Since 2002, LAF has refuted the follies of feminism and promoted a strong, intelligent, biblical view of womanhood. We love femininity and are delighted to share the beauties of the womanly virtues with women all over the world. New to LAF? Start here! Looking for older articles? Please visit the archives!
Once upon a time, a certain town grew up at the foot of a mountain range. It was sheltered in the lee of the protecting heights, so that the wind that shuddered at the doors and flung handfuls of sleet against the window panes was a wind whose fury was spent. High up in the hills, a strange and quiet forest dweller took it upon himself to be the Keeper of the Springs. He patrolled the hills and wherever he found a spring, he cleaned its brown pool of silt and fallen leaves, of mud and mold and took away from the spring all foreign matter, so that the water which bubbled up through the sand ran down clean and cold and pure. It leaped sparkling over rocks and dropped joyously in crystal cascades until, swollen by other streams, it became a river of life to the busy town. Millwheels were whirled by its rush. Gardens were refreshed by its waters. Fountains threw it like diamonds into the air. Swans sailed on its limpid surface, and children laughed as they played on its banks in the sunshine.
But the City Council was a group of hard-headed, hard-boiled businessmen. They scanned the civic budget and found in it the salary of a Keeper of the Springs. Said the Keeper of the Purse: “Why should we pay this romance ranger? We never see him; he is not necessary to our town’s work life. If we build a reservoir just above the town, we can dispense with his services and save his salary.” Therefore, the City Council voted to dispense with the unnecessary cost of a Keeper of the Springs, and to build a cement reservoir.
So the Keeper of the Springs no longer visited the brown pools but watched from the heights while they built the reservoir. When it was finished, it soon filled up with water, to be sure, but the water did not seem to be the same. It did not seem to be as clean, and a green scum soon befouled its stagnant surface. There were constant troubles with the delicate machinery of the mills, for it was often clogged with slime, and the swans found another home above the town. At last, an epidemic raged, and the clammy, yellow fingers of sickness reached into every home in every street and lane. (more…)
A common reaction among evangelicals to the June Supreme Court ruling on same-sex marriage has been deflection from controversy. This laissez-faire approach has been most commonly expressed by closely connected beliefs about Christianity and morality:
We should not expect non-Christians to think and live like Christians. So why all the fuss among Christians over the legalization of same-sex marriage?
Since when do we depend on the government to enforce Christian morals?
Many who express these sentiments do so with well-meaning attempts to (rightly) keep evangelicals from panicking over misplaced trust in temporal earthly powers. Additionally, they want to remind themselves and fellow believers that to be a Christ follower will always be, as Jesus promised, countercultural.
Yet the two statements above reflect a poor understanding of how God ordered creation, morality, and the purpose he has given civil law. Assumptions like those above can lead to disastrous consequences for how we understand moral obligation.
On June 26, 2015, four of the Supreme Court’s liberals joined Justice Anthony Kennedy in discovering a new right to same-sex marriage in the U.S. Constitution, one thereby imposed upon all 50 states.
In response, of course, liberals were jubilant. Their leader, the one who promised to fundamentally transform America, responded by literally illuminating the nation’s house in rainbow colors.
Americans saw all of that. They saw the pictures of their fundamentally transformed White House; they saw other culture-transformers dancing in the streets joyously rejecting what a great country once called the laws of nature and nature’s God.
What they had just achieved was, obviously, something utterly untried and unprecedented. And yet, if you suggested even a slight pause before redefining something as fundamental as the 2,000-year, unquestioned, Judeo-Christian/Western standard for marriage, which has only ever meant a male-female bond—well, then you were nothing more than a homophobe exuding a noxious stream of hate. You couldn’t possibly have any rational reason for your rancid, puzzling position.
To this day (even at the age of 33) I address my friends’ parents by their last names, as do most of my friends. Because they are not our peers but our elders – and we were taught to show respect to our elders. So what changed? Why are children today taught differently?
[Editor’s note: We appreciate the super conservative family values types here, but also respect the author’s point that being a follower of the masses without personal principle is not a good reason to do something]
As it turns out, fish do need bicycles and men too. Thanks to Mr. William Wright’s 1951 invention mothers and babies had the means to get about with more ease and comfort previously afforded them. Enjoy!
In a recent sermon I found that I had to touch upon one what I consider of the trickiest passages in the Bible: 1 Timothy 2:15. Here is what this verse says: “Yet she will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control.” Taken on its own, this is a remarkably sexist statement. But I’m convinced there is truth and freedom here if we are willing to go looking for it. Let me take a shot at explaining that passage or at least to show you how I went about trying to figure it out.
First, then, what does it mean that she will be saved?
I thought we were very prepared for the birth of our first child. I paid close attention to what I ate, I exercised up to the morning I went into labor and took natural childbirth classes. We were educated and prepared mentally and physically. Sadly, I had not given a single thought to the spiritual aspect of labor. When I got into active labor, fear unlike anything I had ever experienced set in. Nothing could calm me down. Being in the water did help, but by that point I was so eager to get the whole process over with that I got out of the tub, thinking it had stalled labor. The fear and panic did not go away, but was masked by my midwife’s order of a narcotic shot in my leg. It stopped the panic but I was barely lucid. Sadly, I remember very little of my son’s arrival and the early moments with him. I was not even able to talk about our first son’s birth for over a year afterward because of the fear and shame I felt.
When I became pregnant with our second child, I felt compelled to meet with two women from church to talk and pray about this baby’s arrival. From the first time we gathered to pray the Holy Spirit began tearing down strongholds and confronting lies I had believed about myself, childbirth, and God’s role in birth.
It is widely reported that women suffer depression at twice the rate of men. Apparently, more women are clinically depressed than ever before. On the assumption that these assessments are true, the question anyone interested in the subject — which means anyone who cares about any woman — asks is, why?
In a recent column I offered one explanation — the impossibly high expectations for happiness that feminism created for many women.
There are other possible explanations.
One is the way in which many girls have been raised.
As every wise person and wise culture in history has known, it is impossible to attain any happiness without conquering one’s nature. This is, of course, equally true for boys and girls, men and women. However, along with feminism arose a belief in the superiority of female nature. One result of this has been the suppressing of many male instincts — both negative and positive — along with little or no suppression of negative female instincts.
Societies and parents always knew that it was imperative to teach boys to control two aspects of their male nature — their sexual desires and their predilection for violence.
Societies and parents also always knew that it was imperative to teach girls to control their natures — in particular their predilection to be ruled by their emotions. Women who allowed their emotions to rule them not only became destructive (to members of their families first and foremost), they became unhappy women.
A Prayer for Hope. For those in desperate need of it.
My hope is faint today. Help me. Help me to endure when I feel no hope. Forge a hope-producing character in me. Do not let me be ashamed.
By your Scriptures, give me hope and grant that I would be saved by hope. “My hope is in the Lord who gave himself for me” – help me to believe that. Today. Right now.
Lord, you are my hope. I am so often sorely tempted to look for hope in something, someone, anything else. But, by your grace, make me to hope only ultimately in You.
When you saved me, when you gave me new life, when I was born again by the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit, I was born to hope. I need that hope, more than ever, as an anchor for my soul today. I need to enter into the inner sanctuary, where my Savior has gone before, and to know the presence and favor and communion of the one who is my hope. My only hope.
A court case involving a Texas Christian homeschool family has made national news because the parents allegedly have refused to educate their children in view of an imminent “rapture.” Liberal activist news outlets across the country have joined in universal chorus condemning lax homeschooling regulations and suggesting the pending Texas Supreme Court case will lead to a crackdown on homeschooling throughout the nation.
Most of the people I encounter these days aren’t in the mood for a challenge. They are busy and tired, worried about their 401(k)s and credit cards and how secure their businesses or jobs really are.
But maybe this is just the time for a challenge, the one I issue today – to replace worry and fear with gratitude during this Thanksgiving season. And then to hang onto the change into the new year.
During the past few years, I’ve discovered that worry and gratitude do not mix. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they are mutually exclusive. So, to get rid of worry and fear, heap on the gratitude.
Why should this matter in your work life?
Owning a business, managing a payroll, juggling projects, raising money, watching expenses, recruiting volunteers, doing an excellent job at work – all take energy and even courage. In this shaky season, it’s easy to be fearful and forget to be grateful.
By deliberately becoming more thankful, you put your worries and fears in perspective. While the negatives in your life don’t magically disappear, they become less powerful. Take a small step or two and see if it doesn’t make a difference. Then take a few more
One of the things that I have done as a stay-at-home daughter, is learn a little about business and marketing, while helping my father who directs and controls online shopping with his Internet based and managed distribution company.
For us this has meant integrating the family business into our home-making and hospitality. How did we do that? Buy coupling two important business principles: Prosumerism and Retail Estate.
Prosumerism is the principle of being a producer and consumer at the same time.
Most people are consumers but are not producers. All of their money goes toward consumption.
While they may think that they are producing at their jobs, in actuality they are not. Instead they trade their time for money, bring the money home, spend it on consumer products, and when all is said and done all they have produced is a bag of trash to be hauled out to the street. There is nothing left over.
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Earlier this year, we moved to a new neighborhood. I love to garden and our kids adore playing outside. When the warm weather arrived, we spent many evenings in the front yard. I would often prune the boxwood hedge or pick weeds, and the kids would ride their bicycles up and down the sidewalk, or kick a ball around with Daddy.
It didn’t take long for our front yard to become the place for the neighborhood kids to congregate after supper. We didn’t mind. It meant their parents trusted us and considered our home a fun and safe place for their children to be, and we could monitor language, behavior, and other influences better on our own property. Often, the parents would mill around, too, and we’d end up unofficially hosting neighborhood meet-and-greet’s.
During one of the initial conversations I had with the Moms in our neighborhood, I realized for the first time that feminism has given me an adjective I should not need.
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