice Bible, we tried to understand not only the meanings of words (denotations) but their associations (connotations) as well.  This is challenging because it means taking into account not only modern, cultural meanings but ancient ones as well.  Let me give a brief example, but there are many more described in The Story of The Voice. 

Take the word “love.”  It is an important word in the Bible.  In the modern world “love” is primarily associated with feelings. Love expresses what we like or who we are attracted to.  We use the word “love” in many contexts like: “I love my wife”; “I love my job”; “I love my laptop”; “I love my car.” What we mean by all these loves is quite different.  At least I hope it is.

When we come to the Bible, however, the word “love” is not feelings-oriented but action-oriented.  Love expresses what a person does out of care and concern for the other.  Consider John 3:16.  Most translations render it: “For God so loved the world, . . .”  Now this is a perfectly good translation of the meaning of the word, but does it capture the connotation. A modern person might tend to think that God had a warm, fuzzy feeling toward the world and that is why he sent His Son.  I’ve even heard sermons which said this.  But that reading seems to miss John’s point altogether.  John 3:16 is about the action God took to express that love not the feeling that led to the action.  Again, love in the biblical period is action- not feeling-oriented.  This is why we chose to translate John 3:16 this way: 

For God expressed His love for the world in this way: He gave His only Son so that whoever believes in Him will not face everlasting destruction, but will have everlasting life.

John’s point—and it is not controversial—is that God has chosen in history to act in the best interests of those He has made by sending His Son.  In a covenant sense, God’s action constitutes God’s love.  Because love is action-oriented and not a feeling, love must be expressed.  Had God not acted, we would not know whether or not He loved. In fact, it would not be wrong to say, had God not acted, He would not have loved. 

As long as we read the word “love” in the Bible in some modern, sentimental way, we will be hard-pressed to capture much of what Scripture is trying to tell us.  If we will stop and consider not only the denotation (what a word means) but also its connotation (all of its relevant associations) we have a good chance of reading the Bible for all its worth.  A translation can go far in helping us draw these subtle but important distinctions, but there is no substitute for good, old fashioned study.

I think I’ll have a piece of apple pie.      

I traveled recently to Galveston to talk with a group of Young Life staffers.  Brian Reeder, one of the key people for the “Flagship” region of Young Life in southeast Texas, made my visit with them possible. Thanks, Brian.

It didn’t take me long to remember how incredible Young Life is. Great faith, amazing devotion to kingdom priorities, warm hospitality, a deep love for kids, and a fun-loving attitude have made Young Life a truly successful ministry for high school and college students since it began in Dallas in 1941.

Young Life has had a big impact on millions of kids who are now adults, and it has had an impact on The Voice Bible.  Frank Couch, executive editor on the project for Thomas Nelson, came to faith after hearing for the first time that Jesus the Anointed is the Son of God at a Young Life event in Berlin.  Six months later, on a ski trip to Switzerland sponsored by Young Life, Frank became a Christian. As a result of Young Life and a gift from his sister, Frank began to fall in love with Scripture. I detail more of Frank’s story in our book The Story of The Voice (Thomas Nelson, 2013).

As for me, even though I had accepted Christ and been baptized earlier in life, Young Life became an important part of my own spiritual journey.  In high school I met a fellow named Malcolm Ball who led the club I attended in Decatur, GA.  I don’t recall exactly how I met him, but I remember spending time with him and being fascinated by his ability to play the guitar.  I was just learning to play, and I recall several times when he showed me new chords to songs I was listening to on the radio.  Not your basic chords mind you—like C, D, Am, G—but cool chords like Emaj7sus. 

My other clear memory of those days is of Malcolm standing in front our Young Life club with a copy of the Bible in his hand.  As he read from it, the language sounded less like Shakespeare and more like the way people actually spoke.  I began hearing and understanding the Bible, it seemed like, for the first time. While I knew the King James Bible and the Good News Bible, I wasn’t familiar with the version he was reading from. One night he showed it to me. He told me it was the J. B. Phillips’ translation of the New Testament. 

I was so fascinated with the stories of the Bible I wanted to get my own copy. That was no easy task.  No Amazon.com in those days.  No Christian bookstore close to where I lived.  But I did find one and bought it when I attended Young Life camp at Windy Gap in North Carolina. I took it home, read it over and over again, and fell in love with the Bible.  That love has remained with me, because I went on to get PhD in New Testament.

I credit Malcolm Ball and Young Life for putting a copy of  J. B. Phillips’ translation in my hand.  Like many people I had tried to read the KJV and other translations and found it very difficult to start and stay with.  That is one reason why the Bible is the most owned and least read book out there. People may have a version, and they may commit to reading it daily but have faltered time and time again. They have good intentions but follow through is hard.  I would get discouraged in the “begats” and was confused more than once by statements like: “Wust not that I go?”   But when I took up and read the Phillips’ translation, I began to understand the Scriptures.  I began to hear and sense God speaking to us, in our day.

Over the last eight years as Frank Couch and I have talked about The Voice project, we’ve recalled how significant Young Life and the Phillips’ translation have been in both our lives.  We’ve hoped and imagined that The Voice Bible might do for this generation what Phillips’ did for us and many others.  Phillips never got around to publishing the full Bible; he only completed the New Testament.  I wish he had.  I could have used it many times.  Still he gave us a great gift.

C. S. Lewis made an interesting observation in the preface to Phillips’ translation of the NT letters (1947). He wrote:

The truth is that if we are to have translation at all we must have periodical re-translation.  There is no such thing as translating a book into another language once and for all, for a language is a changing thing. If your son is to have clothes it is no good buying him a suit once and for all: he will grow out of it and have to be re-clothed.

Some people think there ought to be a single translation of the Scriptures available, a one-size-fits-all version of the Holy Bible.  Mark Strauss and others have helped me realize how important it is for us to have all these different translations.  Every translation brings something to the table.  Some insight.  Some beauty.  Some nuance.  I am glad I can buy shirts in my size and shoes in my size.  I’m glad too that we don’t live at a time when we are limited to a one-size-fits-all version of the Bible.

This past Lenten season Jack Wisdom and I hosted a session on “Repentance” at Ecclesia Houston.  For six weeks we covered a variety of scriptural passages which talked about the damage done to ourselves and others by sin and the constant need we have for turning to God.  We touched on a variety of scriptural themes and books such as Jonah, Joel, Psalms, and 1 John in order to reflect on what it truly means to change our ways and turn to God.

One evening we tackled a particularly difficult saying of Jesus from Matthew 5:23-24:

Therefore, if you are bringing an offering to God and you remember that your brother is angry with you or holds a grudge against you, then leave you gift before the altar, go to your brother, repent and forgive one another, be reconciled, and then return to the altar to offer your gift to God.

Jesus is illustrating what “deeper righteousness” means. Some might look at those who attend church often as being righteous (that is, in a right and proper relationship to God).  Others might look at how much people give to the church as a measure of how right they are. But notice what Jesus says.  Deeper righteousness means—among other things—that when we recall a broken or injured relationship, we leave the altar and our gifts, go to our offended brother or sister, and make it right.  Then when things are right between you, come back to the altar and present your best to God. Regrettably, many continue to attend church, give their gifts, with the pain of broken relationships not far away.

Here is my concern.  I have seen many Christians, some of whom are church leaders, with a series of relational disasters in their pasts. They have broken with friends, broken with family, and broken with co-workers.  In other words they have left relational wreckage in their wakes all while pursuing their lives and ministry.  They blame others and justify themselves.  They were in the right; the other was in the wrong.  They were reasonable; the other unreasonable.  They may well celebrate God’s reconcilation of the world through Christ and yet, for reasons only they know, they refuse to pursue reconcilation in their own lives. My major concern here is not with the person who has an occasional break with someone—though that must be addressed--but with those who have bodies stacked deep and wide in their pasts. 

Deeper righteousness means that we pursue reconciliation before we give a dime or attend worship. The way Jesus puts it and the priority he gives it, it is clear that we must do everything in our power to be reconciled.  Notice.  It doesn’t matter whether you are the offender or the offendee.  It is not appropriate for you to wait until the other person makes the first move.  You must be one to humble ourselves and seek forgiveness.  It is hard to swallow your pride and “get low” in humility—as my friend Jack Wisdom puts it—especially if you are a leader. But it is important, especially for leaders, to be the example and show others how it must be done. If the other person fails to respond or rejects our repeated attempts to make things right, then we must mourn the loss and look forward to a day when God reconciles all things.

I had the privilege recently of sharing about the Voice project at Houston Graduate School of Theology.  This school is doing great things in Houston to prepare men and women for lives of service to the church and the world.  The president, Dr. James Furr, understands the times and is leading HGST to become a key place in America where students can explore significant aspects of the missional movement.  The acting provost, Dr. Chuck Pitts, was one of our scholar-reviewers on key books like Psalms and Jeremiah.  Dr. Pitts has added to this blog, most recently a meditation on Psalm 8.

Everywhere I go to talk about this project I meet men and women with interesting stories to tell. After I spoke at HGST, a woman came up with a story which struck at the heart of The Voice Bible. 

Patti is a tall and elegant woman.  She moves with the grace of a dancer because earlier in life she danced ballet.  She shared a story with me. I’d like to share it with you.

One day as the company of dancers was in rehearsal, they danced and danced their toes off on a newly choreographed piece.  Afterward, they were standing around the choreographer—Madame Bess—who was about 80 years old at the time.  They were trying to catch their breathes and waiting for some feedback.  Madame Bess sat quietly, thinking.  Finally, she said, “Do it again, but this time . . . make it beautiful.”

Here is what Patti said she learned that day:

That was the moment I learned dance was more than steps.  Dance was more than technique -- yes, we had to know the steps and have great technique, but there was something more needed to make it DANCE.  We actually had to shed the steps, stop thinking of them, and breathe into "make it beautiful."

There are many Bible translations which have sought to achieve a kind of technical perfection and accuracy but have missed the beauty inherent within the story.  Our goal with The Voice was to produce an accurate translation that was at the same time beautiful.  I wish I had heard Patti’s story earlier.  There were times in the project when I could have used it.  Times when I could have said to a writer or scholar puzzling over a pericope or laboring over a few lines something like, “Do it again. This time . . . make it beautiful.” 

* * * * * * * *
Patti Henry is the author of a terrific book entitled, The Emotionally Unavailable Man: A Blueprint for Healing.  You can learn more about her work and ministry from her website:
www.patti-henry.com

Frank Couch and I recently traveled to Lynchburg, Virginia to speak at Liberty University. We were invited by Dr. Vernon Whaley, head of School of Music. He and his staff did an excellent job preparing for our visit and making us feel welcome.  If you haven’t noticed, Liberty has grown exponentially in the last decade.  The university has 85,000 students (most of those online) and a $1 billion endowment. And, believe it or not, the school is only 41 years old.  The university is building new buildings, starting new programs, and realizing its grand vision like few schools I’ve ever seen.  If you have a son or daughter preparing for college, you might want to check it out.

Frank and I talked with several hundred students over two days about the Voice project and the reading of Scripture in worship.  We had a great time thanks to the good folks there.  Along the way Frank and I fielded a number of great questions. I wish I could remember them all. Some of the questions we had heard before, but there was one which sticks out in my mind.

After Frank and I gave some of the reasons why we translated the Greek word Christos as “the Anointed,” a student asked why we didn’t just explain what Christos means and stick to the traditional rendering “Christ.”  Now we’ve discussed this issue at some length in our new book, The Story of The Voice, so I don’t want to repeat that here, but let me give you another side to that.

Go back to the prophets. The word “prophet” means literally “one who speaks for God.”  So we find in the Scriptures a number of prophetic oracles or speeches in the prophetic books (e.g., Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Amos, etc). But when you read through the prophets, you’ll also notice that sometimes God calls prophets not just to speak a message; he calls them to act it out. And to be honest, God’s servants did some pretty bizarre things. Isaiah walks naked and barefoot for 3 years (Isaiah 20). Jeremiah buys a piece of real estate just a few days before the country is invaded and destroyed by the Babylonians (Jeremiah 32). Ezekiel laid mock siege against a brick he called Jerusalem and laid on his left side by the road for 390 days and then turned over to his right side for 40 days (Ezekiel 4). You might ask: why didn’t Ezekiel just explain God’s message and be done with it? It would have saved him a lot of trouble. Why didn’t Jeremiah just explain his message, keep his money, and not invest in what everybody else thought was a lost cause? It would have saved him a lot of trouble. Why didn’t Isaiah just explain his message and not go through the shame and humiliation that came from what God asked him to do?  It would have saved him a lot of trouble. Well the reason is simple: they sensed God directing them not just to explain a message but to act it out. Sometimes actions do speak louder than words. Had they simply stood up one day in a single place and given a sermon, then I doubt we’d be reading about them today. Their message would have been . . . well, forgettable. It was the combination of word and action which imprinted their messages so clearly on the hearts of their followers.

Now, I find what the prophets did instructive. In the Christian tradition we are encouraged to imitate the noble saints of the past. So, sometimes it is more important for us to act out and live out the message than it is to just explain it.  As we were involved in this translation project, we sensed God directing us to do some things differently with this translation.  We could have just explained the meaning of these key terms in a well written and clear essay somewhere but frankly, that would have been . . . well, forgettable. 

A few of our translation decisions may seem controversial to some, but the scholars, writers, and editors we gathered were aiming to do something unique with this translation. What one writer told me is this: when controversy comes, consider it a teachable moment. This translation project has given me an opportunity to share with hundreds of thousands of people key elements of the Christian faith.  What we continue to hear is how people are hearing in fresh and helpful ways the Voice of God.

I have a great story to share with you in a few days from a woman I met at Houston Graduate School of Theology.  Stay tuned.

So why do we call the first part of the Bible the “Old Testament”? Well, for several reasons. First, there is tradition. For hundreds of years Bibles have been published with a page in front of the collection of 39 books from Genesis to Malachi clearly declaring these are the books of the Old Testament. Second, there is Jesus’ declaration that he comes to establish a New Covenant in His blood. We hear these words spoken first at the Last Supper when Jesus breaks the bread, blesses God and invites His followers to “take and eat.” That phrase “New Covenant” becomes identified later with part two of the Christian Bible; we call it the New Testament (the Greek word for “testament” means “covenant”). If these 27 books from Matthew to Revelation make up the New Testament, then the first part must be, well, the Old Testament. 

Seldom, if ever, does anyone stop and ask “Why?”  Or perhaps even more significantly: “What do we mean when we call these books the Old Testament?” Tradition is a powerful factor in how we think. Now I have no real problem with calling these books the Old Testament as long as we do not fill the word “old” with the wrong content. Frankly, I think sometimes we do. When Christians refer to these books as the Old Testament—if by “old” they mean worn out, used up, obsolete, yesterday’s news—then I think we ought to retire the term altogether. Certainly that’s not how Jesus and his followers looked at their Bible. For them it was God’s Word. In “the Law, Prophets and Writings”—the way they referred to the Scripture—the Voice of God could be heard and felt.  They heard prophecies there, stories there, poetry there that found ultimate fulfillment in the New Covenant inaugurated by the Liberating King. For Jesus and his contemporaries the “Old Testament” was not “old” at all. It was as fresh as the morning, as relevant as the Internet news.  They were still waiting for some of its prophecies to be fulfilled. There is no sense in which they considered their Scripture old or obsolete. If that is what we mean by “old,” we ought to throw a retirement party and be done with it.  

But if by OLD Testament we mean tested, tried and true,

if we mean the foundation upon which the New Covenant is built,

if we recognize that these books point toward the climactic moment of

God’s redemption of the world . . .

then why don’t we just call it what it is: the Classic Testament. 

In many ways I prefer “Classic Testament” to “Old Testament” because it can help us reframe the discussion about Scripture. I suggest that this subtle change might pay big dividends when it comes to thinking about the relationship between part one and part two of the Christian Scriptures. Although this is an oversimplification, the Old Testament stands in relation to the New as promise is to fulfillment, as foundation is to temple, as classic is to contemporary. You cannot have one without the other. The earlier paves the way and makes the later possible. That’s why the Christian Scriptures contain both Old and New Testaments or what I prefer to call the Classic and New Testaments.

Now I realize I’m not likely to change many minds on this. I don’t expect Bible publishers to change the introduction page to part one of the Bible. I just want to get you thinking. When you say Old Testament, what do you really mean?

"All the Matriarchs Were Infertile"

by Amanda Haley

The elder at my church said it, my best friend said it, and—to her absolute horror today—my mother said it. Before I struggled with infertility, I have no doubt that I cavalierly said it to some of my friends, too: “Sarah was ninety years old before she had Isaac.” That seems to be the gut reaction whenever you tell your Christian friends that you’re having trouble getting pregnant. To be fair, there is nothing anyone can say to make you feel better. All your loved ones want to do is bolster your faith by reminding you that you’re in good company, that the heroines of our faith had the same heartache that you do.

Consider some of the women in the Bible who struggled with infertility: 

Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Hannah, Elizabeth

What do all these women have in common? God “blessed” them with children. And that’s great. In most cases it was miraculous! God looked down from heaven, saw their struggles, loved them, and blessed them with children. Sons, in fact. They all get the happiest of endings in the time it takes to read about three verses of Scripture. This is inspiring, right? This is why our loved ones reference them so readily.

The next time someone tells you about Sarah or Hannah, try to remember that response is coming from a place of love. Then smile tolerantly and forget it! The Bible was not written by women. If it had been, then we’d know more about these women’s day-to-day struggles and not go straight to the resolution of their stories. The matriarchs are minor characters in God’s redemptive story. The miracles of their pregnancies have more to do with the babies they had than the women they were. As a result, their stories don’t offer modern women struggling with infertility much help.

The most inspiring woman in the Bible, to me, is granted three verses of Scripture. Anna was the wife of a temple priest, and she did not have children. She went to the temple courtyard every day, and she prayed. Because of her faithfulness, God promised she’d see the Christ child before she died. At eighty-six years old, Anna was doing her habitual morning prayer when Mary and Joseph walked in with eight-day-old Jesus. She saw (or maybe held?) the baby, she blessed Him, and then she died. That’s all we know! 

At that very moment, an elderly woman named Anna stepped forward. Anna was a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She had been married for seven years before her husband died and a widow to her current age of 84 years. She was deeply devoted to the Lord, constantly in the temple, fasting and praying. When she approached Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, she began speaking out thanks to God, and she continued spreading the word about Jesus to all those who shared her hope for the rescue of Jerusalem.  (Luke 2:36–38 The Voice).

Just like the matriarchs’, Anna’s story isn’t about Anna. Luke didn’t put it there so infertile woman could identify with her. Her story is in the Gospel because she identified Jesus as the Messiah. The fact that she was childless is ancillary. I wish I knew more about her. I wish I knew how she survived month after month of disappointment. I wonder if she was ever pregnant. Did she have a miscarriage? Did she have a baby and then lose him or her to illness?

Anna teaches us something very important. Her three verses of Scripture prove that children are not a reward for a woman’s faithfulness to God. That may not be the primary point of Luke’s passage, but I know the Holy Spirit slipped the detail in there to give women like me hope when we need it most.

 
(Contact Amanda through her fan page on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/AmandaHopeHaley?fref=ts)