undo, redo: the answer is repentance

Posted on by April 23, 2025

My old crossword puzzle book is a magnificent doorstopper with over 200 puzzles in it. I’ve taken it up again, and whether they want to or not, my family inevitably gets roped into helping me with it.

“What’s fish-eating bird that starts with E, only four letters?”

“Kingfisher!” our youngest hollers.

“Four letters, starts with E,” I repeat.

“Eagle!” says a kid who shall remain nameless.

“Four letters…”

“Emu!”

“Four! Letters!”

“Oh…how do you spell emu?”

Headdesk, headdesk. Are they even listening?

Sort of. They are doing what I do, what you do, what we all do: Taking the little bit we know and running with it, rather than attending to the full picture.

undo, redo: the answer is repentance | Shannon Guerra at Copperlight Wood

I do this when I think I have the right answer to a crossword clue based on only one letter. Dateless, four letters, starts with S? SOLO, easy. It works perfectly with the S but not so much for the other letters, and after a while I peek in the back (don’t tell) and realize the correct answer is supposed to be STAG.

Duh, of course. Erase, erase, erase, brush the rubbings away, write the correct answer, try again.

Next clue! Crescent-shaped – six letters, the second one is a U.

If you, like me, thought it should be CURVED…you, like me, would also be wrong. Sigh.

None of the other letters worked with their corresponding clues, so I stole another peek in the back (that answers section really is quite handy), and found the correct answer is LUNATE. (What?! So fancy.)

I think the lesson here (other than that I need to expand my vocabulary) is that when I am faced with a problem, my first response isn’t necessarily the right one. Sometimes it is good – sometimes I remember to pray, to trust, to worship. But other times, my first response is to rifle through the cabinet and eat a handful of chocolate chips.

The real answer, of course, is about abiding and proximity. I know that one. Knowing and doing aren’t always the same thing, though, which is why we’re also talking a lot lately about going back, undoing, and redoing – or maybe what we really mean is repentance.

Let’s go back a little farther than that, though. Repentance comes later, after something has gone amiss.

We usually talk about sins in a big, broad, generic way, but the Bible often specifies between ways of, shall we say, blowing it. Like so, real brief:

  • Sins: These are basic mistakes. Whoops, I tried but I messed up, I’m sorry. You probably know that it literally means “miss the mark,” which means we aimed and intended to do the right thing, but got it wrong. SOLO looked like the right answer, but it was actually STAG. Drat.
  • Iniquities: This goes back to the root word avon, meaning “distortion or bent.” It’s more like a learned misbehavior, often (but not always) generational. They can be defense mechanisms, wrong beliefs we grew up with, or bad habits and coping skills (see also chocolate chips). It is a perversion or distortion of what is otherwise right. CURVED seemed like the obvious answer, and I’ve never even used the word LUNATE in a sentence until now.
  • Transgressions: This is outright wrongdoing and rebellion – and ironically, it’s what we usually mean when we use the word “sin.” This is when we know the right thing but refuse to do it, or we know something is wrong but we do it anyway. The intention itself is willful disobedience. Who cares what the clues and corresponding letters are? I’m going to write GFYXRT in the boxes because I want to, so there.

Wasn’t that fun? So now we know there are several ways to get the wrong answer in life…and that explains a lot.

But here’s some good news:

He does not deal with us according to our sins
nor repay us according to our iniquities.

For as the heavens are high above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far he removes our transgressions from us.

– Psalm 103:10

You’ll notice, of course, there’s a stipulation here: This is about those who fear Him. Not just anyone. It’s for those who look to Him in obedience and abiding, for those who trust and surrender, for those who repent and go back to undo and redo. Without abiding and surrender, we miss who God really is and we fall for Churchianity that is generally either harsher or fluffier than a genuine relationship with Jesus.

Because He deals with us differently depending on whether or not we find our answers in Him:

I dealt with them according to their uncleanness and their transgressions and hid my face from them.

– Ezekiel 39:24

But then there’s this interesting contrast:

Once God has spoken;
twice have I heard this:
that power belongs to God,
and steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord.
For you repay to all
according to their work.

– Psalm 62:11-12

Okay, to sum up: He removes the sins, iniquities, and transgressions of those who fear Him — and this requires our repentance and surrender. But He deals with (unrepentant) transgressors according to what they’ve done. And He repays all according to their work.

Huh. How do we reconcile all that together?

To the Hebrew!

Maaseh: Work, deed, act, labor, product, accomplishment. Meaning: an action, a transaction, activity, a product, property.

Did you notice the word “transaction?” I think this is our clue. Something is given in exchange for something else. We repent, we get forgiveness…and so much more.

Could it be that at least part of the work He pays us according to is repentance? Because this is the turning that keeps our eyes on Him. This is the surrender that admits we don’t know what we’re doing and we need His answers. This is the humility that confesses we get it wrong on our own.

Repentance – undoing, and redoing – is hard work. It requires attending to things we’d rather not deal with.

When I started this afghan a few years ago, I didn’t know what I was doing. There was no pattern in mind, just a basic seed stitch and stripes to keep my hands busy. But as I went, I loved what it became more and more. And as I loved it more, I liked the beginning less. It didn’t fit the rest of the pattern, I didn’t like the sequence of colors, I hated looking at it. In iniquity this blanket was conceived…and when we know better, we do better.

But do you have any idea how much work it is to un-knit 250 stitches to create a new edge? So much work. Tedious, annoying, repetitive, and you can’t read a book while doing it because your eyes have to be on it the whole time lest you drop a stitch and revive the phrase “swears like a knitter.”

It had to be done, though.

After deciding which row should be the new edge and where the old stuff should be removed, I wove another cable needle into the new “first” row, and un-knit all those stitches, pulling the old yarn through each individual stitch in increasingly long lengths, casting it across the couch over and over and over, and pulling it through the old loops and stitches all over again. You can’t just rip it out knitting; you have undo it a stitch at a time or else the loose (“live”) stitches will run like a gigantic hole in pantyhose.

It takes about four times as long as the original process, and yes, it is as miserable as it seems. It took me two weeks to undo it all.

But now the new edge matches the rest of the pattern…and I’m happy with it, now that I know what I’m doing. I don’t mind looking at it anymore – in fact, I love it.

If we are avoiding looking at something, it might mean we need to attend to it all the more and do some repenting. That area we’d rather not deal with is probably the one that most needs undoing and redoing…or at the very least, a little more maintenance.

Untangling, realigning, reordering. Life is messy and repentance is a lifestyle, not a checked off event.

But the redoing comes with great rewards, because since He repays us according to our repentance, we can ask for bold things:

My mouth is filled with your praise
and with your glory all day long.
Do not cast me off in the time of old age;
do not forsake me when my strength is spent.

O God, from my youth you have taught me,
and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds.
So even to old age and gray hairs,
O God, do not forsake me,
until I proclaim your might
to all the generations to come.

– Psalm 71:8-9, 17-18

And here we start to see some of the reward of stewarding our days, attending rightly, learning better and doing better. We realize what we missed, and we pick up on what we were oblivious to before.

We draw better boundaries, we go from glory to glory. Whatever happened in the past, we’ve moved forward from. And when we’ve done that, we have stewarded our days with glory, filling them with praise.

P.S. That fish eating bird, four letters, starts with an E? ERNE. Who knew? (Not me.)

stewardship of days

Posted on by April 11, 2025

Last month, that weird illness I mentioned a few posts ago blew through the Valley here and hit about two thirds of our family. So once we recovered from those fevers and aches and exhaustion, it seemed like the perfect time to expose the boys to the chicken pox and get that over with, too.

(Haha, cringe…but really, if you know, you know: It’s not sickness, it’s immunity.)

stewardship of days: how we advance a culture of wholeness & healing

It was mild and they had great attitudes about it. But any illness can throw sleep schedules off, and for the first couple days we were up at all hours, and also sleeping at all hours: One morning up and doing at seven, another night still too awake to fall asleep before one.

So I stayed up long after Vin turned off his light, and read about General Washington’s attack on Trenton. You know, the famous one that proved Americans were lethal even at Christmastime: the crossing of the Delaware in the middle of the night, and the silent advance to catch the enemy off guard while they were still sleeping off their revelries.

Out in front, a company of Virginians led the way, men whose instructions were explicit. There could be no sound, no alarm given to whatever Hessian outposts might lie in their path.

– Jeff Shaara, The Glorious Cause

I quietly turned pages in the dim light. It was 1776 and I marched along with the bandaged feet in the snow, watching for enemy scouts, absolutely loving the gutsy strategy of our country’s forefathers.

Suddenly from his side of the bed, Vin snored loudly. I gave his pillow a push.

“Shh! We’re about to attack Trenton and you’re going to wake the Hessians!”

He mumbled an apology and rolled over, and I kept reading. He made this march years ago, but it’s new to me as I’ve been delving more and more into history. It’s been a fun switch, because as I’ve grabbed more of his history books, he’s been reading more of my psychology books, and that’s not something we planned; it just…somehow happened…which means the Holy Spirit is up to something.

I’ve also been reading Ezekiel, and he, too, is dealing with the sick and the scattered and the need to purge enemies from the land in a fight for freedom:

You have not strengthened the weak; you have not healed the sick; you have not bound up the injured; you have not brought back the strays; you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them. So they were scattered because there was no shepherd, and scattered they became food for all the wild animals.

My sheep were scattered; they wandered over all the mountains and on every high hill; my sheep were scattered over all the face of the earth, with no one to search or seek for them.

– Ezekiel 34:4-6

What this looks like might be different in my community than yours, but often it looks like dark pockets of deep dysfunction. It goes far beyond immaturity and lack of education or church attendance. It looks like foolishness flaunted and depravity glorified, like whole swaths of people who need forgiven because they do not know what they do. They can’t see where they’re going and they don’t even know they are blind because the darkness is so familiar, and light is so foreign.

Also, in some of these same pockets, it looks like doctrine that’s only talked about on Sundays in voice tones that aren’t used the rest of the week. It looks like hidden magazines in the bottoms of closets, and religious books on display. It looks like awkward conversations with those who speak the name of Jesus freely and correctly because that Name usually only rolls off the tongue in all the wrong ways, and reverence on Tuesday feels out of place.

I don’t mean all that as one who looks down and condemns, but as one who looks back and remembers.

I was in junior high when I had the chicken pox. My most vivid memory of it, aside from the itching and fever, was reading (and rereading, multiple times) a book that had been newly released for my age group containing vivid depictions of bullying and suicide, complete with how-to instructions.

I think I got it from school; at least one adult in my life had read it and approved. And this was normal. If you, too, grew up in the secular 80s, you know how normalized certain things were that had no business being normal for kids.

So now we’re middle aged, with our own kids growing up in a culture that (still) needs shepherding.

And here’s the question that keeps me up at night lately: How do we strengthen the weak, and create an atmosphere of wholeness and healing? How do we remove the enemy from the land, bind up the injured, bring back the strays, and seek out the lost?

And really, this: How do we help the lost want to be found? Because if you know them, you know some who say they don’t want to be.

The more he thought about it, the more he saw that what they needed was the presence among them of holy men who would teach the ignorant, nurse the sick, comfort the sorrowful, and put the fear of hell fire into sinners like himself….

They taught the children, nursed the sick, converted the sinners, and praised God night and day.

– Elizabeth Goudge, Gentian Hill

That’s another book I’m reading. It’s so good, about a small community living on the coast during a different war. The enemy is near, trying to invade their land, so they prepare, and watch, and drill.

And here we focus more on God’s nearness, but also, the more we’re in His presence, the more we have eyes to see the infiltration of the enemy. We steward our days differently when we know what we’re fighting for, and what we’re fighting against. Because we do not fight against flesh and blood, but often it’s flesh and blood that fights against us.

Somehow we need to love them toward healing while protecting the hearts involved, but also go after the real enemy who seeks to destroy us all.

So we advance silently, walking with their bandaged feet, remembering our own wounds that made us limp in the dark, too.

Strengthening the weak and healing the sick isn’t always about late night baths and checking temperatures. Sometimes it’s about doing the unexpected, learning something outside our wheelhouse, and making a preemptive attack before the enemy gets a chance to put his pants on.

And this is why the boys had chicken pox; it had been thirteen years since the last time we’d heard of a local case close enough to take advantage of it.

“It’s not because we want you to be sick,” I told the boys. “It’s because we want your body to have a chance to fight it.”

But as I spoke, I heard God telling me the same thing about some hard situations. I didn’t want you to be hurt; I want you to be protected, and trained up to withstand attacks.

And that looks like creating an atmosphere where healing thrives, where immunity is strong, where humility is revered, where attempts at entertaining sin and sickness are immediately confronted with the disinfectant of truth in love, and shown the door.

Yes, we allowed sickness in a small measure, but we also did all the things to quickly show it the door and create strong immunity: garlic, oregano oil, baths, tea, rest. (Also, um, tons of Super Mario…because, Gen X parents, yo.) Easiest chicken pox ever; the boys might be a little sad they can’t do it again.

And to create a culture of wholeness and healing, we have to do all the things here, too, to keep the enemy out: worship, pray, confess, repent, study, learn, and grow. We discuss hard issues and process them together. We cover with grace as much as possible and confront only when absolutely necessary. (But also, we listen to country music and dance in the kitchen and, um, play a lot of Super Mario lately.)

We are shepherding and stewarding. So it also looks like deciding what we do with our time, and deciding what’s not worth that time, and deciding how to work smarter and not harder by doing things at the right times and not the wrong ones.

For example, when you only have a few minutes before you need to get a kid out of the bath, it’s probably not the best time to peruse the internet for solace and spiritual enlightenment, but there I was one evening, doing it anyway.

I scrolled to a 1-minute video that a friend shared, and a somber voice slowly intoned, “Dear Lord, I’m sorry for my impatience–”

…and I immediately clicked the X to close it.

Oh, the irony: No time for that, too busy, no thanks. Sad but true.

But also, I wasn’t just being impatient; I was prioritizing. An atmosphere of healing does not thrive in unjust condemnation, or inauthentic confession, or in watching gloomy videos when what we really need is a few funny cat memes before wrapping kids in towels and getting them to bed.

During the day, I still fight Bingley for desk space because he wants to lay across my arms while I write – which works while I’m typing (sort of) but not at all when I’m writing by hand.

When I don’t have words for anything else, I usually journal. And when that’s done and I still don’t have words for the project in progress, the last resort is to get up and do something else. This is why writers snack too much and end the day with dirty dishes and mugs all over the desk, like a college student perpetually in finals week.

Aside from all those dishes, though, were piles of papers that have accumulated for months – lists, notes for projects, cards and letters from a friend who’s much better at correspondence than I am. I need a file for those.

So I went to the shelf where the file folders are, and found one that looked empty, and behold…more papers.

Sigh. Story of my life.

These papers were more of the same. An old bookmark, old notes, another card from a friend. But also, look at this: these quotes I copied on scrap paper in painful handwriting years ago – and instead of writing the title of the book (which would’ve been helpful) I wrote the page number instead. I must’ve thought I’d remember the title, and clearly didn’t.

But it, too, has words for us here (and if you know the book they’re from, please tell me because I’ve scoured our shelves and the internet, and haven’t found it yet):

…cleanse our hearts of any unworthy motives…Let this become Your house of worship, of teaching, of ministering to human hearts, of meeting needs, of caring for little children. Let joy reign here and good fellowship.

Let this place be as a light on a lampstand, a beacon on a hill, shining out for all to see.

Again, the Spirit is up to something, making sure I’m paying attention, helping us find what we didn’t know to look for: Our hearts need cleansed, our spaces need dedicated, our purpose needs to be clear and remembered.

None of those are easy things. The simplest of them can bring us to our knees as we realize God has promoted us to the level of our incompetence so we recognize we can’t do anything without Him.

But we are present with this here, right now — you reading this, me typing this — and that is how we steward all the moments in our days, because stewardship is caring for what’s right in front of us, within reach, not distracted with other obligations and possibilities and needs.

It is my attention to my family, and my heart, and my attitude toward others, and all these relationships in the spheres around me. It is my efforts put toward the projects on this laptop, and that stack of books, and this student, and that client. It is this home, and this day, and the lesson I need to drive the kids to, and the hour I will spend there, working and waiting.

It is a million things, but it can’t be a to-do list or religious compulsion. It has to look like connection, and awareness, and Kingdom culture, instead.

We’re not showy about it, we don’t need to wake the Hessians. We take care of maintenance so we’re ready when a need arises; we have to steward well so we have wide margins that allow for freedom and power. Because the Spirit is up to something, creating an atmosphere of healing, wholeness, restoration, and strength. We make our silent advance — not in attacking, but in liberating — as we follow His promptings throughout the march.

P.S. Want these emails straight to your inbox? Subscribe here. Thanks so much for supporting this work; your subscription helps us share wholeness far and wide.

P.P.S. Remember when we talked about the Holy of Holies, and how we each hold the Temple within us, so caring for the Body becomes a sacred thing? I created a short study out of that, and it’s a free download. You may print and share as many as you need (it’s 11 pages) with your family, friends, kids, small group, etc. Right here:

Holy of Holies 3-day studyDownload

proclaim: why women, too, should go and tell

Posted on by March 26, 2025

I hate dealing with haters. Or as our 6-year-old says, the h-word.

But doing most anything gets easier with more experience, and in the internet world even the most innocent posts rile up opposition.

Like recently when I shared a few Bible verses online – which I do daily – and someone thought it was important to remind me that Paul said women aren’t supposed to teach, and that I should pray about it, and that I should also cover my head while doing so. Bless his heart.

proclaim: why women, too, should go and tell | Shannon Guerra

In the last few years, I’ve had a lot of hate from people who misunderstand a few verses in the Bible at the expense of the entirety of scripture. I’ve been attacked for sharing short videos online with prayer and personal testimonies. People have called me horrible names for talking about what I’m reading in the Bible and how it impacted me, or for sharing different connections the Lord revealed to me or things that He said to me (who knew there were so many Christians who don’t think the Lord speaks through anything or to anyone except through the physical paper in their KJV?…but that’s a whole other tangent).

And none of them agree. The responses are illogical and varied:

  • Some of them are okay with writing but not speaking (because writing is silent).
  • Some deem it acceptable to share online (Oh thank you, gracious ones…*curtsies*) as long as it’s only in a women’s forum.
  • Some allow sharing a testimony, but don’t you dare mention Greek or Hebrew in reference to Scripture because that could be seen as teaching, donchaknow.
  • Some are fine with women speaking or writing or teaching on any topic in the world as long as it’s not spiritual, because as soon as you mention Jesus or God or Holy Spirit or prayer or anything else, it becomes preaching and triggers the 1 Timothy 2:12 alarm.
  • Others condone sharing scripture and commentary as long as you stand on one foot while typing with your non-dominant hand.

You get the picture. I made the last one up, but the rest are based on actual arguments I’ve encountered.

I’ve been opposed for all kinds of things that actually do resemble teaching and preaching – like, um, teaching and preaching, I guess – but never by someone who understood the Bible in context. Remarkably, it’s only by those who view Scripture through a Western, English-speaking lens, because of course that’s what Jesus and Paul used. Hee hee.

But never have I ever been opposed by someone who also professes to be a believer fighting for expansion of the Kingdom for simply copying a few verses and posting them online. Until last week.

Slippery slope, eh? This is what legalism (including patriarchy, or complementarianism, or whatever your jargon prefers) leads to.

Irony abounds though, because many choose the side that silences women out of fear of the slippery slope on the other extreme – because ohmygosh, if women realized that they, too, have authority and are part of the priesthood and are also the chosen people sent to go and tell, it might result in bra burning, blue-haired feminism, and who knows what other chaos and nonsense.

We can’t have that. No, we have to control, instead.

So here, at least, we see the culprit: Fear. And isn’t that interesting.

What’s also interesting is that it doesn’t work at all. We have seen many slippery slopes – from drag queen storytimes to pastors caught in sex scandals – but women who just want to tell people about Jesus generally aren’t the ones sliding down them.

Fear that manifests as control is usually birthed out of offense. It happens on both sides.

People see something they don’t like or don’t approve of or don’t understand, and they get offended. You’ll know who they are right away; they’re the ones who refuse to keep reading, or only do so to leave angry, insulting comments (or they leave in the middle of the sermon and write condescending emails on Monday). They refuse to learn, refuse to move forward, refuse to allow their preconceived notions to be challenged.

But also, they refuse to trust that God knows and can handle what “those other people” are doing and thinking, and generally demand that others do and think the way they do.

This is a sad situation because instead of worshiping (which requires trusting) the Creator in the fullness of who He is and what He did, those acting out of fearful control choose instead to worship (and put their trust in) a few isolated verses at the expense of the rest of Scripture, and then use them to beat down the half of the Kingdom who possess ovaries.

And again, the irony: Their misapplication only fuels that blue-haired feminism they so despise.

How is that working out for us, Church?

Do those who misunderstand those few verses in the Bible – and yet can’t even agree among themselves – get to dictate which of Jesus’ teachings and commands apply to everyone, and which are only for men and thus forbidden to women?

Do we really think that the full gospel only applies to men?

Any honest student of the Bible will admit that there are sections here and there that seem confusing or contradictory on the surface. How should we respond?

One option is to dig deeper to reconcile and understand. Another option is to simply err on the side of silencing and prohibiting half the Kingdom from sharing the good news.

But are we not also the Temple of the Living God?

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the excellence of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

– 1 Peter 2:9

In order that you may proclaim…Was this verse written only for men? Or are women not also called to proclaim the excellence of Him who called us out of darkness and into His marvelous light?

No, no, don’t give me any BS about the many quiet, demure ways women can “proclaim.” I know. I love making chowder for a crowd, quietly praying with others, tucking my children in at night, and interceding on behalf of the world around me. I can even make a knock-your-socks-off grilled cheese sandwich. Those are some of my very favorite things.

But I also really like talking about Jesus.

And I’ve become quite fond of looking up the Bible’s original Greek and Hebrew.

Proclaim here in the Greek means to declare, to tell out, to announce publicly. So it requires a bit of volume. It’s clear that those particular men (and some women) who demand silence are sitting on the wrong side of both history and scripture.

Fortunately, when people stand in opposition to God’s commands, we are called to obey God rather than men. We’re in good company here:

So [the religious leaders] called them and ordered them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus.

But Peter and John answered them, “Whether it is right in God’s sight to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge; for we cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard.”

– Acts 4:18-20

It’s getting late. Writers check their word counts like executives glance at their watches, and we’re at 1200 words already and just look at how you’re hanging in there. Well done, high five.

But here we are, and I haven’t even gotten to my notes yet about what I really wanted to share with you.

So first, quickly, there are tons of resources that explain the context, language, and cultural value of the cherry-picked verses often misused to keep women silent (here, here, here, and here are some excellent ones). You should read them if you’re interested (and if you’re not, you should definitely read them).

With all that out of the way – this is how we work smarter, not harder, because most of the trolls have probably left the room by now – I’ll tell you about my most recent trip through the end of Romans, written by Paul, who also authored most of those often misused verses.

** opens notes, cracks knuckles, rubs hands together **

Romans is 16 chapters long and we’re starting in the middle of 15. I’ve read it a gajillion times before (okay, probably only twenty) but never noticed this:

I myself feel confident about you, my brothers and sisters, that you yourselves are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, and able to instruct one another.

– Romans 15:14

Huh. Instructing is a lot like teaching, and “one another” means they are not segregated (like into sexes), but together.

Okay, carry on. Now we move to chapter 16, and right off we see this:

I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church at Cenchreae, so that you may welcome her in the Lord, as is fitting for the saints, and help her in whatever she may require from you, for she has been a benefactor of many and of myself as well.

– Romans 16:1-2

This woman, Phoebe, was a deacon. Some translations say “servant” but the Greek word is diakonos, the same used for “servant” or “minister” all throughout the gospels and the rest of the New Testament.

She was also a “benefactor” – which is sort of a vague term, but in the Greek (yay, fun!) it’s prostatis, and more specifically it means patroness, helper, protector, or guardian. Paul says she was this for him and others. Because of the language of this text, many believe it was Phoebe who delivered and read Paul’s letter to the Romans – and that, of course, would’ve required speaking aloud, ahem.

Moving on:

Greet Prisca and Aquila, my coworkers in Christ Jesus…

– Romans 16:3

First, if you’re thinking of Priscilla and Aquila, yes, same people. If you’re thinking that Prisca is a short nickname for Priscilla (like I did), it’s actually the other way around. Prisca was her name, Priscilla was a nickname – adding “illa” was sort of like changing Anne to Annie.

Secondly though, and more relevant to our discussion, she’s mentioned before her husband. That stands out as odd and notable for their culture, which would generally have put the man’s name first. Putting her name first (which happens four out of the five times they’re mentioned together) indicates her role in teaching and ministry was more prominent than her husband’s.

Okay, skip a few verses mentioning a couple more people, and we land on this:

Greet Andronicus and Junia, my fellow Israelites who were in prison with me; they are prominent among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was.

– Romans 16:7

Junia was an apostle. This is shocking and abhorrent to some people, and they run to certain translations that watered the phrasing down to make it sound like she was simply known to the apostles. But no, we look at the original language and she was among the apostles – among, meaning she was part of that group, and it takes some theological backflips to say she was just there with them but not actually one of them.

Paul mentions many men and women in this chapter, showing clearly that they’re working side by side in ministry and leadership.

Then he finishes his acknowledgments and immediately launches into this, and it’s no accident:

I urge you, brothers and sisters, to keep an eye on those who create dissensions and hindrances, in opposition to the teaching that you have learned; avoid them.

– Romans 16:17

What is more divisive than telling half the Kingdom they cannot participate in all of the Great Commission? What is more hindering than telling that half to stay quiet?

For such people do not serve our Lord Christ but their own appetites, and by smooth talk and flattery they deceive the hearts of the simple-minded.

– Romans 16:18

To be fair, not all who teach this are purposefully serving their own appetites – they are just passing along what they themselves were taught, and they want to do the right thing, and that’s to be commended. But that mis-teaching has been based in self-interest, deceiving the naive – or, “akakos,” meaning innocent, guileless, simple…those who are focused on doing the right thing but without deeper understanding or knowledge.

And we need to pursue deeper understanding and knowledge. We don’t want to just be right, but righteous.

For your obedience is known to all; therefore, I rejoice over you, but I want you to be wise in what is good and guileless in what is evil. The God of peace will shortly crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

– Romans 16:19-20

With the state of events right now, it is no wonder that the enemy would try to use the very scripture Christians revere to diminish the spread of the gospel. What is so slimy though, is that he has managed to use many in the Church to perpetrate the quelling of it.

It boggles the mind to see how out of touch that mindset is with not only scripture, but also the dire needs of a world on fire. People are living and dying amid wars, persecutions, sickness, and depravity, so how can anyone in the Kingdom possibly justify telling 50% of Christians to be quiet about Jesus, and just let them handle it?

We can’t. We were never meant to.

So go into all the world, and tell.