Emerging Women

By Ellen Stevens

He woke with a certain sense of confidence; an assurance that everything was going to be okay. Toby is normally extremely positive and upbeat, but this was beyond the norm. When I asked what happened, he told me.

He had a dream last night: a God dream. One of those where God speaks to you with insight and encouragement. In the dream, God spoke peace and light into our situation giving Toby the confidence that all would be well. It was an amazing gift and well-timed. The coolest part? God was a hippo!

Awhile back, my friend Wendy had a God dream. I don’t know what he said to her, but it was obviously impacting. And in her dream, God was Donald Sutherland.

Now, I fully believe that God speaks to people today, and I know he often uses dreams to connect with us. I’ve heard person after person tell me stories about God coming to them and speaking in their night. In these moments, God speaks to us in a way that resonates within us, that communicates in a manner that we can hear. But, as talking animals and movie stars? Seriously? How awesome is that?!

I seemed to get ripped off.

Every night, I dream about rescuing people from burning buildings, stopping hijackers on planes and tearing kids out of the grips of traffickers. I wake up exhausted, with sore muscles, having battled all night long. I’m certain there is a reason I have these action-packed, thriller dreams, and I’ve often thought I could certainly draw on my midnight experiences to write an award-winning screenplay. But they do wear on me.

Every once in awhile, I’d like a God dream; a nice, calm inspiring one. And I’m completely okay with white-haired movie stars and talking animal God-characters.

One night, maybe he will show up in my adventures. I’ll be trapped, trying to figure out which wire to cut on a ticking bomb and hear a voice speak to me. Ellen. Ellen. I’ll turn and see a beautiful butterfly land on the red wire. Follow me. I will lead you into all understanding and peace. Then, I’ll cut the red wire. The digital readout will stop. Silence.

Then maybe I’ll finally, truly sleep.

Until the next dream.

This post originally appeared at Ellen’s blog ellenstevens.com.

By Adele Sakler

Joan Ball’s journey from Atheism to a Christian faith in her first book, Flirting with Faith (Howard Books, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.) resonated with me because I have gone through those similar experiences in my past. It’s just that I am finding myself no longer able to relate much anymore. Today I claim to be an Agnostic Christian who does not believe in many doctrines and interpretations of the Bible that run the gamut in evangelical circles. I am standing on the precipice of A/theism because I am falling out of belief of my human constructs of G-D. Yet, I really enjoyed Joan’s journey, and I will share some of my favorite moments from the book.

It is an honest and authentic journey that never bordered on preaching. She always owns her experiences and never tries to say that is how everyone else should believe and/or do things. Her experience of having her own life and being in control of her own destiny made the leap to belief in G-D all the more compelling.

The revealing things about her misery resonated with me as well. “I had yet to read the clear indications that I was at the root of my own misery.” (p. 63) This gut-level honesty is one of the things I love about Joan! Her child-like faith became a motif throughout her journey. It all started from the beginning of her conversion: “Within weeks of my conversion, my journal was peppered with erratic talk of surrender and repentance and desperate pleas to be changed from the inside out” (p. 81) This continued in decisions from leaving her job and selling the home her and her husband had built together.

Joan is a very creative and expressive person. An example of her open and poetic heart is when she said this: “I felt like a human zipper coming undone as God opened me up and showed me the best and the worst of myself through the lens of day-to-day life.” (p. 122) She is also realistic in her approach to faith in Jesus: “Jesus is no genie in a lamp. All the happy thinking in the world will not keep life from being life” (p. 165)

There was a terrible church experience that rattled Joan and her family. How they waded through it all and came out on the other side inspired me. Joan says, “I can never be completely sure, but I think that God allowed my comfortable church existence to be shaken up so that I could learn what it means to forgive radically and to love beyond reason, even when dealing with people I would have preferred to hate.” (p. 179)

Joan is now a teacher at a university and through her friend, John, learned what teaching is really all about. I loved this as I can see it reaching over to faith as well. John told her, ‘It is not about knowing everything and dispensing wisdom from on high. It is about reaching each student individually, heart to heart. It is about connecting with them as human beings in a way that meets their needs, not your convenience.’ (p. 188) Now, if more people like Joan could enact this in their daily lives when living out their faith we’d be in a much better place spiritually!

Now, I admit I am a walking contradiction, and scoffed at a lot of what Joan writes because I have been there, done that with so many similar kinds of stories. I just do not experience G-D in those kinds of ways anymore, let alone sensing the Holy Spirit at work. Maybe I am jaded or maybe it’s a season. For this I do not know, but I find myself slipping from faith to atheism, the reverse order of Joan’s journey. I feel like there is no plan for my life and feel like a waste of space at times. Chronic illness ravages my body. Not sure where I will end up on this odyssey but I want to thank Joan for sharing hers.

Adele Sakler currently resides in Sacramento, California with her partner, and their cute Tibetan Spaniel named Mushu. She suffers from, and is in treatment for Chronic Lyme Disease, a few other Tick-Borne diseases and Heavy Metal Toxicity. She considers herself at this point in her journey a Christian agnostic because she just can’t seem to sign on the dotted line and ascribe to all the doctrines and long-held man-made traditions of Christendom. She loves G-D and is a failing Christ-follower. She blogs at www.existentialpunk.com (where this post first appeared) and is the creator and site administrator for www.queermergent.com.

By Julie Clawson

The Time Magazine Newsfeed recently posted an article on a new defense women have against rape – a female condom with teeth, literally. From the article –

As a young physician on call one night 40 years ago in South Africa, Dr. Sonnet Ehlers tended to an emaciated rape victim. As she counseled the victim, she always remembered one important thing she said: “If only I had teeth down there.”

Thus the development and advent of the Rape-aXe female condom, designed not so much as birth control or for STD protection, but more so as a defense against rape, particularly in South Africa, a nation where 1 in 4 men say they have committed the crime.

Without really describing how the Rape-aXe actually works, we can tell you how it is designed: the device is a latex sheath with barbed spines on the inside. It is inserted into a woman’s vagina much like a tampon. When an assailant attacks a would-be victim, seconds later he finds himself writhing in unknowable pain and must have the device surgically removed. About 30,000 of the devices were distributed for free during the World Cup in several cities and will sell for about $2 afterward.

But the device is not without its critics, with some saying it will cause rapists to become more violent, and others saying it could be misued by vindictive female lovers seeking retribution. But on her website, Ehlers has answers to all those questions and more.

Regarding men becoming angry upon getting trapped: Rape-aXe will buy you time to get away, ( I know this from a patient that caught himself in his zipper. Rape-aXe will have the same effect just worse.)…

My first thought was that this is a modern chastity belt. But instead of a rusty spiked diaper locked onto a woman by her father to safeguard her virginity, a woman can choose this option to protect herself. But the reason it’s needed remain the same – men feel like they can control women physically and sexually. In the past it was the fathers prizing their daughter’s virginity for the economic and political advances it could get them. Now it’s men asserting their strength and power over women through violence and rape. The times and methods have changed but the message that women are objects to be ruled and controlled by men is still alive and well in our world. But now women can do something to fight back against their attackers, branding them as rapists in the process.

As long as women are not seen as equals of men, men will continue to oppress and abuse us in these ways. I for one would prefer the world to change and equality achieved instead of something like this being necessary. But at the same time, men still treat women as objects and rape is all too common in our world. Giving women means to protect ourselves is a sad but necessary safeguard in a man’s world.

Julie Clawson is a mother, a former pastor, and a writer. She moderates the Emerging Women blog and has a personal blog at julieclawson.com. She is the author of Everyday Justice: The Global Impact of Our Daily Choices.

By Julie Clawson

When South Africa was selected to host the World Cup, there was much rejoicing and reflection on how far the country had come. From the days of apartheid where human beings were not treated as fully human, the country has worked hard at reconciliation. The world used to forbid South Africa from even participating in global sporting events like the Olympics because of apartheid, so certainly, hosting an event like this was a great symbolic act for the country. No one is naïve enough to assume that all is well in South Africa. Dire poverty and economic disparity still plague the country. Old resentments still surface as forgiveness is not always easy. As with most countries, racial wounds do not heal quickly.

But amidst this celebration, it is troubling to hear one of the major stories coming out of the World Cup is the issue of all the sex slaves trafficked into the country for the event. While human trafficking is common for any major event like the World Cup or the Olympics, the problem is seemingly worse in a country like South Africa. The U.S. State Department considers South Africa to be a source of sexual slavery and forced labor, as well as a destination for human trafficking from other countries and a transit nation for the modern slave trade. South African human rights groups estimate that 38,000 children are trapped in the country’s sex trade. While there have been disputed reports regarding how many people have been trafficked in for the games, the fact remains that it is occurring.

For a games meant to symbolically celebrate a country’s efforts to see all of its citizens as full human beings worthy of respect, the widespread presence of human trafficking simply undermines that message. But while the country might be responsible for not trying harder to prevent trafficking in their borders, the real problem comes from the tourists and fans that create the demand for sex slaves. When the world gathers to celebrate sport and national pride together and the result is thousands of women and children abused and oppressed, good sportsmanship is nonexistent.

So what causes a celebration of national identity and a love of sports to end up in the oppression and demeaning of women and children? Is it an expression of power? Misplaced masculinity? There’s been much talk about what the governments did or did not do to prevent the trafficking, but why aren’t we talking about how to get fans to stop raping children as part of their celebration?

Julie Clawson is a mother, a former pastor, and a writer. She moderates the Emerging Women blog and has a personal blog at julieclawson.com. She is the author of Everyday Justice: The Global Impact of Our Daily Choices.