I was pacing back and forth in a prayer room in Kansas City one Friday morning in June when I heard that it had happened.
Marriage between a man and a woman had been reduced to preference—no longer a Biblical, moral, human statute. What had been from millennium to millennium, and established from the beginning of human history by our Maker, had been blacked out in a day by the opinions of men.
And the public unraveling of identities began taking the spotlight as never before.Am-I-a-woman-or-a-man identity. Who-did-God-make-me-to-be identity.
Precious people, made in God’s image, don’t know who they are, don’t know how valuable they are, don’t know how made-on-purpose and chosen they are.
News reports began boasting, others began retaliating, and headlines read that no matter what gender the sign on the bathroom door denoted, one could enter whichever he or she felt like.
My husband and I are soon to bring a new little life into this world. And we are starkly aware of the culture our sweet babe is being born into—one that’s declaring that gender is of no matter, that choice of gender is not God’s choice but the choice of our own sentiment.
But counter to the devastating lie that our world is circulating, we are thrilled to share this news:
Our baby is a GIRL.
And with pinks and bows and dresses we are celebrating who God has fashioned.
He, with unalterable certainty, has given us a daughter.
And our joy is running over…
She will never have to carry the superfluous burden of wondering what gender she is. Her Maker, in His perfect wisdom, decided that for her. He knew her before the earth’s foundations, and knows her now as He miraculously knits her together in the depths.
She’s a female, through and through.
Even now, at just twenty-one weeks in the womb, all of the eggs that can one day make her a mama are already stored up in her tiny frame.
In January we are due to hold our baby in our arms, and God is preparing my body to take care of her, as He formulates each mother’s milk to be gender-specific. He’s giving me “girl milk” so my daughter will get all the nutrients needed, just for her.
On the day Jon and I learned her gender, we wept elated, rejoicing tears together… followed by a shopping trip, where her daddy picked out her first dress.
In the days ahead, we will rejoice over her in all her girly-ness. I’ll fix her hair with curls and braids and give her her first tube of lipstick.
Maybe she’ll be like her mama, and be one of those girls who doesn’t mind being covered in mud from head to toe. Or maybe she’ll be a prim and proper one. Or maybe a little of both.
I’ll teach her how to master the mascara wand just right so she doesn’t smudge, how to dance princess-like, how to cook a good meal (because the old saying is still pretty true–the way to a man’s heart really is kinda through his stomach).
And I just bet we can convince Daddy to paint her toenails (because after all, he has painted Mommy’s a time or two).
And one day, Daddy is going to walk his baby girl, dressed up all fancy, down an aisle to give her away to a worthy man (if there is a such a one…)As the years progress, we are going to call her forth in her identity, in her destiny, as a strong woman of God.
We’ll pray for her every day we have breath, asking God to show Himself to her, to give her a heart that loves righteousness and purity and wisdom, to make her heart His own.
And we will pray that she, chosen before the world was made, would fulfill all of God’s purpose for her in this generation into which she is being born.
Praise God for baby girls.
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