Bone of My Bones. Cynthia Gaw

      Bone of My Bones

      Copyright © 2015 Cynthia Gaw. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions. Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.

      Resource Publications

      An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers

      199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3

      Eugene, OR 97401

      www.wipfandstock.com

      ISBN 13: 978-1-4982-2552-6

      EISBN 13: 978-1-4982-2553-3

      Manufactured in the U.S.A.

      Dedicated to the loving memory of our son

      August Skye

      and to the shalom of

      Sara Marie and Hunter Skye

      Author’s Note

      At the commencement of this book I stand upon a very strong and stable bridge about to jump into a whitewater of controversy. The conversation into which I plunge rages. But because those whom I seek to persuade share the bridge, I believe agreement is possible. We have so much common ground. We share a high view of the Bible as our final authority and a common set of hermeneutical principles by which to interpret that inerrant revelation. We share the same Savior, Spirit, and Father to lead us into truth and model for us relational perfection. We are all organic, essential organs of the same holy, catholic and apostolic body of Christ on earth. And we all know that our God has chosen to edify us through that community. We trust alone in Christ for our salvation, so unity will eventually be perfected in him. We share the knowledge of our finite and sinful natures which obliges us to humility in the face of infinite truth; we, none of us, have perfect understanding and are, therefore, needing to hear the understandings of our brothers and sisters in Christ that the transformation of our minds may progress. For this purpose we need those who disagree with us more than those who agree. These brothers and sisters will, however, do us little good if we do not listen, and really hear, what they say. The authority and truth of the Word of God is not threatened by a human misunderstanding or blind spot. But transformations in our thinking which are consistent with that Word prove it powerful and efficacious.

      Those I seek to persuade not only share a firm foundation, but also important conclusions on our subject. Equality of essence is not denied by any of us. We agree that monogamous, heterosexual marriage is prescriptive and good. We agree that gender diversity is complementary. We agree that service to God and others from a motive of love is not demeaning, but a positive act of freedom and an enlargement of the human personality. We agree that nurturing and training children happens best within a loving family and that it is a high calling for both genders. We agree that temporary, gift and talent-based hierarchies are sometimes wise. The point of disagreement I address is that the Scriptures teach a gender-based hierarchy within the church and family.

      I have declined to write an academic book on the subject because it simply is not needed. All necessary research has been done and written up. So I have chosen fiction, a genre not true to facts, but true to both ideas and experience. The university campus setting is my world, in that sense only is the following narrative autobiographical. I speak only of my experience. All characters are fiction.

      Prologue

      To the woman he said, “I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.”

      —Genesis 3:16

      Drew came in through the walkout basement door of a fraternity house on Clement Street. He knew the guy sitting at the little Formica table was not a student, and that his name was not “Joe”; but he had been highly recommended by his older brother, John, who was experienced in these matters. A quick glance told Drew that “Joe” had all things necessary in this basement. A locked built-in cabinet, a shelf with unused steel-wool and an unopened box of sandpaper sitting next to a well-used can of paint stripper, a Victorian dining chair needing refinishing, and an old laundry sink completed the scene. The odd tools, camping equipment, tennis rackets, golf clubs, and many pieces of luggage held their obvious and legitimate place in storage. Drew sat down at the table across from Joe and pulled out his wallet.

      Joe said, “My work is guaranteed, but your girlfriends must be between one hundred twenty and one hundred fifty pounds. Make sure they are ‘good girls’ with absolutely no alcohol or drugs onboard. Mix this with two quarts of orange juice and two quarts of 7-Up, both cold. Float some lemon slices for insurance. Fifteen minutes from consuming four ounces of the substance, they are yours. Unconsciousness is possible between twenty and thirty minutes, but they will come back about forty minutes from consumption. Return them to the place of consumption by that time. By forty-five minutes they will be with it, but not feeling all that great. You hope they want to go home and take a nap. For if they fall asleep, they won’t wake up until past time for detection in urine.” Drew handed Joe four crisp one hundred dollar bills. Joe handed Drew a bottle like one he had seen many times in the “Colds” section at his pharmacy. It read “Sterile Saline Nasal Relief Spray.” In smaller lettering, he saw “Clears Congestion without Medicine.” Drew left the basement less than two minutes from entering it with the distilled curse in his hand.

      Chapter 1

      There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

      —Galatians 3:28

      She felt she achieved an insight into her new culture when Nora learned that the largest bookstore in Poplar was Firm Foundation Christian Books. The fact related to the astonishing number of Baptist churches in the small town coexisting with almost every other denomination she knew. She pulled into its generous parking lot from the main highway coming into town from the south. It was situated in her least favorite part of town, where the box stores and fast food chains congregated, and where pedestrians were practically prohibited. Cyclists who shopped in the area constantly risked serious bodily harm. The surroundings contrasted with the old downtown she and Luke so enjoyed. Firm Foundation comfortably neighbored a Walmart big box on one side and a Lowe’s home improvement store on the other.

      She was here because the moving van was missing an important box when it arrived in Poplar. The most difficult decisions in the moving process had been about books. The library was the heart of their old home and the room in which they spent the most time. It had floor-to-ceiling, built-in bookcases on three walls and both their desks on the other. The new house had only two small bookcases, and the moving company charged by the pound. Books aren’t light. Nora’s extensive collection of children’s literature was divided up for the grandchildren, and only the most useful and important of the other volumes had been boxed to bring across the country. She had missed the box marked “Bible Reference” even before the movers left. Their inventory checklist confirmed her disappointment. The box next to item #267 was not ticked, and the truck was empty. Today’s errand was to estimate the cost of replacing item #267, but it was not replaceable. Her Strong’s concordance, for example, had been given to her by her father, and its copious marginal notes begun when she was thirteen years old. Her Kittel’s New Testament dictionary was safely on the shelf in the new house because those ten volumes had filled a box of their own. She always found it difficult to consider her New Testament dictionary, especially when she had Galatians 3:28 on the back burner. Here was a brilliant man and a great scholar of the New Testament who could interpret Paul’s letter to the Galatians and enthusiastically and anti-Semitically support the Nazis. The text had not been the problem, but the cultural blind spot of the man. Dr. Schaeffer had several times reminded