Sometimes I have a hard time seeing the reasons why women need a mate.
And though I may lean in the direction of feminism, I don’t proclaim to be a feminist revolutionary by far. I spend a lot of time questioning the purpose of things. Asking why more often than I should. Don’t get me wrong, it sounds feminist to say: “oh, a woman doesn’t need a man” but conversely: A man doesn’t really need a woman either.
I understand the biblical perspective. When you consider why God ordained marriage to include a husband and his wife it makes complete sense. I understand the importance of a God- ordained family structure; raising children in a two-parent (of opposite genders ) household. I believe the body was supposed to function as he designed it; apropos, beyond the life-giving familial aspect, I am not convinced that a relationship is essential. What if you never marry? What if there are no children to raise?
A relationship would be nice to have, but certainly not essential.
If I were to do a study, I’m sure it would be far easier for me to find single men of the Bible. Single men were talked about constantly, but what of single women? How did they fair? Single women of the bible stayed in their father’s homes; they remained unmarried virgins (Miriam) or were taken care of by their brothers (Tamar), and as they got older several followed and financed the 3-year ministry of Jesus. But what of the independent single women? Where are they Biblically? No, I don’t mean the popular widows like Anna and Naomi, but women who never married, those that spent their lives on their own (ie: Mary & Martha, Lydia too perhaps). How did singleness work for them?
Did they ever feel like they needed a man?
I’m sitting here, more upset than I really should be because my dresser drawer has been broken for three weeks. And although I called my dad who provided a solve to the problem, circumstances have unfortunately limited the resolution of the issue. Each day I walk past the broken dresser. Frustration builds at the sight of it. Not only does it throw off the visual cohesiveness of the dresser, but it simply drives me crazy to see it every day! It should be fixed by now!
And little ‘ol me—Little ‘ol feminine me—am just too tired of messing with it. I want it fixed. I want it functioning. NOW!
At 3 am this morning, after having to walk around the dresser drawer that I’ve carelessly left on the floor, I heard myself implode (while looking disdainfully at the broken drawer):
“THIS is why I need a man!”