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Raising strong, godly women

Honestly, I think we do a pretty good job raising strong, godly women. When I look at the young women my kids bring home and the young women where I work, I’m impressed.

First, by their fearless faith. These young women aren’t afraid to say the name of Jesus in the grocery store. They form small-group Bible studies. They share their faith in cities around the world. They study theology in college. They tattoo Scripture on their wrists or ankles. And they look forward to singing “Jesus Loves Me” with their children someday—if God so blesses.

I’m also impressed by their stewardship. From early on, they’re serious about developing the talents God gave them. They organize community volunteer efforts, say no to the party the night before the ACT, and box out like a boss on the basketball court. They go get their PhDs so they’re even better equipped to serve. They know some women want to be CEOs and some want to stay home with eight babies, and it’s all good. Their only desire is to spend and be spent for their Lord.

I’m impressed by their character too. They know mercy trumps mascara every time, and real beauty isn’t found in having “Princess” printed on their behinds but in proudly wearing the crown of Christ. They’ve resisted bullies and survived #MeToo experiences. Their eyes pan each new room, looking for people who need a kind word, a cup of coffee, or an ear for a story others aren’t willing to hear. They’re humble. They’re gentle. They’re dedicated.

The real question is not “How can we raise strong, godly women?” We’re doing it. The real question is “What do we do with them next?”

Do we let them use the gifts they’ve so faithfully developed? Do we allow them to share their God-given wisdom? Do we let them take their various places in the body of Christ?

Or are we a little afraid of them? Does the word strong make us nervous when it comes to the female half of God’s church? Do we inadvertently send the (erroneous) message that in the body of Christ, God wants each woman to be a hand—someone who works hard and then hides herself in a pocket?

A while ago, I hired a student writer who’s smart, hard-working, and creative. As we talked, she had an interesting habit. At the end of each sentence, she raised her voice, as if to ask a question. I encouraged her not to do that. I told her God gave her that intelligence and that voice. I told her God didn’t give us a spirit of timidity but of love and power and self-discipline. I told her the world and the church don’t want her shushed. They want to hear what she has to say.

Help prove me right. Listen to your daughters. Encourage them. Acknowledge them as the Priscillas, Phoebes, and Eunices of our day. Remind them of their Savior’s love. Then stand back and watch how he blesses the service of these young women.

Laurie Gauger-Hested and her husband, Michael, have a blended family that includes her two 20-somethings and his teenage son.

Encouraging our daughters to be strong women of faith

When my father caught wind of my plan to “witness” to our neighbors, he sat me down for a discussion. He was happy to hear that I wanted to witness my faith, but he wanted me to examine my methods. As earnest as only an eight-year-old pastor’s daughter can be, I had launched into a listing of errors in Catholic dogma. My father gently but sternly informed me that this was not witnessing; rather, it was arguing. He in no way wished to squash my desire to share the Word, but he wanted to direct my thoughts and words toward a more loving sharing of my faith. How wise of God to put this headstrong girl into a faith-filled, Bible-based, evangelism-minded family.

My own strong-willed daughters are strong women of faith and starting to raise daughters of their own. Looking back, I have come face-to-face with an undeniable conclusion. I did little. God did much.

God gifted me with a Christian husband who entered the ministry as our children were starting school. Not all WELS churches have schools, but at each church we served, we had one. Even in our first small parish on the East Coast, our children attended a WELS one-room school. The amazing woman of faith who taught our children there has continued to be an example to our children and now our grandchildren.

Our daughters have had some incredible role models in each church we attended. They noticed some; we noticed others. We talked about them. They were living textbooks. In one large urban congregation, there were a number of single mothers. They were charged with the religious education in their homes. It was truly humbling to see the sacrificial efforts they made to ensure their children knew their Savior.

If you don’t have a Lutheran elementary school, take advantage of what your congregation does have to offer. Supplement religious education with age-appropriate materials available through Northwestern Publishing House. Take time to emphasize the many women of faith in the Bible. Point out the Marys, Marthas, and Hannahs in your own congregation.

Give your daughter the tools to lovingly defend her faith. Have conversations about controversial and uncomfortable topics and apply God’s Word to them. Help your daughter stand strong in the face of today’s moral ambiguity. Sometimes God’s Word is very clear on a topic. On others it may be a matter of opinion, taste, or even tradition. Try to discern which is which and pick your battles accordingly. When you raise strong women of faith, they may very well have strong opinions. Exercise caution when you find yourself on the other side of the fence in matters of adiaphora, that is, things not directed by Scripture.

The most important thing I can recommend is prayer. I have had many conversations with God about the trials peculiar to girls and women in our society. My prayer is that we encourage the women around us in faith so that they might lift each other up. I have seen this trait carried on with my daughters as they make applications of their faith in their daily lives. They are strong supporters of other women and their walks with God. We women need to do this for each other and our daughters.

Mary Clemons lives in Los Angeles, California, with her husband, Sam. They have three children and seven grandchildren.

Raising gentlemen

Sometimes we forget that Jesus is both strong and gentle.  

The One who shouted down the wind and waves—“Be quiet!”—also let little children clamber onto his lap for a blessing. The One who started crying at the sight of his beloved Jerusalem also strode into the Court of Gentiles and started slinging a whip, toppling tables, spilling coins, driving out the merchants who didn’t belong there.  

It’s a good reminder that a Christian man can be both strong and gentle, recognizing that strength is not brutality, and gentleness is not weakness.  

I still like the old term “gentleman.” I want to raise up sons who are gentlemen, whose gentleness is actually strength wrapped in wisdom. My picture of a gentleman is based on my gentleman father.    

A gentleman knows he’s physically stronger than most women, so he opens doors for them, carries the heavy boxes, and walks on the curb side of the sidewalk for their protection. Dads, let’s model these courtesies. Moms, let’s sometimes say, “I need somebody’s muscles for this bag”—even if it’s not that heavy. 

A gentleman knows when he has to get physical—as Jesus did. Sometimes brutes only respond to brute strength, and a man has to defend himself, his friends, family, or country. Moms, if God made our little boys the wrestle-on-the-floor type, we can let them exercise that instinct. And if God made them more inclined to defend others with words than wallops, we can let them exercise that instinct.  

A gentleman cries. Let’s never say, “Big boys don’t cry” if crying is exactly what a situation calls for. If we have an overly sensitive child on our hands, though, one who cries at the drop of a hat, well, that’s a whole different article.   

A gentleman respects others. This plays out in a number of ways.  

  • A gentleman gives others room to speak. He doesn’t need to dominate, filling rooms with his mansplaining and withholding praise for others. Instead, he’s a leader who listens. Dads, you can help by leading that way yourself and by refereeing the kids’ verbal tussles: “Hey, don’t interrupt each other . . .” “Try saying, ‘Yes’ first. Find points of agreement before you disagree.”  
  • A gentleman cleans up. Moms, we need to rein in our instinct to pick up every vagabond sock and clean up every mess because it’s faster. Let the lads take responsibility for themselves.  
  • A gentleman has good manners. He looks people in the eye, shakes hands firmly, and says, “Please.” He doesn’t start eating until everyone has their food, and he knows how to chew with his mouth closed. This isn’t pretension. It’s respect for others.  

Finally, a gentleman keeps his word. He’s trustworthy. He has integrity. The whole world can depend on the word of a gentleman.   

Your picture of a gentleman might be different than mine. That’s okay. Hopefully we all agree, though, that our boys can be both gentle and strong, just like Jesus—the One who said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” and also “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart.” 

Laurie Gauger-Hested and her husband, Michael, have a blended family that includes her two 20-somethings and his teenage son.  

Balancing strength and gentleness

Teaching our kids to find a balance between strength and gentleness is tough, because there’s a tension, isn’t there? On the one hand we’d like to see our kids strong—leaders making use of their gifts. On the other hand we want them to understand the value of gentleness—a humility, putting others first.  

As Christians we know to look to God’s Word for answers, and what we find is very satisfying. Whether we’re talking about the strength side of the scale or the gentleness side, it’s not about us; it’s about God. That takes the pressure off. 

For example, a child who is strong in an area tends to gain a level of notoriety. If the child takes credit for the strength, there is a lack of gentleness toward other children who don’t have that strength. There is an unspoken condescension, a misunderstanding that she somehow achieved things on her own to be better than other kids. God’s Word tells us that our talents and abilities are gifts from God, and it is God who should receive the glory. A child who properly understands this can be strong and gentle, humbly thanking God for opportunities, and acknowledging that other kids, through their own strengths or even weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:9-10), are equally blessed with opportunities to glorify God. 

A child’s acts of gentleness can also be flawed. He may figure that niceness should earn him niceness in return. If that doesn’t happen, the child might decide there is no longer any advantage to being nice. The Bible teaches that since God has shown us undeserved love in forgiving our sins against him through Jesus, we are called by God to show love to friends and enemies alike. A child who properly understands this can be gentle and strong, showing the grace of God even in the face of resistance. 

As parents it’s beneficial to regularly be in God’s Word ourselves and with our kids to really grasp God’s strength as well as his grace and how it affects our lives. The Bible is full of good examples, but perhaps the best place to start is with Jesus himself, our perfect model of strength and gentleness. His Sermon on the Mount offers a great perspective.  

Remember how it felt to be kids dealing with social pressures? We can pray that God through his Word would help us relieve our kids’ stresses by teaching them that they aren’t alone when it comes to demonstrating strength and gentleness. Rather, God through Jesus has blessed us with the privilege of sharing his strength and gentleness with others. 

Adam Goede and his wife, Stephanie, have four children ranging in age from 5-12.  

Finding strength in gentleness

How wonderful it is to have the opportunity to teach gentleness and strength to our kids. However, I have to admit, I wonder how my wife, Kelly, and I are fostering gentleness and strength in our kids within a culture that seems to encourage one over the other.  

“Be strong!” “Be assertive!” “Teach your kids not to cry!” “Don’t give in!” “Win at all costs!”  

Gentleness can be seen by some as weak, vulnerable, or cowardly. Kelly recently witnessed this at our local drug store and shared it with the kids and me when she got home. A customer in line ahead of her became verbally abusive to a cashier when an incorrect amount was accidently charged on her debit card. The customer accused the cashier of intentionally trying to steal money and provided some extra choice words to enhance her position. Kelly noted, though, that the cashier was cool, calm, and gently responded to the customer to acknowledge her concern, reassure her, and make the adjustment or refund—and even thank her for shopping at the store as she left.  

When we talked about the event, I asked, “How did that cashier not get angry?” I think that the cashier was using more strength than the customer in that instance.  

We can appreciate our culture’s understanding of strength—but we shouldn’t use it as an excuse to be abusive and go well beyond appropriate assertiveness. As we consider the example of Christ Jesus and are motivated by his love for us, a simple act of gentleness can be an unselfish act of love that so many people are yearning to see.  

Consider the strength it takes to, “Do nothing of out selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:3,4).  

The amazing thing about this is that the strength it takes to be gentle and unselfish is given to us by God—it’s a natural result of our faith and love for him. After thinking about Kelly’s experience, I can now better appreciate the essence of a gentle response in the face of what some view as a “strong” approach. I can’t help but apply this to my own parenting and my temptation to sacrifice gentleness for strength or control.  

I’m convinced that experiences similar to what she saw in the store are all around my kids on the episodes of the latest Netflix series, in school, or on the “funny” YouTube video shared by friends. These poor examples of others being strong or selfishly stronger than others won’t teach appropriate boundaries or proper assertiveness to our kids, but they can be opportunities to give to others what is so desperately needed—an example of strength in gentleness as a result of a loving faith.   

Dan Nommensen and his wife, Kelly, have a teenage daughter and a pre-teen son.