I've said pretty much everything I intended to. Since I didn't expect this blog to be a long-term project, I'm fine just letting things wind down as is.
On the other hand, I've thoroughly enjoyed the discussion and think there's lots more ground we could cover.
So here's the plan: I'll go through the comment section and pull out a few topics that I didn't really do in depth. Or maybe some topics that I just want to talk over again because Quiverfull is one of my favorite rants (and it's not one of my husband's, which takes all the fun out of it). Also, if there's something you want to say, email it to me and I'll post it for discussion. Of course, I reserve the right to decide what's on topic and what's not. Also, life tends to intervene between me and the blog, so it might take me a while to get things up.
But I think this is a subject that many of us want to discuss and don't always feel comfortable doing so. I'd love to hear from y'all, so email me!
exaltedwater at comcast dot net.
-- SJ
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Part VII: The Bottom Line
I hate the phrase "the bottom line." It's cliched and overdone. And like most cliched, overdone lines, it's an easy shorthand to say what I want to. All of which has nothing to do with the actual post. Now for our feature presentation.
When I wrote my original post, I didn't expect to continue it in a blog-length ramble of thoughts. I'm glad I did it, though. Whether or not it's been helpful for all of you reading, the act of organizing my thoughts, putting them up for public review, and then taking in your thoughtful comments has clarified my thinking.
My conclusion is one of those really annoying ones that don't actually follow the question. (Jesus' favorite kind of answer, incidentally.) The question, if you recall, was "Can I, as a Christian desiring to honor and obey God, ever decide that I am done having children?"
The answer that I'm hearing after all these weeks (months, actually, since my last baby's birth) is: "Know God better."
It isn't a matter of figuring out the right thing to do, and doing it. I've lived much of my life trying to do that, and God always frustrates my attempt. This dilemma is more an opportunity for me to sit with God and talk over all these thoughts -- over and over and over -- and learn Who He is. Maybe He'll give me an answer one day, but I don't think He's really all that interested in knowing how well I score on my final exam. He'd rather I just get to know Him better.
I think He does let us make our own decisions, but we should always be willing to change if that's what He wants us to do. In other words, I can give away all my baby stuff in a year or two, but should be willing to go carseat shopping again if I need to.
I do feel more comfortable saying that I don't want to have any more children. I see more clearly how much of the Quiverfull philosophy is based on random Bible verses (including poetry) and underlying assumptions. I also realize that God hasn't patted me on the back and said, "Yes, I see your point. Okay, we'll work together, and you can be sure that you won't have any more children."
But I do think He has touched my hand and said, "I hear you. Come and know Me better."
-- SJ
When I wrote my original post, I didn't expect to continue it in a blog-length ramble of thoughts. I'm glad I did it, though. Whether or not it's been helpful for all of you reading, the act of organizing my thoughts, putting them up for public review, and then taking in your thoughtful comments has clarified my thinking.
My conclusion is one of those really annoying ones that don't actually follow the question. (Jesus' favorite kind of answer, incidentally.) The question, if you recall, was "Can I, as a Christian desiring to honor and obey God, ever decide that I am done having children?"
The answer that I'm hearing after all these weeks (months, actually, since my last baby's birth) is: "Know God better."
It isn't a matter of figuring out the right thing to do, and doing it. I've lived much of my life trying to do that, and God always frustrates my attempt. This dilemma is more an opportunity for me to sit with God and talk over all these thoughts -- over and over and over -- and learn Who He is. Maybe He'll give me an answer one day, but I don't think He's really all that interested in knowing how well I score on my final exam. He'd rather I just get to know Him better.
I think He does let us make our own decisions, but we should always be willing to change if that's what He wants us to do. In other words, I can give away all my baby stuff in a year or two, but should be willing to go carseat shopping again if I need to.
I do feel more comfortable saying that I don't want to have any more children. I see more clearly how much of the Quiverfull philosophy is based on random Bible verses (including poetry) and underlying assumptions. I also realize that God hasn't patted me on the back and said, "Yes, I see your point. Okay, we'll work together, and you can be sure that you won't have any more children."
But I do think He has touched my hand and said, "I hear you. Come and know Me better."
-- SJ
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Part VI: Foretelling the Future
I once read a Christian leader's opinion that when a couple has "as many children as they can effectively serve the Lord with," then it was admissible to get surgical sterilization.
What he forgot to include was the number of that direct line he had with God. The one that let him know when he had reached his "child saturation point," after which he couldn't serve God effectively anymore.
Obviously we have a good feel for our own limits. Health, organizational skills, emotional personality, finances -- all should play a part in how we raise and grow our families.
But it's also true that we often underestimate ourselves. When I was the mother of one child, I'd have said I couldn't manage four. As it happens, I manage four rather well. I bet I could manage six, too. Probably even eight, although just the thought makes me feel panicky. My point is that while knowing our limitations and "what we can handle" is certainly a part of our decision-making, it doesn't seem like a good idea to make family-planning decisions based solely on what I think I can or can't handle.
There are exceptions, as always -- health comes to mind as the most serious one. Even then, many mothers have weathered medical death sentences and lived to tell about it. That's not a risk I think should be encouraged, in case anyone wonders.
But when it's just a question of how "effectively" I can "serve God," it doesn't seem like I'm in the best position to make the final call. Like Bree and Hwin in C.S. Lewis's The Horse and His Boy, we think we're running as fast as we can -- until God comes behind us like a lion and inspires true passion and speed.
-- SJ
What he forgot to include was the number of that direct line he had with God. The one that let him know when he had reached his "child saturation point," after which he couldn't serve God effectively anymore.
Obviously we have a good feel for our own limits. Health, organizational skills, emotional personality, finances -- all should play a part in how we raise and grow our families.
But it's also true that we often underestimate ourselves. When I was the mother of one child, I'd have said I couldn't manage four. As it happens, I manage four rather well. I bet I could manage six, too. Probably even eight, although just the thought makes me feel panicky. My point is that while knowing our limitations and "what we can handle" is certainly a part of our decision-making, it doesn't seem like a good idea to make family-planning decisions based solely on what I think I can or can't handle.
There are exceptions, as always -- health comes to mind as the most serious one. Even then, many mothers have weathered medical death sentences and lived to tell about it. That's not a risk I think should be encouraged, in case anyone wonders.
But when it's just a question of how "effectively" I can "serve God," it doesn't seem like I'm in the best position to make the final call. Like Bree and Hwin in C.S. Lewis's The Horse and His Boy, we think we're running as fast as we can -- until God comes behind us like a lion and inspires true passion and speed.
-- SJ
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Part V: Personal Choice
"Whether you have more children is between you, your husband, and God."
This statement makes me nervous.*
It seems too pat, too easy to say that the solution to this whole family-size debate is simply personal choice guided by the Holy Spirit. That could be used as an excuse for a whole lot of things. The Bible doesn't directly address family size or birth control, but neither does it directly address abortion, living together unmarried, using drugs, homeschooling, and whether to buy underwear at Victoria's Secret. How do you decide what is personal choice and what is Christian doctrine?
It would be nice if you really could find an answer to each and every question in the Bible. However, the Bible wasn't written to individuals, but to churches, cities, and nations. Taken in that light, it does seem to leave a lot up to personal choice.
In all honesty, I hate it when God leaves things up to personal choice. Too much leeway disturbs me. How do you know if you're right and they're wrong if God didn't lay it out for everybody to see it the same way? I admit this isn't a healthy way to think, but it's part and parcel with my struggles in the area of family size. I gravitate to the teachers who say that God did lay out definite rules for everything. I want to believe the Personal Choice camp, but feel safer in the RuleKeepers Camp.
The answer must lie somewhere in the middle. Obviously your own family is your own concern. But Christians are all part of the Body of Christ, so how and what we decide affects others. That's why it's difficult for me to come to a conclusion and state it confidently. I don't want to make myself unhappy needlessly. But I don't want to abuse God's grace by declaring that whatever I want to do is between God and me, and no one has the right or authority to question me.
A side note: Churches should have the authority to question why Christians do what they do. I've known churches who do that, and the people there were spiritually healthy. By and large, though, our churches are so splintered that there's not much of an authoritative voice in any matter beyond the Ten Commandments. I think this situation leaves far too much up to "personal choice." But then, I would think that, wouldn't I?
* Partly because I always change that sentence to "among" instead of "between," then decide that you and your husband are one entity and God is the other, so there are only two parties, so "between" is correct after all.
This statement makes me nervous.*
It seems too pat, too easy to say that the solution to this whole family-size debate is simply personal choice guided by the Holy Spirit. That could be used as an excuse for a whole lot of things. The Bible doesn't directly address family size or birth control, but neither does it directly address abortion, living together unmarried, using drugs, homeschooling, and whether to buy underwear at Victoria's Secret. How do you decide what is personal choice and what is Christian doctrine?
It would be nice if you really could find an answer to each and every question in the Bible. However, the Bible wasn't written to individuals, but to churches, cities, and nations. Taken in that light, it does seem to leave a lot up to personal choice.
In all honesty, I hate it when God leaves things up to personal choice. Too much leeway disturbs me. How do you know if you're right and they're wrong if God didn't lay it out for everybody to see it the same way? I admit this isn't a healthy way to think, but it's part and parcel with my struggles in the area of family size. I gravitate to the teachers who say that God did lay out definite rules for everything. I want to believe the Personal Choice camp, but feel safer in the RuleKeepers Camp.
The answer must lie somewhere in the middle. Obviously your own family is your own concern. But Christians are all part of the Body of Christ, so how and what we decide affects others. That's why it's difficult for me to come to a conclusion and state it confidently. I don't want to make myself unhappy needlessly. But I don't want to abuse God's grace by declaring that whatever I want to do is between God and me, and no one has the right or authority to question me.
A side note: Churches should have the authority to question why Christians do what they do. I've known churches who do that, and the people there were spiritually healthy. By and large, though, our churches are so splintered that there's not much of an authoritative voice in any matter beyond the Ten Commandments. I think this situation leaves far too much up to "personal choice." But then, I would think that, wouldn't I?
* Partly because I always change that sentence to "among" instead of "between," then decide that you and your husband are one entity and God is the other, so there are only two parties, so "between" is correct after all.
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