It was once observed by a deacon at a church I had attended that I never met a rule I didn’t like to challenge and/or break (sorry to the verbal purists who hate and/or). At the time, I was devastated; I really felt God had worked on my soul to a point where I was accepting rules and the only time I asked a question was to clarify the reasons for the rule.
Now, years later, I realize it is truth. It is a hard truth to swallow, but the savory flavor in my mouth and mind is so grand I have to consider it.
Why fight authority if Christians are commanded to submit?
I realized every time I fight an authority it is usually because I feel it is acting unjustly. I don’t always stop to think about whether that perception is real or biased. I just fight.
I wear makeup and beautiful but unusual clothes for every little girl who has been molded into something she’s not. I think of the girl trying to be feminine in a different way from what traditional views allow. I think of the girl having to act the tomboy because there are no good feminine role models around. I think of the girl shunned on the dance floor because she’s more Marian the Librarian than Marilyn Monroe.
I challenge faith-based rules when I cannot see a clear correlation in the Bible. Some can argue it’s a matter of faith and I obviously don’t have any. For them, I would answer with the words of Francis of Assissi: O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek … to be understood as to understand. I don’t care if you understand what I believe or why I do what I do; I care more that I understand what you believe and why you do what you do so I can help others understand.
I challenge society constructs in so many ways. It’s offering help to the single mom juggling a job and kids. It’s showing up to help clean the home of a mentally ill person. It’s visiting the bedside of a mom in a difficult pregnancy. It’s going to a funeral simply because I know the family members.
It isn’t because I’m some high and mighty Christian doing what Jesus would do. It’s because I know the exhaustion and loneliness of the single parent juggling a job and kids. It’s because I can understand the frustration and agony of a body that won’t cooperate with a driven mind and a mind that won’t let a broken body alone. It’s because I’ve been in that hospital bed or home-bound, scared of losing the child and tired of the same four walls, and I know the joy I would have felt had anyone not kith and kin showed up at my bedside. It’s because I’ve lost someone so precious to me and I couldn’t trust anyone to be around me for fear if I let go of the masks I would curl in a fetal position in the corner, wailing such soul wrenching cries that I would have been beastly.
I challenge the guidelines in an employment situation. Some people are not designed to be 9-5 cubicle drones, forced into a cookie-cutter shaped schedule and work location. These are the kinds that give their best when you trust them enough to let go of your expectations and craft the situation to meet their needs. It’s the addicts in recovery coming up with their best ideas at 2:15 am, jotting off an email, and then going to do something else, crashing at 7 am. Alternatively, it’s the mom dropping the kids at yet another practice pulling out the old iPhone against her kids’ wishes to send off that emailed sketch of a solution. It’s the sandwiched, 40-something professional bouncing a baby on his knee while taking his dad to the cardiologist; the professional comes up with the best marketing idea in the world after listening to the old folks talking about life in a simpler time.
So, while fighting authority is not always the best idea, and most of the time, you can’t fight authority and win, I will forever remain…
The Feminazi Rebel 😉