My style journey has spanned through the full range of creative expressions. I have donned the vintage, the artsy, the casual, the grunge, the chic, the bohemian, the sexy, and the exotic fashion style. My current style borrows artfully from each of these.
My coming to faith has informed the philosophy from which I derive my style. I invoke the word here in its active form – as a verb. Styling; to give a particular style to something, to confer a flair or finesse to the way you dress. Personally, I have always liked plain solid colours in cool or neutral tones. I enforce a maximum of three different colours in an outfit. Of course, single-colour and monochrome outfits are first prize.
I never imagined that I’d fall in love with (and feel at home in) the girly and feminine too. I never imagined that my maturing in style would mean playfulness, appreciating tiny floral prints, bows, warm colours, ruffles, and stilettos. When I purchase scents I’m looking for something that smells like food – something sweet and edible.
Prayer is rooted in the belief that there is a power greater than oneself that can influence one’s life. The Latin word from which “prayer” is derived means “obtained by begging, to entreat.”
There is no set way to pray. Prayer has a very personal meaning arising from an individual’s religious background or spiritual practice. For some, prayer will mean specific sacred words; for others, it may be a more informal talking or listening to God or a higher power.
My own prayers are typically spoken prayers, silent prayers, and prayers of the mind, the heart, and what I can best describe as ‘union with God’. Prayers take different forms; they may be directed (with a specific outcome in mind) or non-directed. They may be intercessory, contemplative, meditative or petition.
Though what is true about prayer across the board is that it helps improve my spiritual health. Prayer helps me develop a relationship with God [1], helps me gain an understanding of God’s loving nature [2], and provides answers [3]. Prayer also helps me find direction in my life [4], gives me strength to avoid temptation [5].
Prayer invites the Holy Spirit into my life [6], aligns my will with God’s will [7], and helps me become more like Jesus [8]. Along with fasting, prayer helps me accept God’s will [9].
Moreover, prayer improves my overall wellbeing. I was surprised to learn that there has been research conducted on this issue. The research concludes that prayer can calm one’s nervous system, shutting down the fight or flight response. It can make one less reactive to negative emotions and less angry.
When prayer uplifts or calms, it inhibits the release of cortisol and other hormones, thus reducing the negative impact of stress on the immune system and promoting healing.
Ultimately, prayer begets peace. It elicits the relaxation response, which lowers blood pressure and other factors heightened by stress. It also releases control to something greater than oneself, which can reduce the stress of needing to be in charge.
Prayer brings a sense of a spiritual or loving presence and alignment with God which elicits feelings of gratitude, compassion, forgiveness, and hope, all of which are associated with healing and wellness.
– Lele M
Notes:
[1] Just like my parents here on earth, my Heavenly Father wants to hear from me and talk to me. When I pray, He listens. Then He answers my prayers.
[2] The scriptures teach, “God is love” (1 John 4:8). I can feel that love as I speak daily with Him through prayer, seeking His guidance in my life.
[3] Praying and listening to the answers God gives me can help me better understand my purpose in life.
[4] When I privately pray to God, I can work through serious decisions in my life. God always listens and often provides the specific answers and guidance we seek. Even when He chooses not to answer immediately or in the way we might have hoped, prayer itself is a way to find peace.
[5] Jesus counseled His disciples, “Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation” (Matthew 26:41). Through prayer, I can overcome temptations to sin. Praying for God’s help to keep me from making wrong choices gives me the strength to do what is right.
[6] As I pray daily, I invite the Holy Spirit to be with me and to comfort and direct me. The Holy Spirit can give me answers, help me feel God’s love, and bring feelings of peace and joy into my heart.
[7] The purpose of prayer is not necessarily to tell God how I want Him to do things. Rather, it’s to better understand Him and His ways, bringing myself into alignment with His will. As C.S. Lewis is often attributed as saying, prayer “doesn’t change God. It changes me.”
[8] Jesus set the perfect example of prayer. If I try to follow His example through prayer, I will become more like Him and develop a better relationship with Him and Heavenly Father.
[9] Jesus fasted for 40 days and 40 nights before He began His ministry on the earth. As He did this, He communed with God in prayer. Likewise, when I pray and fast, I feel closer to God and better understand the things He wants me to do.
Over the past two years I have been consuming a significant amount of content surrounding femininity, homemaking, and womanhood. I hadn’t been taught how or what it meant to be woman, much less feminine and woman. And as I grew older and became a staunch feminist, I was not interested in learning. Now I am.
Allow me to share my five favourite women creators of content under the themes of femininity, motherhood, homemaking, and womanhood.
On this journey, I have learned to take lessons where I can find (learn) them. I draw inspiration from various sources; Scripture, my experiences with women around me, and the insights of courageous women I find online who are audaciously feminine.
Behind my fervor is my hope that what I glean will be the canon of knowledge from which I will someday teach my own daughter.
“I don’t believe women should be pastors,” she repeated. Although her eyebrows rose to emphasise her words, her voice retained its candor and clarity. She let the words rest in the air unassumingly.
He gave her a perplexed look and both of them fell silent for a moment. He seemed to be allowing her the pause she needed to deliver her punchline. The punchline was a few seconds overdue when he realised it would not be coming. She wasn’t going to renege on what she’d said. At this, his shock turned to curiosity.
“Why not?”
Thinking of Ephesians 5:23, she said “I don’t believe the Bible teaches it. I believe in the headship of the husband over the family and congregation.”
Her matter-of-fact demeanor was disarming and his eyes narrowed in a slight reflex.
These days, I find myself wanting to qualify my position. I appreciate that I don’t have to. I simply feel I should.
I do it because I want to assure my interlocutors that they are not speaking with someone who doesn’t give thought to these issues. I want to offer them relief. I want to assure them that there would be no need for platitudinous sloganeering. I want to dare them to be honest. I want them to know that I am eager for critical reflections.
I want to play open cards. I want to ensure they aren’t seduced into conversation by the appearance that I may be an ideological damsel in distress so lost in oppressive thought and confused by the patriarchy that she couldn’t even see she needed help.
I want to offer them peace and ease about making arguments which they may think are so foreign as to offend my sensibilities, so revolutionary as to shake the foundations on which my convictions stand, and so unlike my own as to assault my very existence.
I want to dispel any presumption that I have only ever believed what I now know to be true. I want to reassure them that I have considered the contention. I care about the subject matter, I will be careful with it.
Her eyes softened and she smiled warmly. “You know, I actually used to be a feminist.” He thought he heard a note of sincerity resonate somewhere in the back of her voice.
Her attempt to put him at ease was having the opposite effect. He couldn’t understand why a dynamic and opinionated young woman living in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the contemporary world would abide by archaic doctrines.
Something caught the corner of his eye as he studied her face. It hung around her neck on a delicate silver chain. It rose and fell gently as she breathed. The sleek symbol reflected the afternoon sunlight in a soft rhythm which gave it the appearance of swaying girlishly. It was the instrument by which early Roman soldiers tortured and killed Jewish insurgents. The cross.
He shook his head incredulously and smiled before he looked squarely into her eyes, reclined in his seat, and asked the question she had been expecting to hear.
In recent times I have reflected at length about womanhood – what it is, and entails. This is because of the ever increasing prevalence of gender ideology and transgenderism. Primarily it has been influenced by my coming to faith and accepting my identity in Christ as the views which shape my perspective on gender ideology are taken from Scripture.
Who and what is Woman? If you consult the internet, you may find answers to the effect of;
Urban dictionary –
‘A real woman is a woman of virtue. She allows the man to have his authoritarian role, but also doesn’t allow anyone to walk over her and diminish her value and what she brings to the table. A real woman understands that there is a two player part in what a man and woman can build together, as a unit.’
‘I would define a ‘woman’ as a person who is a legitimate foil for (white) men’s sexual, social and political dominance, and who is thus worthy of protection from (general, random) patriarchal violence. ‘Women’ exchange their subjection to general, random patriarchal violence for subjection to their husbands’ patriarchal domination when they become ‘wives’. ‘Wife’ is understood as the pinnacle of the social status known as ‘woman’.’
Oxford Languages –
‘an adult female human being.’
Scripture provides that woman was created in the likeness of God, and from man’s rib. Woman has relational capacity, a nurturing nature, vulnerability, beauty, and responsiveness. Throughout this series, I will lay my personal journey bare and present my exploration of womanhood. This is your invitation to join me on this pilgrimage, if you dare.
There’s a chance you will read this, and although it frightens me, a part of me is hoping you do. A larger part of me than I care to admit. If you do, if you are – yes, I’m loving through letters again. I can’t help myself.
We reflected on our relationship one day. We were both taking accountability for our influence on the course of our relationship, which is standard practice in these reflections. Until I reached an epiphany of the adage “all’s fair in love and war”. I’d always understood how all’s fair in war. But how could all be fair in love? How were love and war alike?
The answer came to me in that conversation. We weren’t just reflecting on ourselves. We’d taken the time to understand, and contend with, the other’s perspective and feelings. In that, we’d found the silent pleas we’d missed in our emotional stupor – pleas for affection, protection, support, peace, and patience. We found out just how much we differ in our thought despite similarity in our needs.
Consider this; we both believe we’re fighting on the right side. We’re both convicted enough to pursue it ‘by any means necessary’ – such that we can justify causing harm in pursuit of what we believe is right. One cannot tally the rights and wrongs in a relationship to determine a score for each partner.
By the end, I realised we’d both been both right and wrong (often at the same time) too often for it to matter. And that’s the nature of being in a relationship, as it is with war. All is indeed fair in love.
I hadn’t understood this until I realised how much we’d been through together. How much we’d put each other through. How much of it was avoidable, and how much of it was not.
I have loved loving you, being loved by you, and loving with you. Some of my best memories are with you. We’ve also been through the wire – serious character building stuff. From everything we’ve had to learn, to everything we’ve had to forgive, we’ve both grown tremendously. I’m proud of us.
We’ve done well, you and I. We make a monster team.
I am on a journey to make my apartment a home. In my previous blogpost, I wrote about home being more than just a physical space. I reflected on the way in which home (as a place where one lives permanently) includes one’s mental latitude and, more fundamentally, the presence of God. Here, though, I address my experience with the material details of homemaking.
A home requires several practical components; lighting, heating, seating, refrigeration, etc. One seldom contemplates these practical demands when fantasizing about moving out and living on their own. This is the unalluring facet of not just homemaking, but growing up – adulting, as they say.
For the first time, I am actually contending with the price of a stove, fridge, microwave, sofa, and other articles of furniture. And boy is there plenty with which to contend! Even electricity, water, and refuse are primary considerations for maintaining a home. I don’t believe anything could have prepared me for the fiscal task of transforming my space into my home – my sanctuary.
This has been a proper test of my character. I have had to employ a range of competencies to navigate this journey – such as planning, focus, self-control, awareness, and flexibility. I am learning that homemaking and life-management are concomitant. Both require aptitude in managing time, managing money, communicating with others, maintaining one’s environment, healthcare and self-care, stress management, building personal relationships, and setting healthy boundaries.
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and frustrated by the undertaking, other times I feel ineffective and helpless. At all times I am grateful. Thank God that my help cometh from the Lord. Thank God that my life was never mine to manage nor my home mine to make.
‘If transgenderism has reduced womanhood to its superficial characteristics, allowing anyone to don it like a Sunday hat, at least part of the reason is that our culture has spent decades divorcing sex distinctions from gender roles.’ – Leor Sapir, City Journal
I had been looking to see ‘What is a Woman‘ for a long while before I finally did. I knew of the film because I am a regular listener of the podcast hosted by the documentary’s creator, Matt Walsh. Not only had there been a thrilling buildup to the documentary’s release, there had also been robust reviews both for and against the film following its release. Writers had either been labelling the film and those involved in its creation as ‘transphobic’, ‘bigoted’, and ‘genocidal’. Or hailing ‘What is a Woman‘ as a must-watch offering of truth and tenacity.
I could hardly take my eyes of the screen throughout my viewing of the documentary. Walsh takes the viewer on a journey that is both gripping and farcical. In his critique of transgender theory and activism, Walsh’s vast range of interviewees includes doctors, psychologists, women’s march protest-goers, gender and sociology professors, university students, Maasai tribesmen, and the average thinker on the street.
Among many factors, what makes the film compelling is the manner in which some of Walsh’s interlocutors are bizarrely stumped by the clearest of questions. I opt for the word ‘clear’ intentionally. Unlike Walsh, I am reluctant to describe the questions (particularly the titular question) as merely ‘simple’. The word ‘simple’ denotes that the question is easily understood or presents no difficulty. The assertion that ‘what is a woman?’ is a ‘simple’ question is brilliantly and consistently disproved by the documentary itself. In transgender discourse, the question has in fact become complicated one.
To this end, the film is an exceptional example of ‘clarifying terms’ and ‘sharpening contradictions’. Defining words and establishing meaning is the best place to draw the battle lines in a culture war. That is why ‘What is a Woman?‘ is a film worth watching for those interested in contending for truth in the age of transgender ideology.
Since I came to Christ it has been easier for me to accept Him as Saviour, than it has been to accept Him as Lord. Not only because obedience doesn’t come easily to me (I am yet to meet the person to whom obedience does in fact come easily). The difficulty with accepting Jesus as Lord over my life is largely because of the dictates and principles to which I am required to comply. Paul authored one such principle in the verse above.
Paul recognised that the divided loyalties of some believers in the church of Corinth was negatively impacting their close Christian communion, causing a serious spiritual disconnection between them. And so he warned of the dangers this behaviour had on their spiritual growth.
Although Paul was not implying that the Christian must be completely isolated from unbelievers, the principle is a challenging one – any relationship that hinders or prohibits a developing relationship to the Lord is better terminated, even before it begins to develop.
Prayer
Heavenly Father, thank You that I am Your child and have been made a new creation in Christ. Help me to choose my friends and acquaintances wisely. Direct me, I pray, in the choices I make with regard to the close, personal relationships that I choose to engage in, and may all I say and do be to Your praise and glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
I moved into a new place recently. It is a small cottage in a lovely, quiet suburb. It is easily the most beautiful and peaceful place I’ve had to learn to call home.
I’ve always regarded myself as a homebody. Not only am I an introvert, I prefer to stay indoors. I don’t just want to be alone, I want to be alone at home. I have been through seasons when I never wanted to leave the house because I was uncomfortable being in public and socializing. There have been two such periods which I can recall – once during my teens, and again coming into my twenties. Both these periods lasted about two years.
During these times I would leave the house only when it was absolutely essential. I would be irked even by those tasks which were indeed imperative and required that I step out of my comfort zone. Home was my safe space. I did not necessarily love and enjoy being in the space I called ‘home’, I simply preferred it because it was where I could be on my own, and embrace my reclusive state. This distinction will become important later.
On the other hand, I have been through other seasons during which I felt a deep discomfort being home such that I would look for reasons to stay away. These didn’t even have to be good reasons; any would do. Whether it was being out with friends, at school doing extracurricular activities, visiting relatives – I would be eager to leave the house, and I would dread returning. When I was home, I would itch for reasons to leave again.
Fascinatingly, the reason behind this strong aversion was the same reason that I had, at other times, preferred to stay in; being at home meant being on my own. Though during these times the mere thought made me uneasy. I was uncomfortable with my own thoughts. And after a while of running from my thoughts incessantly, there was the added and overwhelming deterrent that they had become unfamiliar to me. I simply didn’t know how to be with and handle my thoughts – my own stillness was foreign to me. These seasons, too, have occurred more than once in my life, and also spanned an approximate duration of two years.
However, for as long as I can remember, I have never had the experience of loving my home and loving being home. I have never had a healthy relationship with my home. Whether it was my childhood home or a university residence, I viewed these spaces in one of two ways.
I viewed home either as nothing more than a desperate hiding place, akin to how an addict views their drug of dependence – no longer using for the euphoria it may induce, but for fear of being sober. A mere lesser evil.
Alternatively, I viewed home as my demons’ lair, a den of terror to be avoided my any means necessary. It was a place where my thoughts would be forced into the light of silence and solitude, a place which threatened to expose the dark corners in my mind into which I was not yet ready to venture.
When I fell in love with God, my perspective on home changed drastically, such that I’ve discovered that I am a homemaker at heart. Imagine that! I don’t just love homemaking, I delight in it. It actually brings me joy.
I take pleasure and pride in creating a clean and peaceful environment for myself and others. I find fulfillment in tasks such as cleaning, cooking, baking, and decorating in the home. I love to fill the space with lovely aromas, whether through gentle scented candles, a pot of savoury stew on the stove, or freshly baked chocolate brownies cooling on the kitchen counter. I love to set the atmosphere with beautiful flowers, pictures, and furniture.
Along with this revelation of myself, I came to realize that this is the healthy middle I had never known and never experienced – this ‘loving being home’, and also ‘enjoying being out of the home’ was strange.
After all, I’ve learned, it is on my afternoon walks when I take in my surroundings that I realize how much I appreciate nature and flowers in particular. I stop to smell their petals and stroke their leaves. These experiences of mindfulness in my outdoor natural surroundings, bring me to want and appreciate flowers in my domestic space. Being outdoors helps me to appreciate my time indoors even more, and inspires me to make my home the perfect sanctuary for me.
I am ultimately finding that homemaking requires me to be comfortable both in my home and outside my home. Don’t get me wrong, although all things are possible through God, I’ll probably always be an introvert. Even outdoors, I’ll likely always prefer the spaces that are least populated.
Though despite my personality and disposition, I am learning to feel at home regardless of where I am. I am learning that God is my true home, and He is always with me. Home is always with me. I am always home.
Lele Muthali 