For nearly two millennia, Christian women have learned to pray in the language of other people’s souls. From worshiping God as father to envisioning a holy life as a military campaign, they’ve been taught to approach the Divine with the hearts and minds of men.
—from the description of the book She Who Prays on Powells.com
See, *this* is why I rarely read spirituality books written for women. What the ever-loving flying monkeys? Last time I checked, Deborah, Miriam, and the Blessed Virgin Mary all had girl parts. And that’s off the top of my head, and not even getting into the great Mothers of the Church, from St. Mary of Magdalen to St. Brigid to St. Julian, St. Clare of Assisi, the Ss. Teresa (Avila, Liseux, Calcutta)…
I haven’t read this book, but I think I know what it’s all about, having read others of its ilk. It’s about how to be a strong, loving, caring woman without ever raising your voice or causing the status quo to tremble-topple-fall, because God is a big, fluffy bunny who wants everyone to just be happy.
Right now, I tell you what, the language of my soul is mostly obscenities.
When you become a Christian, you aren’t issued a Get-Out-of-Life’s-Shit-Free card. You have to deal with the same stuff everyone else does. And sometimes dealing with that stuff means taking the hard line and putting up a fight for what’s right.
Yes, there’s some nice, fluffy, pretty pastoral poetry in the Bible and other spiritual writings, and that can be a comfort. The battle has ultimately been won, Jesus Christ has conquered death, but death has not conceeded defeat. We still have to do battle, Kill Bill style– twin swords of truth and love freeing our friends, neighbors, and ourselves from the darkness.