7 Brave and Stunning Takes
Alistair Begg, the ACNA, Jen Hatmaker, The Gender Pay Gap, Auron's Memes, Babar and Poulenc, and my Substack Anniversary
It’s Friday, bless my soul, and I feel like with a week like this one, the only sane thing to do is revert to takes.
One
I’ve been so grieved over the last few weeks reading about the strange occurrence of Alistair Begg recommending that you, as a Christian might go to the “wedding” of a same-sex couple as long as said couple knows you don’t agree with what they’re doing. I’m sad for a whole host of reasons. In an immediate sense, it’s given room for people like Kevin M. Young to crow. If the progressive left knows what time it is, how come so many Christians don’t? Worse, it is deeply unloving to same-sex attracted people. Instead of pointing them to the source of life, you pull them toward yourself and your own ability to love or not love them. It capitulates to the redefinition of love. Since the Lord cannot bless sin, you shouldn’t offer your own blessing to something that harms instead of heals.
The second lesson in Morning Prayer today was the bit in 1 Corinthians where St. Paul admonishes Christians not to trouble the consciences of others. If someone makes a point of telling you that the dinner you are about to enjoy was sacrificed to idols a few hours before, you must gently and respectfully decline to eat it so that the host doesn’t think it’s ok to participate spiritually in the worship of demons. How much more when two people go out of their way to invite you to their “marriage” which, in reality, is the blasphemy of that institution? How could your personal expression of love possibly outweigh the very commands of God about sexual immorality?
I spent a lot of the week praying for Pastor Begg and imploring God for someone in his life to lay this out in a merciful and understanding way. Meanwhile, here is Carl Trueman on the same subject with the sort of clarity that Begg usually has. What dark times these are.
Two
The Anglican World is still roiling, as one might expect. Here is the Twitter Spaces The American Reformer hosted last night. I thought it was an interesting conversation, though, I must say, bleak. I was discouraged to hear some (I’m not sure who because I was in my car and couldn’t see who was speaking) declare that it is time for the ACNA to split now. It seems there is no way that the Holy Spirit might go on building this particular branch of the church.
Or, one might dare to hope that there might be more for the ACNA, even on the subject of women.
I don’t like to say it, because I know there are deep fathoms of frustration on the part of men who have felt they couldn’t speak openly about this issue, but then had to watch Calvin Robinson be taken out, but various turns of the conversation felt disrespectful and reactive. There might be a lot of different ways to “solve the problem,” but none of them will be on the table if both sides keep pushing hard away from each other. In the end, people are going to have to give up some things they think they require for the sake of others, they are going to have to think more creatively than heretofore, they are going to have to try hard not to anathematize the other side, and ultimately, they might have to accept certain portions of grief that can only be healed by the hard work of forgiveness. Oh, and, all those invested in staying together as a church would have to play by the same rules and talk to each other as grownups rather than as children. In which case, just to live in a spirit of bitter reproach, maybe we should just pack it in and give up.
Three
I am halfway through this exceedingly long hour of Jen Hatmaker being brave and stunning. I’ve got to the part where she’s about to complain about the church, I think. I had to stop because I was so irritated.
A while ago, in a fusty old bookstore, I found a marvelous short volume called Every Lady her own Shoemaker:
It is, I kid you not, step-by-step instructions for making a pair of shoes. Tragically, the list of materials alone is incomprehensible to me, a modern lady who has to buy junky shoes off of Amazon, wear them for a few months, and then throw them into a landfill.
Still, think how wonderful it must have been in olden times to be empowered to make something so useful. Whereas now, because there isn’t anything more interesting to do than shop, we have Every Lady her own Predatory Cat. First there was Glennon imagining herself as a Cheetah, and now there is Jen living her life as a lion. Why does it have to be dangerous carnivores? Why doesn’t anyone want to be something friendly, like the squirrel that lounges on my front steps strewing pumpkin seeds everywhere?
I will probably have more to say about this stunning and brave podcast whenever I manage to finish it.
Four
I quite enjoyed this embarrassing moment several days ago. It’s of an Australian senator asking a panel of women about the gender pay gap. Could it be, he asks, that women working part-time will show up as making less than men working full-time, even if they both are paid the same amount of money for the same amount of work? The very elegant lady on the panel pauses for a long moment as if this has never occurred to her. She tries to offer various explanations, another person weighs in, and the Senator, it seems, tries not to roll his eyes. Every lady her own Statistician Edition.
Five
In between all the other news, I’ve been watching Auron’s awesome meme game about the border “issues” down south. Scroll down his whole feed for his special congratulations to each governor who tweets support for Texas. Gosh, I hope we make it through the weekend without, as people are saying, a “hot” civil war.
Six
In one of my forages into Thrifty Shopper looking for awesome records, I found a record of this piece of music. My version is not read by a woman, but by some famous actor whose name currently escapes me, and not with piano only, but full orchestra. The music is quite terrifying, at points, and I have been so excited for little children to come to my house to listen to it. It is seriously epic.
Seven
A few short weeks will mark a year that I’ve been writing here on Substack. It’s taken me a while to get back into the groove of writing with the relentless regularity of the old days, and to figure out how the platform works. I have learned a lot, like, don’t take breaks and don’t get sick, and I still have a lot to learn—like how the beta DM function works, and the Chat, and the dashboard. As a thank you to my founding subscribers, I have a little something that I intend to send out to you all. The problem is, I have to dig through and find your emails and then ask you for your mailing addresses, and then send the package. All that will take almost another year, but I will do it, come what may. If you would like to become a founding subscriber, you can have this wonderful little present as well, only you will get yours first because I will know how to find you. If I become famous, and more importantly, rich I will hire someone to explain to me how to use the internet for anything more than doom scrolling.
Have a nice day!
I am a founding subscriber IN MY HEART but it took me a year to get up and get my credit card because I don’t understand Apple Pay. But I finally paid my dues and I’m very pleased to be here. Every Lady Her Own Financier.
I've always wanted to be a chipmunk, love watching one on a blowdown rolling a pinecone in it's a little claws, munching. Couple years back I gave up my @ chipmunk email address because it didn't sound professional.
"If I become famous, and more importantly, rich I will hire someone to explain to me how to use the internet...."