Peter Van Doodewaard

The Kansas City Chief’s Kicker and More Reflections on Motherhood

Similarity and difference both contribute to the wonder of marriage. In the similarities there is ground for the deepest spiritual communion: We are “joint heirs of the grace of life.” From the differences—evident in intimacy and instincts and temperament and calling—spring new wonders that affect the entirety of our life together. I am not simply getting to know another human being, but I am getting to know a particular woman with all the power and glory of her femininity evident from our first meeting, our wedding, in the conception of a child, through the work of home and family and as we receive from the Lord “children’s children.” I am married to someone unknowable by a lazy mental replication of myself, but knowable by pursuit of and learning the particular woman who is my wife. How is America dealing with these differences? In a word, with violence.

The hullabaloo concerning Harrison Butker’s (an NFL kicker of repute) defense of the glory of motherhood has caught my attention. In a single speech Butker has become the face of traditionalist home-and-family Christianity and a new punching bag for conscience-stricken progressives. Young Presbyterians looking for cultural heroes should be reminded that Butker also promotes the same Roman mass that the Heidelberg Catechism artfully calls “an accursed idolatry.” In spite of this I remain deeply thankful for his courage to resist the hatred of motherhood so percolating in America.
Butker’s speech in turn reminded me of a recent gathering of men at our home, assembled to send a young bachelor off into marriage. After a hearty dinner of steak and venison the circle of the married counseled the neophyte concerning the unfamiliar terrain he was about to encounter. As you could imagine, very soon the notable patterns of the differences between men and women began to emerge in the conversation.[1] This including jesting, and not disrespectful jesting as in this case the groom-to-be was the subject of the jokes. The husbands were concerned that he not traverse this ground thinking he could fix all things, win all arguments and solve all problems.
I shared, for example, a classic conversation from my own marriage. I am not-uncommonly asked for advice: “What do you think, Peter?” I then let my bride know exactly what I am thinking: “Those shoes do not look good.” At this point there is a significant probability that she will tell me that the shoes look fine. This produces in me a childlike wonder: “Why then did you ask me what I thought?” I am learning to be content with unsolved mysteries. Similar stories were told with deep fellow-feeling as men poured last-minute marriage shaping advice into the neophyte. But deep down we knew that the young Jedi will have to learn for himself before he truly knows. The Lord so helped us, and so we prayed for him.
The ethereal matter of which we were all aware was that of the natural differences between men and women. I can testify that the men who contributed that night have happy marriages and lovely and skilled and competent wives. But we were having this conversation because we all knew and accepted something to be true about nature, God’s nature. He made them male and female. There are profound similarities between husbands and wives, and these provide common ground for communion and fellowship. There are also profound differences—some obvious and some nuanced– which deepen the joy and wonder of that communion and fellowship.
This in turn got me thinking about the differences between Lauralee and I, and how many of our disagreements have been exacerbated by me trying to make her more like me. And I think learned this to be a mistake in part by reflecting on the glory of motherhood.
Child-rearing came early into our marriage; our oldest was born our first year. In the beginning we were too young and inexperienced to notice or reflect on what we were doing. We actually didn’t know what we were doing. We parented like a new teenage driver—wheels in the ditch on one side, over the middle line moments later, no turn signals, rolling stops, hard stops, no stops, terrifying left turns and a total incapacity to integrate wise real-time counsel into the process. And I have learned that beginning drivers don’t listen for two reasons: Information overload and a reliable over-estimation of non-existent abilities. This analogy describes our own beginning quite nicely, and we remain thankful for God’s mercies, without which we are nothing.
But—recently we received from the Lord our ninth child, 24 years into our marriage. I recognize that revealing these two numbers, 9 at 24, immediately puts us into an unusual category and invites labels that those who do not have our lived experience often bestow upon us. If you are that reader, try forgetting the numbers except for one thing: The numbers mean that we are no longer beginning drivers. What we do with our children and how we do it has changed markedly, and we pray for grace to keep repenting.
And more to the topic—how I see my bride has also changed. I understand in deeper ways how God has fashioned her to be different from me, and that there is so much beauty and power and glory that belongs to femininity.[2] I marvel at her womb, in which she has nestled and carried children, and from which she has borne children in acts of strength and will that should humble the strongest of men. Her hormones ebb and flow in a manner different than mine, and this in relation to her ability to carry new life. She has breasts from which flow live-giving power, by a substance tailored and metered by her body for the life of another. These are things I cannot do; I am incapable and unequipped. And our baby, as yet unable to speak for herself, clearly knows this to be true and lovely in ways that shame the insanity of the modern age.
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How Is Jesus the Light of the World?

Jesus shone brightly at the cross, brighter at the empty tomb, and brighter again in exalted glory. His return will be like a single, world-illuminating lightning bolt. All of this light is offered to the world in the gospel, and it is received by simple trust in Jesus Christ. When we trust Jesus, a permanent change takes place: “Whoever who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). 

A few weeks ago, I was cutting wood in the small patch of forest beside our home and noticed how trees reach for the sun: in the center, trees grow taller, and at the edges, long branches strain toward life-giving power. I then remembered that Isaiah foretold the effects of Christ’s preaching:
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,because the Lord has anointed meto bring good news to the poor . . .that they may be called oaks of righteousness,the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified. (Isa. 61:1, 3)
God spoke light into existence, saying, “Let there be light,” and there was light—a substance neither pure energy nor matter, still remaining a mystery to us (Gen. 1:4). God also made light-bearers: “The greater light to rule the day, the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars” (Gen. 1:16). The greater light—the sun—is a nuclear fusion reactor of staggering dimensions and energy that bathes the earth with bewildering power. We easily forget this—busy and distracted with things of lesser glory or no glory at all—until we find ourselves groping through a dark night, or long again for the lengthening of dark winter days into springtime life and long summer glory. Light is life.
But light was also made to picture salvation. The pillar of fire was salvation for Israel, but Egypt lived in darkness (Ex. 14:20). The lampstand shone on the twelve loaves, a scene explained by the Lord’s blessing the tribes of Israel: “The Lord make His face to shine upon you” (Num. 6:24–27). The psalmist exclaimed: “The Lord is my light and my salvation” (Ps. 27:1). Conversely, this world is darkness because of human sinfulness. Disobedience means that the natural man “shall grope at noonday, as the blind grope in darkness” (Deut. 28:29). But the path of salvation is lit by Word of God, which is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Ps. 119:105).
Movement from darkness to light is salvation, and so when Jesus said, “I am the light of the world,” He made a powerful claim of both brilliant glory and saving power (John 8:12).
In this text, Jesus asserted His deity. He is the eternal self-existent “I Am Who I Am,” the Creator of the sun, moon, and stars (Ex. 3:14). He is the originator and template of the glory of light.
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In Defense of Patriarchy

Satan’s false flag operation is fueling misgivings about Biblical teaching concerning gender differences, fatherhood and motherhood, roles in marriage and male leadership in the church. (The church’s government notably has as its head a man, the man Christ Jesus, who set it up, who shed his blood for sinners in love and appoints men to shepherd the flock he loves.) Satan’s operation is a deceitful emotional appeal that can be summarized by a short and familiar formula: “God is evil, isn’t he?” But the truth is the opposite.

Last week I noticed that Ryan Gosling was nominated for an Oscar for playing Ken alongside Margot Robbie’s Barbie in last summer’s hit by the same name. Robbie, incidentally, was not so nominated. I won’t watch the film, but I recall reading that the plot features a wayward Ken promoting patriarchy, and that Barbie—won’t this help us all sleep better—rescues the world from patriarchy. It is likely that I am not the only one to detect a total public relations failure when the man gets the trophy after all.
This in turn reminded me of something I read around the time the movie came out: that the Archbishop of York of the Church of England was also worried about patriarchy, and that its troubling existence makes some understandably uncomfortable with a certain prayer that begins with the words “Our Father.”[i]
And the bishop is hardly alone. Many professing Christians sound just like Barbie and the bishop, and tell me that the church has missed something—a two-thousand-year-old fifth column called patriarchy must be rooted out of Christianity for Christianity to survive in our enlightened age.[ii] Without pulling this invasive weed, they tell me, we are doomed.
What do we make of this assessment? Is this really a noxious weed? What is patriarchy?
What is True: Decades of Bad News Concerning Bad Men
In 2002 the Boston Globe published a series of stories revealing a pattern of criminal sexual abuse in the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston. The hypocrisy caused a crisis of confidence that spread in the church worldwide, and continues to the present day—the fathers were not what they claimed to be.
American evangelicalism has not fared much better. Vision Forum promised the restoration of the Christian family through “The Tenets of Biblical Patriarchy;” instead its president confessed to inappropriate sexual conduct. Mr. “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” left his wife and left the faith.  Leaders in the Southern Baptist Convention faced serious allegations. To our shame the church has often looked more like Harvey Weinstein and Jeffrey Epstein than Job or Joseph.
My own tribe—evangelical Presbyterianism—has its own cases of the same sordid substance. This is the hypocrisy of which Jesus said: “Woe to you!” This is also the way of sinful flesh; there is nothing new under the sun, and what has been will be. Sexual desire, apart from the controlling influence of the Holy Spirit, produces all manner of wicked fruit. The lust of the flesh is destructive and evil.
But some suggest that these failures are not fundamentally rooted in individual fallen human nature but rather social structures that unequally place men in positions of influence, leading to the imbalance and abuse of power. If we solve the imbalance, so the logic goes, we will eliminate the abuse. Utopia requires the elimination of patriarchy.
What is Patriarchy?
Patriarchy simply means father-rule. The word clearly indicates an apportioning of authority. It is an uncomplicated word, used by the church for millennia. Today’s use of the word, however, appears to be confused by two things: (i) people who use it to describe unbiblical schemes (we will call this not-patriarchy) or (ii) people who think patriarchy itself is actually bad.
About not-patriarchy: The promises of I Kissed Dating Goodbye or Vision Forum or Bill Gothard should never have appealed to Christians, ever. These schemes went beyond the Law of God, lacked Gospel basics, and understated dependence on the Holy Spirit. It is no surprise that adherents later kiss Christianity goodbye. All forms of legalistic, harsh, and sinful leadership are not fatherhood but delinquency. We need to learn to recognize and reject counterfeit patriarchy.[iii]
The second concern is the unequivocal rejection of the whole thing: Patriarchy is simply very bad. Countless journalists, opinion writers and professors, the bishop and Barbie (and a growing chorus of evangelical-egalitarian influencers) are in agreement: Very, very bad.
I hear this sentiment in the Presbyterian denominations in which I travel: “Beware patriarchy,” which then is inexplicably defined as “men being unkind to women.” This particular definition often makes its appearance during discussions of abuse or sexual sin; for some this is apparently indistinguishable from patriarchy. If we were playing Clue, it was patriarchy in the church that did it. Case closed.
The net effect? Listen up, everybody: Patriarchy is a big problem. Father-rule is bad. The father is bad.
The Dangers That Follow the Loss of Patriarchy
So why even try to rescue a sullied word? Doesn’t language change? I would submit that acquiescence to the popular equation patriarchy–is-evil will result in the loss of our nation, the Christian home, the church and the Gospel. How, you ask, could this little word be so important?
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COVID-19 Reflection

Actions of massive significance call for significant accountability. Self-reflection is a good spiritual discipline, also for church leaders. Did we engage in spiritual abuse when we turned away faithful worshipers? Were we condescending toward mask-wearers seeking to protect vulnerable family members? Did we demand submission to civil government on matters better left to individual conscience? I for one am still bothered by the restrictions we did place on our own congregation. Couldn’t we have simply let sincere Christians make up their own minds on timing and masks and everything else? Did we lord it over the flock? Did we succumb to fear?

I am hopeful that enough time has passed that the church can calmly and methodically evaluate her COVID-19 decisions. We took actions of historical significance with profound consequences for the spiritual health of the church. These actions call for careful review and reconsideration—any competent organization reviews major decisions in pursuit of continuous improvement. Surely the church should lead by example.
Churches across America closed their doors in the spring of 2020. Time-delayed broadcast (nothing is truly “live”) of public worship was tacitly approved or openly embraced as a “spiritual equivalent” to gathered worship. Reopening, when it happened, was often accompanied by mask mandates and assembly limits. These restrictions were variously justified by arguments for submission to governing authorities or the importance of loving our neighbor.
Some church leaders openly criticized those who in good conscience disagreed with the limits of government power regarding public worship. People who suggested that scientific arguments for masks and distancing were inconclusive were silenced. And others, convinced of a duty to care for neighbor and live quietly under government were often harshly criticized and opposed.
What Was at Stake
We touched holy things.
The public assembly is a holy gathering, commanded by the LORD, and the pattern of the church since men began to call on the name of the Lord. The church gathered in Abraham’s house, at Sinai, at the tabernacle, at the temple, in the synagogue, and in the early churches scattered in the Mediterranean basin. Assembly is at the heart of what it means to be a Christian.
When we limited gatherings, we limited the ekklesia of God. We limited what the church for four millennia has understood to be basic and vital. This requires sober reflection.
The holy supper of our Lord is to be kept until Jesus Christ comes again. We skipped observances of the Supper.
And then—when we resumed public worship and the Lord’s supper, we engaged in de facto excommunication of fellow Christians on account of questions that can hardly be called primary, secondary or even tertiary. Masks come to mind.
The means of grace were severely diminished by those with the responsibility to maintain and protect the same.
We touched holy things like Uzzah touched the ark. Should we assume that we did well because we are still alive, or take some time for sober reflection and repentance?
Church and State
A common argument presented for such restrictions was the following: The state requires compliance and we are to “fear God and honor the king.” But this basic argument, especially in Western constitutional democracies, needs to be re-examined.
First, our political tradition allows for peaceful protest. The First Amendment of the American constitution (and for our friends in Canada the Charter of Rights and Freedoms) protects religious worship, peaceful protest, and the right to petition government. Such protest is not necessarily rebellion. Our Western tradition has made provision for such precisely because the same tradition recognizes that governments are prone to trample citizens by the untrammeled use of power. Paul was unashamed to appeal to his Roman rights, and Christians should wisely do the same—particularly in the face of growing hostility to Christianity. Peaceful protest (for example, the refusal to enforce mask mandates in worship services) has strong legal precedent in the Western tradition.
Second, our form of government does not give unlimited power to the executive. When Pastor John MacArthur resisted Governor Gavin Newsom’s COVID-19 policies, some Christians thought him to be an embarrassment—perhaps some Anabaptist still secretly existed in the Baptist. But when Grace Community Church presented their case for non-compliance to a judge, that judge ruled that Gavin Newsom was the law-breaker. John MacArthur proved to be the one who feared God and honored the king; Gavin Newsom was the rebel.
We should thank the Lord for John MacArthur and those like him who were willing to challenge the limits of executive authority by appealing to the law. Precedents established in such cases may prove of great value to the worshiping church in coming years. If you were a public critic, it’s time for some public humble pie.
Incidentally it was no less than a Supreme Court Justice who remarked recently that “executive officials across the country issued emergency decrees on a breathtaking scale
governors and local leaders imposed lockdown orders forcing people to remain in their homes. They shuttered businesses and schools, public and private. They closed churches even as they allowed casinos and other favored businesses to carry on. They threatened violators not just with civil penalties but with criminal sanctions, too.” Gorsuch expressed concern regarding government treatment of churches during the pandemic, noted that governments “surveilled church parking lots, recorded license plates, and issued notices warning that attendance at even outdoor services satisfying all state social- distancing and hygiene requirements could amount to criminal conduct.”i
If a Supreme Court Justice is concerned about government overreach, could not a sincere Christian have shared the same concerns and acted accordingly? It seems the answer should be simple: Of course, yes.
Third, and by far most importantly: The church of the Lord Jesus Christ alone has the right to regulate her worship, and that regulation is solely by the Word of God. I heard good friends argue that since the governing powers were not touching what was preached, or the liturgy to be followed, all was well. This argument has some (limited) merits, but it is not one that I would be willing to press on the conscience of another believer in Jesus Christ. It seems wiser simply to state the following: When the state weighs in on any matter pertaining to public worship, the church will humbly listen and then make its own decisions concerning the public worship of God. This is not ground we should ever give over to the civil magistrate. To use the language of Reformed liturgy, the things beginning with the call to worship and ending with the benediction are holy things that belong to the Lord, the King and Head of the church.
It is here that I would argue for the urgency of COVID-19 reflection—to make use of sanctified hindsight. The governing authorities were wrong on almost everything; masks hardly work if at all,ii vaccinations are less useful than natural immunity,iii and despite all the restrictions and vaccinations nearly everybody I know has contracted COVID-19 at one time or another.iv And amongst my entire circle of friends and family, over forty-five years of life and service in Christ’s church in three different countries, not a single friend or relative that I know died of COVID-19. This is not what I was told to expect in the spring of 2020, and it surely is a reason to thank the Lord for his shielding mercies. (And yes, I aware many did lose loved ones in the same period, and this is also reason for humble prayer.)
But—if the governing authorities were wrong on almost everything (starting with “two weeks to slow the spread”), did their dubious use of emergency powers warrant restricting the life and worship of the church? Hindsight makes things clearer.
And if this question is answered in the negative, perhaps such reflection will lead those who preached strict compliance to think far better of those who disagreed, and even to commend their courage and constancy in the face of pressures from within and without the church. Both sides ought to listen to each other, very carefully.
Love Your Neighbor
The second and very common argument was that those in favor of restrictions, masks and vaccines were those who truly understood what it meant to love your neighbor.
Neighborly love motivated many Christians. Those who were prone to be upset with mask- wearers or a friend stayed away for a time out of concern for elderly family members ought to see love in those who took such extra care.
But the “love-your-neighbor” argument has also profound weaknesses when we attempt to apply it uniformly to the whole church.
First, those who used it often asked the church to make scientific rulings on disputed medical questions: “If we loved our neighbor, we would all wear masks.” I am a pastor, and I don’t give recommendations for vaccinations, masks, or appendectomies. To require unanimity on such questions to be part of the unity of the church or the criteria for attendance on the public worship of God or admittance to the Lord’s Supper seems to be an abuse of authority.
A second problem is perhaps the greater. The argument for restrictions on the regular life of the church was often an argument for the priority of physical health and safety over spiritual health and life. But if the whole world was indeed about to die, would not true love for our neighbor led us to throw open our doors to preach the only medicine the world had left— Jesus Christ and eternal life through Him?
Fear
We return again to Justice Gorsuch: “Many lessons can be learned from this chapter in our history, and hopefully serious efforts will be made to study it. One lesson might be this: Fear and the desire for safety are powerful forces.”
Another category for reflection is fear. Did we acquiesce to restrictions or adopt policies out of fear (whether of governing authorities or fellow congregants)? This might be answered in the affirmative for those on both sides of various questions—masks come to mind again. Fear of man is a snare; it is sinful. Did we fear men?
Perhaps there is an ultimate question we need to ask: Was I afraid to die from COVID-19? Did this make me afraid to attend public worship? Did fear lead me to close the doors to my unbelieving neighbors? Christians are not to fear death.
When our session (elder board) decided to limit attendance at public worship on account of the early reports of the dangers of COVID-19, I received a Saturday night phone call from an elderly Presbyterian minister regarding the protocols for the following day’s services. He had a simple question: “What power granted to the elders of the church by Jesus Christ would permit you to turn me away from the public worship of God?”
I explained to him that the reports we were all receiving indicated that this virus had the capacity to rapidly spread dangerous illness. He replied that he wasn’t calling to discuss the timing of his death (which surely was coming but only the Lord knew when) but about the arrangements for the public worship of God in the morning.
This providential conversation moved me deeply, and I told him I would turn no one away.
Concluding Questions
Actions of massive significance call for significant accountability. Self-reflection is a good spiritual discipline, also for church leaders.
Did we engage in spiritual abuse when we turned away faithful worshipers? Were we condescending toward mask-wearers seeking to protect vulnerable family members? Did we demand submission to civil government on matters better left to individual conscience? I for one am still bothered by the restrictions we did place on our own congregation. Couldn’t we have simply let sincere Christians make up their own minds on timing and masks and everything else? Did we lord it over the flock? Did we succumb to fear?
We touched holy things, and this requires humble reflection. Maybe your next leadership meeting ought to include time for prayerful reflection on actions taken, followed by some honest communication with your congregation.
May God help us in this work of reflection, give us true repentance where needed, and by this renew our commitment to the public worship of His holy name.
Peter Van Doodewaard is a Minister in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and is Pastor of Covenant Community Church (OPC) in Taylors, SC.

i Peter Pinedo, “Supreme Court Justice Gorsuch Blasts COVID Lockdowns, Closing of Churches”, National Catholic Register, May 23, 2023, https:// justice-gorsuch-blasts-covid-lockdowns-closing-of- churcheswww.ncregister.com/cna/supreme-court-
ii Tom Jefferson et al., “Physical interventions to interrupt or reduce the spread of respiratory viruses”, Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews, https://www.cochranelibrary.com/cdsr/doi/10.1002
/14651858.CD006207.pub6/full?s=08
iii Ralph Ellis, “COVID Infection Provides Immunity Equal to Vaccination: Study”, WebMD, February 17, 2023, https:// vaccine/news/20230217/covid-infection-provides- immunity-equal-to-vaccination-studywww.webmd.com/vaccines/covid-19-
iv Erika Edwards, “What people with ‘super immunity’ can teach us about Covid and other viruses”, NBC News, March 11, 2023 https:// immune-covid-science-trying-unravel-immunity- virus-rcna72885www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/are-
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