Just like the Bible.
Which was what I was trying to wade through at the time. But honestly, who cares about Canaanites and Perizzites and all the other bad guy Ites? What difference does it make if I look at a map and point out a town called Kiriath-arba or locate the Nahalol or Akrabbim or the River Kishon—which I can’t. Are these even real places? They sound like something Bilbo Baggins came up with.
Some days it’s all I can do just to speak English.
I dug in anyway. The Book of Judges. Dum dum de dum. Just sounds like a fun day at the zoo, doesn’t it? Well, I was after something that couldn’t be found on Facebook or Twitter or the internet—Truth. And a little shot of courage.
What I like about the Bible, even though all those weird spellings slog me down like hiking through a mud bog—okay, I haven’t ever done that on purpose, but if I did it would definitely feel like slogging. What is surprising about the Bible is its honesty. And authenticity. With the exception of Jesus, there are no superheroes hidden in those pages. Just people like you and me who took a risk. Or not. Like I said, it’s an honest book.
The people whose weird names are written there were really messed up. Failures. Weak and flawed folks who couldn’t keep a promise if it had a winning lottery ticket attached to it. If the Bible was the book of fables some people claim it is, shouldn't it make everybody on God’s team look like a bunch of high school football heroes? Instead, the Bible tells the painful truth about their screwed-up lives, making you wonder if God showed up too late for the first round of the NFL draft.
Well, He is a last-minute God.
I take a lot of comfort from reading about the stupid things Bible people did. Because I do a lot of stupid things, too. One of the dumb things I do sometimes is hide. Or pretend to be someone I’m not. Everybody wants to be accepted, right? Peer pressure is a powerful thing. Something happened in my life years ago that made me run for cover. One day I ran here, to the Winepress, which is an unlikely place to write stories but a pretty safe place to hide.
In my defense, I’m not the first person to do something like that.
There was a guy—in the Bible—a flawed guy who was so afraid of confrontation that he moved the family wheat business inside an old winery to hide it from a bunch of bread burglers who were terrifying all the local villagers. He did all his production work at night inside that abandoned merlot facility. Which, by the way, wasn’t very effective. There he was, deep in a hole in the ground, beating up innocent wheat stalks while the worthless chaff fell back down on his own head. Really messy.
He lived like that for a while. Until God, King of the last round picks, showed up one night and told our little baker, Gideon, that he was a hero and a warrior and a courageous victor. It wasn’t how Gideon saw himself, though. The small, frightened man with so little chutzpah it could only be seen under a microscope. That’s when the supernatural kicked in. Because God doesn’t call the equipped. He equips the called. To Gideon’s credit, he believed God, emerged from that hole-in-the-ground winepress, kicked a LOT of butt, and obliterated the enemies of his people so thoroughly even Bible scholars don’t know how to spell their names anymore.
True story.
So, I read Gideon’s comeback kid tale. And then I decided to come out of my own Winepress. Inspired by a couple of women in the back stories leading up to Gideon’s emancipation, I started a second blog site (listed at the end of this page) where I take a few more risks when I write. Practice a little more transparency. Exhale a bit more honesty. That initial problem which sent me running for cover has been confronted, and now I am ready for new scenery. You and I are the only versions of us that exist. We are needed. Or, as my granddaughter likes to say, “You be you, Boo.”
Out of the mouths of babes.
I’ll still be posting here in the Winepress. I love writing humorous stories and this is the right place for them. My heart is here, too. But freedom calls. It’s time to take off the mask I’ve been hiding behind. To be the woman God knows I am. I’d like to meet that woman face to face.
And see that God gives strength to men and women alike, even crediting the winning touchdown sometimes to the hand of a woman. Meet you at the end zone.
InTheHandOfAWoman.blogspot.com
With thanks to Mike Hoff for the inspiring photo seen above. The original photo can be viewed on Mike's page by following this link:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/crashmaster/2892956241/in/photolist-5pDa6T-5CFgGy-oYcXe4-2Z8Q7N-2Z8Kxs-2Z4gCp-5CwM2d-346N9S-2Z9w31-fT2bi6-5uYXEE-5rA1wn-39svdM-39syS9-2Z9BWA-5rq8XX-7Htx4S-8BkoQ5-8Bko8y-8BkpiE-29ym6oL-nEMvL2-nEMrzM-8BkmUh-8Bkor1-29ym6js-8BhdVr-NyFCSg-5CHjj5-5rEnmC-g3Gjhd-5ruiJQ-fT3eLQ-Mcgott-fT28M4-gHVGpw-4cMsH5-5AcbYg-g3GeSH-5pDa3H-fHoTna-5CFZnS-gNgyNW-2Z9xPy-gPDgyT-fFWnuL-fT39iB-29ym64s-g3GP2r-5pHsKm
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