An article, a conversation, and late night reading material puts things on my mind. Last night I am struck again by how feminism has subtlety crept into me. I catch it, like a sweater on a branch, snared by its trap. Suddenly self-aware, femininity aware; desperate for flowered cottons and a quick application of mascara, hoping they will do the trick. Cover up the natural (we are sinful at heart), fast to point the finger (the serpent! he gave it to me!), looking more closely at the juice stained fingers, evidence that the fruit of the season tastes better than God ordained responsibilities.

The writer of Hebrews sandwiches a subtle warning between lauds of faith: [Moses] chose to endure...with the people of God, rather than enjoy sin for a season.

Sin is always in season.

Which is why feminism is a hard trap to avoid. It's in vogue along with the Little White Dress and flowing scarves. It's an easy pit to fall into--we are shown the tree and desire the fruit, forget what God said. And why not? We are women, we desire and are desirable. We lure and are easily lured.

But we weren't designed that way and the fruit wasn't designed to be eaten out of season. We rushed the process and we haven't stopped since that first bite. We think that freedom looks like independence and tastes sweet like sin in the moment. Feminism sneaks in when we grumble about our plot, thinking that another one looks more tillable. It slithers in and guilts us into slumped shoulders over plows we weren't meant to handle.

But we are women, strong pillars and able helpers. We are there to support the structure, not be the demise of it. We are there to be a good thing. (And, unless you are called to singleness, if you are a woman, you are called to be found: being a good thing precludes being a wife.)

But it shouldn't surprise us that out-of-season fruit grows in our manicured gardens, we are living in a fallen world and we are the first to take the bite. And so we are called to prune, to cut the snagging branches, to root out the stubborn weeds, and to deny the offer of what looks to be better in favor of what is.

"Most of those who try to find answers to these questions start at the wrong place. They start with themselves. They ask "Who am I?" "How do I really feel?" and they assume that enough people express their personal opinions in this subject we will somehow arrive at the truth in this matter. . . But this is no way to come to the truth. In order to learn what it means to be a woman, we must start with the One who made her."

Elisabeth Elliot