The Feminine Heart of God

Last night, a group of people I have met with off and on for about five years now, had an interesting discussion about wisdom. We looked at the many Bible passages on the subject, including those in the book of Proverbs, where wisdom is personified as a woman.

During the discussion, a sentence just popped into my head that went something like this: "Wisdom is the feminine heart of God." For a while, I was sort of stunned. That's not a thought I'd come up with naturally. I wondered whether to mention it or just stew over it privately. But there came point in the discussion where I just felt I had to come out with it. I'm not sure what people made of it -- I don't recall that it particularly "wowed" anyone -- but I remember my friend Phyllis (of phyllisophie saying "I like that."

I've pondered it, since, and decided I like it, too. And its "wowing" me.

The longer I'm a Christian, the more convinced I become that the abundant life Jesus talked about is less about the classically masculine approach to life -- doing, exploring, conquering, winning, leading, figuring things out, mastery, and all that -- and more about relationship.

I read John Eldredge's very popular book, Wild at Heart, twice or three times. Although he's couched his thesis in masculine romanticism " ... every little boy ... dreams of being the hero, of beating the bad guys, of doing daring feats and rescuing the damsel in distress ...," I believe he's actually trying to make the point that healthy relationship, first with God and then with others, is The Thing. (Personally, I had a hard time getting around all the "guy stuff" to hear that message. I haven't met any healthy women lately who I thought needed a rescue. Have you?).

I see both masculine and feminine expression in the blogosphere, and while I appreciate both, right now, I'm kind of a fan of the latter.

Many (but not all) of the men and a few of the women, too, tend toward the former. Just to be clear, I don't mean by masculine to imply "bad" or "insensitive." Most are polite, intelligent and rational. But often they're also out to prove a point, be profound, teach, preach, prophecy, be right and, on occasion, beat the bad guy. (And, confession time, that fits me, all too well). He (and sometimes she) martials logical arguments, quotes authorities, makes truth claims, and thinks he/she has Done It. But what has been done, I wonder? One such blogger received a comment recently asking if he was aware that his most recent polemic, which had a sort of rant-ish quality to it, was unlikely to change anyone's mind. He apparently missed the gentle rebuke in the comment and replied that it didn't matter, a stand had to be taken. (I wince when I think how many times in the past I've said something just like that.)

On the other hand, I find that a lot of women (and a few men) tend toward storytelling. They repeat dialogs from their marriages and friendships. Describe an encounter with a mischievous cat. Post a list of wishes on Christmas Eve. Talk about how things make them think, hurt, long for, wonder, weep and soar. Yes, an opinion slips in once in a while, but it's often not the point. They tend (again, generally) to share what they believe God's taught them, rather than attempting to speak for God and instruct me, convince me, over power me. Tend to be funnier, too, and generally, more winning, precisely because they are not trying so much to win as to make a connection.

I find myself inclined to frequent the blogs written by these folks. They tend to be inviting places to go, and my visits there are often satisfying encounters. That has, by the way, not a whole lot to do with whether I agree with them or not. In fact, at several places I enjoy going, I'm pretty sure I'm not on the same page with them about some things that I think Really Matter. But I often think I can glimpse the authentic souls behind the blogs. That enriches me. So I keep coming back.

I come back because I find they help me complete my picture of the God I worship. God did not write a blog, but a bunch of people who knew him did something similar. What is the book we call The Book, other than a collection of stories, law books, song lyrics, liturgies, proverbs, rational discourses, impassioned pleas, dire warnings, appeals to authority, and even some rants? Inspired, yes, but not by the dispassionate, logical "Brain in the Sky" that some like to make him out to be ('immutability," I think, is the term some theologians use). Both the content and the literary forms themselves speak to us of a God who decided somewhere along the line that intimate friendship was just as important as appeals to authority and exclusively rational discourse. Maybe more. He wants, above all, to be Known. To make a Connection.

Unfortunately, I've focused (by training and inclination) on the masculine expressions of God, and missed much of the feminine, the relational. That imbalance can lead to all manner of error. Case in point: One recent blog I read took off on people who talk on their cell phones in bookstores. It was quite a diatribe. Not that he was wrong. I can imagine that it was a disruption to those who went there expecting quiet. But it was the venom with which the charge was made. You'd think the person had picked his nose in public or reamed some earwax out of their ear with a fingernail! Yeah, it was up there with that stuff! Darn near criminal. And he went on and on about it. The comments were equally hostile. Several heaped derision and one or two gleefully proposed withering, convicting "shoulda saids."

Time was, I might have joined in. Or smiled in agreement, anyway. (In fact, twice this week, alone, I was saved by God --once is coincidence, twice is Providence -- from posting rational but rash comments, when Something I Still Don't Understand About Blogs caused me to lose my almost finished diatribe, and I had the good sense to let well enough alone.)

This time, I had a different reaction: I couldn't imagine Jesus writing the cell phone/bookstore blog. Can you? He might have smiled. Maybe rolled his eyes. But I wondered if he might instead have simply waited for the person to get off the phone and ... well, struck up a conversation. Probably not about the cell phone, either. Maybe he'd tell a story. Ask questions. Make a connection. If he mentioned the cell phone incident, I bet he'd be done in such a way as to bring healing, and have him/her calling everyone they know to sing His praises. (Woman at the well?)

One thing I'm learning is that it's not enough to be Right. The thing about conversations is

They often end
when we offend

That's okay if all you want to do is butt heads.

But hearts reach hearts. Wise ones know that and seek to keep the conversation going.