It’s interesting that something so commonplace and natural to me can be such a mystery to others. You see, I’m a black woman married to a white man. For many — perhaps more than would like to admit — my marriage is viewed as radical, strange, or even unbiblical. People are confused about interracial relationships and this was made clear in a recent “Ask Pastor John” podcast.

A listener wrote in to ask an important question: “Can a white woman marry a black man?” I applaud the bravery of this woman because instead of remaining confused she searched for wisdom. What may have been surprising was that the podcast generated many hits. To me this indicated that there are others who are searching …

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If you’re struggling with legalism, don’t fight it by quitting your quiet times. That’s the good advice I remember once hearing from a pastor.

In other words, there’s a temptation to presumably fight legalism by running away from good things, whether Bible reading or acts of love, because we mistake them to be part of the problem.

We women are susceptible to this temptation. We are bombarded with choices. Between schooling options, birthing styles, what we should wear, and even what we should or shouldn’t eat, it is easy to confuse principle and practice. A confusion can set in on whether we are really living for God’s glory, or if we’re shackled to legalism. But I think where the confusio…

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The other morning I woke up while my children were still sleeping and began to pray. I started thinking about my identity. What am I? Who am I? As I settled into my prayer time I began to rejoice at the thought that I am a mother. It is part of who I am. To my children it is my name: Mom.

The modern mom doesn’t always like to be identified as a mother. We are “liberated.” We have names and identities of much greater significance. Even the Christian mommy would prefer to keep her mom identity in check. “I am a Christian first and foremost,” we might say. This is so true and so good. We are first and foremost identified as united to Christ. He has redeemed us and therefore our identities are …

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We call it accountability. Beginning in 2001 I had the privilege each and every Friday afternoon to meet with two women for mutual encouragement and prayer. We did this for several years and remain accountable to each other to this day. The reasons we started meeting were simple: we were young Christians wanting encouragement in our walk with God. We wanted to build a deeper, more meaningful friendship with a few women. And we were girls and loved any excuse to hang out and eat together.

It was a real friendship. The purpose of our meeting was simple but the benefits were endless and life-changing.

For Our Protection

We know that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. When I …

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February is Black History month. In 1976 the United States government officially acknowledged this month as an annual celebration of noted Black historians, scholars, educators, and publishers. School days for me during the month of February meant learning about historical Black figures like Frederick Douglass, Rosa Parks, and Martin Luther King, Jr. The posters would go up and we’d be required to dive into heavy research on who these people were and what they did. But as quickly as the posters went up, they disappeared when the calendar turned over to March 1. As earnest as our research had been, once February ended, these people were basically forgotten.

February is a wonderful time to re…

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The new year ushers in new resolutions and fitness historically lands at the top of new year’s resolution goals for most people. I’ve been a part of the fitness industry for nearly eight years off and on. Each January fitness facilities are flooded with new members and new participants in group fitness classes (where you would have found me teaching classes).

I assume part of the reason is we’ve just spent two months eating enormous amounts of food celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas. The other reason is each year seems like a time to start anew.

Some Value

I’m not opposed to that goal. Caring for our bodies can be a way to honor God. God created us not to lay waste to our bodies th…

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I have walked this earth a short 34 years, but in that time I have experienced a wide range of various trials. As a young child my parents struggled financially resulting in the occasional electricity being shut off and visits to a relative’s home. During my freshman year of college I was the victim of sexual assault (not rape thankfully). A few months later my father passed away from his battle with cancer. As a young adult I have experienced four miscarriages, general health issues, and recently the sudden loss of my oldest sister.

And yet, I am joyful; but not without sorrow.

Real Pain

Trials of any kind bring a rush of emotions and potentially pain. The pain is real. The sorrow is…

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As explained in my review of A Year of Biblical Womanhood, much of Rachel Held Evans’ book could be summed up, sadly, as an attempt to discount the validity of Scripture. I am hopeful that she does not intend for this to happen, but it is unfortunately what happens when she repeatedly speaks of the Bible as being outdated, useless in parts, and at times downright horrific — including at one point describing having a terrifying nightmare as she contemplated the texts (62). Tragically, that is her claim.

Evans is troubled by many things in the Old Testament, but especially by the harsh consequences in the law that follow from sexual sin — consequences that often required the death of men and…

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There are several reasons why I decided to read and review Rachel Held Evans’ forthcoming book A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband "Master" (Thomas Nelson; October 30, 2012).

I certainly am not writing this review out of any sense of convenience and comfort. Here’s why I did:

First, as a Christian woman who adheres to Reformed doctrine, I believe the Bible to be the inerrant word of God, written by men, inspired by God, infallible in all that it teaches, sufficient for all of life and doctrine, and the very words of God, words from God. And this new book from Evans is a recent example of how t…

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It was the summer of 1998. I was leading a private camp and awaiting the arrival of my assistant. She arrived with her blonde ponytail, blue eyes, and bubbly spirit. She was a few years younger than I — and seemed it. Not that she was immature, she wasn’t, but there was innocence about her that poured out as she spoke and interacted with the campers. Our first meeting would be God’s way of changing the whole course of my life.

That girl was Elizabeth Plewniak (Moore at the time). She and I were polar opposites. I was black and she white. I was in college and quite academic and she had decided to leave college early to do campus ministry. Later I would find out that she came from a fairly w…

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