Today was as cold as yesterday – though there was a bit more sun. And tomorrow will be colder still with more wind. I was relaxed after work. Tired but at ease. Resting on the couch, massaging my feet when he came back.
“I do not permit, I will not allow, a woman to teach or otherwise assume authority over a man,” he said without preamble. Jump to. Ready. A surprise attack. “She can have no authority over any man. She must be quiet. Adam was formed first, then Eve. Adam first and he was not deceived. It was the woman that was deceived.”
So this was the game? Round two? General ad hominem attack on my character and motive hadn’t brought him the satisfaction he expected, so he was back with another hoary old chestnut: weaponized scriptural attack.
“What of Isaiah’s wife?” I asked in response to his opening gambit.
“Who?”
“Isaiah’s wife, the prophetess.”
“No. No. She doesn’t count. She was only a prophet by nature of her relationship with the prophet Isaiah, and the fact that she bore his children.”
“Is that what you think Paul meant when he said that women will be saved through childbirth rather than sola fide?”
“You’re twisting…” He said as he shrank back, but only briefly. He smiled and turned again, smoothly pivoted, ready to flank me.
“How about Miriam?” I asked before he could launch his next attack. “She was a prophet too.”
“Yes. Yes, but only to other women.”
“And Huldah?”
“Who?”
“She was a prophet in Jerusalem. The High Priest came to commune with her. To speak with her. He asked her questions and she advised him.”
“I’m sure that can’t be…”
“She’s the one who authenticated the Book of the Law discovered by King Josiah.” I pressed on before he could regroup. “And we can’t forget Noadiah. Though she may not be the best example, as she was condemned as a false prophetess. Still, there are prophets and false prophets and there are prophetesses and false. Remember her anyway. God does.”
“Are you done yet?”
“No. No. Never. We haven’t even mentioned Philip’s daughters yet – prophets each one, and none of them married. They held the role without a man.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is there more?”
“No. I’ve said enough, I think.”
“Are you sure?”
I said nothing, merely rubbed my weary feet.
“For all your so-called examples from scriptures, you have nothing of the divine nature in you. You misread the scripture to your own destruction. But neither do you have a human nature. You are a void. Empty. Debase. And freely joined with Satan. You are the paradox of freedom. You do what you want. Say whatever comes into your little brain. And anything you say destroys the harmony of the universe.”
I sighed. “So… I’m evil. You hate me and I’m evil.”
"Yes and no. But in reverse. I love you. That’s why I confront your evil.”
“You haven’t listened. And that’s not love.”
“So argue, then. Stand up and fight. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“That’s not me. I will not fight the argument.”
“But we do. We fight the darkness. We fight the darkness that is within you. Am I offending you? Do I make you cry? Step up. Step out. When the shock wears off You’ll feel better, but you’ll be screaming in the end.”
Having made his attack and ignored my response, he disappeared again, departed from me – for a season. I’m sure I’ve not heard the last from him. Him or another one like him. Still, my feet felt better, somewhat, and I was ready to relax before work again tomorrow.
