Epilogue
Epilogue
When we consider Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus or Hebrews 11 (the biblical Hall of Faith), or when we consider all the other women and men who walk out of the pages of the Bible, we, without even trying, recognize our sameness with this unseemly lot.
We . . . meet sundry folk
even more exotic than ourselves.
“By adventure”—
by happenstance—
we have fallen into fellowship.1
Try as they may, most of them fall far short of what we—and they—have idealized as the holy Christian life. We do them no service when we gloss over their flaws and failures. It is no different when we look about us in church, or when we gather at the city park for a grand family reunion. We see those about us as we see ourselves if we are honest.
Should it be any different when we open the pages of our Christian heritage? Should we be surprised when women of faith have feet of clay? For too long good Christian biographers have tried to convince us that these women were mostly sweet ladies, more than that, saints and heroines. But we have learned that neither Hildegard nor Teresa of Ávila were saints in a conventional way. Nor were Amy Carmichael, Fanny Crosby, or even Mother Teresa. Indeed, messy spirituality permeates the Bible and the record of Christian history.
As such, these women offer road maps and signal detours on our own journey—a journey that looks backward to help us avoid the rough terrain ahead. But through their sacrifice and self-denial and passion, they also offer the inspiration of mountain vistas and the sparkling energy of river rapids. We have fallen into fellowship, and they join us on our journey, our own pilgrimage of faith.