femininity

Today we'll finally begin to look at ministry to women, specifically Bible studies.

But first, a word from our sponsor: Amy Beach (1867-1944). Amy began taking piano at age four, and by thirteen was a published composer (yeah, one of those child prodigies--funny, you don't hear about child prodigies as often in women as you do in men). She spent her early life focusing on performance but at eighteen shifted to composition. She composed over 150 works, many of which were performed by high-profile organizations. Her style was marked by lyricism, intensity, and passion.

Did you know that this month is Women's History Month? It's fitting that we discuss women in ministry this month and the purpose of ministry for women.

Let me be honest with you. I've never been passionate about women's ministry. Not specifically. I'm passionate about encouraging people (challenging people?) to participate in God's kingdom work, which means being passionate about people, which sometimes means finding myself in women's ministry (but also means finding myself in young adult ministry, youth group ministry, missions, artists' groups, small group ministry, singles' ministry--you get the picture).

I can't remember if this is part three or part four, but I assure you it's the last part.

I didn't know what to expect when I began telling you my story. Your responses and support means a lot to me. One never knows if when one opens their mouth if it'll be like the talking stain from the Superbowl commercial. So thank you for your encouragement. I've needed it these days.

I left you yesterday at my mental breakdown of sorts. I said that I had tried to force the jigsaw pieces. That's not true. No, I hid pieces. They slid between sofa cushions, beneath the fridge, under the candy dish on the TV.

My jigsaw puzzle picture was incomplete.

Every Friday night, I went to the Dallas Symphony (the seminary provided free tickets through some donor or something). And every Friday night, I left full and empty at the same time. Full of music. Empty because it wasn't me anymore. I wasn't up there playing.