Ezer Kenegdo - I Do Not Serve

I could start this blog out a million different ways.

I don't serve.

I am a feminist.

Ok, two ways. . . . .

So recently this topic of serving has come up in conversation.  Serving your husband, that is.  And what rampage I'm about to unleash on is purely and only my undignified opinion.  I am not trying to ruffle feathers, or change your mind.  I'm just executing my right to have diarrhea of the mouth.   I would also like to say, that this is today's opinion.  As a woman, I tend to change my mind a lot.  On a regular basis.  But today, this is how I feel regarding this whole topic.  Serving.

I think it's a bunch of boulder crap.

And I will do my best to explain why I believe that.

When God created woman, he said to Adam that she, his wife, Eve, was his ezer kenegdo.  This phrase is apparently quite difficult to translate.  (So the translater says)  In our simple English language.  Man-driven, man-applauding society, we use the words:  helper.  Or help meet.

I am utterly repulsed by this verbiage.  I was not created, the crown of glory, to be a helper.  A helper is somebody like a mother.  A helper can be a slave.  A helper can be secretary.   Or anybody who can make somebody else's life easier.  I was not created to make some man's life easier.  Oh, no.  (my pulse rate is quickening quite rapidly)

I was not made to be down-trodden, dinner maker, drink getter, bender-over to make peeners happy.  I am not a sex object or baby maker.

I will not be talked down to.  Or put into "my place" by some man.  I will not cower in fear because I said the "wrong" thing.  Or feel bad when sex didn't go the way that "he" expected.  I will not feel guilty if I say, "no".

I am a war partner.  War partners are equals.  They fight together.  Equally.  Hard.  They're rough.  And do things that don't make sense to others standing around them.  They're risk takers.  And brave.  And don't allow guilt to fill their souls. They speak the truth.  For there isn't time for mind games, for resentment, for bush hiding.

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I'll share what the translater discovered.

Ezer is used in only 20 other places in the Old Testament.  And everytime it's used, God is being described.  (Besides that one time it was used for Eve)  And it was used when God was needed to come through, desperately.  Most of the contexts are life and death, and God is our only hope.  Another way to translate ezer, would be "lifesaver."

Kenegdo means alongside or counterpart.

It goes on to say, why would you need a "lifesaver" if your mission is to be a couch potato?  You need an ezer when your life is in constant danger.

We as women desperately want to share life together as a great adventure.  Is there truly an woman who deeply desires a life of rubbing cheese-covered toes and being mommy to lazy-ass husband?  Is that the real desire?

Wanting to share in this life adventure comes straight from the heart of God, who also wants this.  God doesn't want to be an option in our lives.  An appendage, a tag-along.   And neither does any woman.
(Taken from Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge)

We were created for bigger and better than what we allow ourselves to believe.  We are ridden and riddled with guilt.  Which doesn't come from God.

When did we start thinking it was normal and our duty to play mommy to our husbands?  When did this start being ok?  And when did we start feeling guilty for NOT playing mommy?

God says that I am to respect my husband.  (Full-fledgedly agree) (although I suck green slimy balls at it)

My heart of hearts wants to respect my husband.  I don't want to cut him down with words. Or ignore his trying attention.  When he has a conviction, I want to honor him in his conviction.  Because it's not about me, at this point.  It's between God and him.  And he is held accountable to what God has for him.

God says that we are to serve others.  (I full-fledgedly agree)(although I struggle 39.4970 lbs with this)  There are so many different ways to serve.  Time, listening heart, money, action, words.  Of course this all comes down to giving.  Yes, yes!  Serving is good.  We need to meet others where they need to be met.  In the messy dirt.  With humility.  We are called to this.

BUT,  I draw a line in the sand when it comes to my husband.  And this is where the confusion comes in.  Women interpret serving their husbands as being there for their every beck and call.  And heap coals of guilt upon themselves when they don't perform to a certain level of slave-hood.

Servanthood is something that you do when their is a legitmate need.  Getting my large and ever increasing, cheese covered bottom off of the couch to fetch my husband (who is sitting in the next room at the computer on his even larger bottom) a nice cold, refreshing drink - because he asked for it - is not servanthood.  THAT is slavehood.

Another part of this whole conversation . . . I (obviously) stay at home.  Which doesn't mean that I'm lazy.  Or that I struggle finding things that need to be done.  Mothers, wives - you know that our work is never done when it comes to tending to the house and children.  But that's exactly what it is.  Our work.  I choose to stay home.  Therefore I choose to take care of the tasks that need to be accomplished for a smooth sailing ship.  I enjoy laundry.  If I didn't - I wouldn't do it.  I enjoy making dinner 3-4 nights out of the week.  If I didn't, I wouldn't cook.  I enjoy homeschooling.  I enjoy cleaning my bathroom once a week.  And vacuuming once everyother month.  I choose to not live in a land filled with resentment.  It does not work for me.  Or my marriage.  I do not sweep under the rug.  Instead, I tend to pull that rug up and give it a good shaking a few times a day.

I don't like doing dishes.  And I don't do them.  I don't like putting the children to bed.  And I don't do it.  I don't like going to church right now.  And I don't go.

But, if Big D asked if I could put the kids to bed for him, so he could study longer, I would.  For him.  Probably not with joy in my heart.  (I never said I was perfect)  But for him, him whom I want to respect.  He, who has needs to.  He who never abuses my ezer kenego - because he respects my position next to him in this war.  He knows I am his lifesaver.  Not quite the lifesaver he had in his fantasy mind, but he respects the choice God had for him.  Specifically.

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I am looking so forward to all of your comments regarding this hot topic.  Because it is a hot topic, filled with confusion.  Share away, my lovelies!

*Disclaimer*  please forgive every and all misspellings.  I'm working on the tabby cat - and I don't know how to set up spell check.