Let’s have an experiment. Starting in thirty seconds, I want you to use the Bible’s words in daily conversation about sexuality, it’s right exercise and it’s manifold perversions. Use those words without having or pretending to have any shame in their existence. I have my stopwatch out; and I’ll time how long it takes for you to be called a chauvinist. Ready…Set…Go.
I’m a chauvinist; at least that is what I’m told, probably on a weekly basis. If you’ve considered calling me that, trust me, I’ve already gotten the news. In fact, I’ve been called worse things. Basically, I’m like a Saudi prince, without the oil money. “Bag up the ladies. Don’t let them drive. Beat them on a whim. Tell them they’re more likely to go to hell. Aloha snack bar!”
At least, that’s what I hear in the marvelous West.
But before you come to a decision on the appropriate sentence for my high crime against all you hold dear, you know, that equality crap, come into my world, and open your eyes. Tell me if I’m guilty of “devaluing women”. Tell me whose world is more beautiful, yours or mine.
In my world, man looks at woman and says with happy heart, “You are my glory!”
In my world, men diligently stand guard on behalf of women, against the wiles of Satan and the deceptions of sin, by blessing women every week with sound instruction on the good faith and the good life.
In my world, men stand in respect when a woman enters the room.
In my world, women sit and eat first.
In my world, men fight on the front lines because the women on the home front are so lovely.
In my world, men hold the doors for ladies and escort them home, not because they want something from them, but because they want to bless them with a protective presence.
In my world, men absorb the price of fellowship over food and drink.
In my world, the man breaks his back in the fields so that the woman can focus her attention on nurturing the children at home.
In my world, young men help old women climb mountains, holding their hands the whole way up and down.
In my world, women survive sinking ships, burning buildings, and floods.
In my world, George wins the girl with the glad affirmation of the father by slaying the dragon.
In my world, when a murderer begins to slaughter people at a Jason Aldean concert, a Marine shields a woman from raining bullets with his own flesh, a woman he had met just hours before, and repeatedly captures her attention with a strong and reassuring voice, “We need to move. We cannot stay here. It isn’t safe. You’ll be ok.” In my world, he leads her out of danger and to the safety of her family, standing strong between her and evil.
Welcome to my chauvinistic, women-devaluing world. Breathe in the air. Smell the hyacinth. Talk to the women in my world. See the creases around their eyes, dug over years of laughter. See their bright eyes, eyes that know male leadership, protection, and consistent provision. Ask them about the evils of their oppressed existence. Offer them freedom. Liberate the captives.
Or don’t. Visit my world, and you’re free to stay.
It isn’t all that bad, being a zoo exhibit from the Ice Age.