I had to read this chapter a second time for two reasons. First, it took me a while to get past my jealousy. Ortlund begins the chapter by describing her surroundings: Honolulu, watching yachts. Second, she told me to buy more books. That sounds too good to be true–no one, gentle reader, thinks I need to buy more books–so I had to re-read. Just to be sure.

Describing the yachts does have a material point: the importance of the invisible in keeping the boat (one’s life) steady. A key part of this is what we do in our quiet times–and this is why she says to buy books. The goal is to buy those books that reflect something we really and truly care about: “Begin to build a personal library which is truly meaningful to you” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 70). I am here for that. She also relates it back to the “eliminate and concentrate” idea introduced in an earlier chapter. Now, I don’t know if I can get rid of books–Marie Kondo would not be pleased with the number of books in my library. That said, maybe I do need to think about it in different terms. Maybe. Someday.

As you might expect, Ortlund writes that the other key section of the library should relate to one’s faith, and that there should be time devoted daily to studying scripture. A good half of the chapter focuses on this and includes some personal anecdotes.

For me, the key take away of this chapter is this idea of “submerg[ing] as much of your day as you can, to make it your invisible keel, by eliminating less important things” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 71).

And now for the most important question: What’s in your library?

This chapter is all about controlling your time. How are you doing in that respect? I could certainly do better.

Ortlund’s words in this chapter feel current and relevant. She uses ‘time leaks’, but I have no doubt she’d understand ‘time suck’ and point to Social Media as an obvious one. Her advice sounds familiar: identify bad habits and ‘time leaks’, only handle a piece of paper once, read the important stories in the paper (yes, gentle reader, this book dates to a time when people actually read the news in hard copy), and keep a calendar by the phone (back when your phone was stationary) and a notebook in your purse.

Her notebook sounds like a forerunner of the modern Bullet Journal. I started using the Bullet Journal system in January, and it’s been fabulous and for all the reasons Ortlund describes. 1) I don’t have to remember things. 2) I can see what’s coming and better control my pace. 3) It prevents time wasting and limits (note, I don’t say eliminates) procrastination. 4) It helps me prioritize. The other thing she lists (her number 3) is that she “can see at a glance whether [her] life is important enough”, that she’s “being a good steward” and “using her gifts” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 64-5). I hadn’t thought of that, but I see her point. My bullet journal is a record, an accounting if you will, of my time. I flipped through it before starting this post, and I don’t love what I see.

So my challenge for the week is to keep an account of my minutes and see how I’m using my time. I’ll post the results next week.

There’s been a lot written about goals. We all know we’re supposed to set them, and they should be SMART. And then we’re supposed to work toward them.

Ortlund doesn’t write much about the actual setting of goals; her focus is more on how goals give purpose and meaning to one’s life.

First, a dream or goal makes each woman unique. No two of us have the exact same dream. This is the foundation of what she calls “life-planning”, and a goal helps one stay on course and say no to distractions.

Second, a life goal gives one an identity. I’ve been thinking about this one for several days now, and I’m only beginning to appreciate the profundity of it. I had never considered how central my goals are to my sense of self and how I understand who I am and who I’m meant to be. Each of my goals says something about me and what I value. Now I have to consider that, and I will be with each new goal I set. I want my goals to reflect what I truly value, not what others value or judge important. This might be the best hidden gem of the book.

Third, there are two ‘types’ of goals: “life purposes (what I hope to be)” and “life goals (what I hope to do)” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 55). Personally, I love this distinction. Anyway. Her first two goals, basically her purpose and mission statements (to use university-speak for a moment) are not SMART. That is, they are not exactly measurable, but they aren’t meant to be. Her remaining six goals are (mostly) measurable. They are an interesting mix of personal (seeing her children settled) and professional (three books, five successful songs). I love that two are ambitious for herself. I could have done without the satisfying her husband goal, but that’s me.

That’s the big picture. She writes, however, that it’s not enough. These big goals go on page one of your notebook. Page two is for the current year’s goals. These are the shorter-term goals that (should) be stepping stones in completing the big life-goals. Hers are arranged according to the three priorities (Chapter 2). Each goal is broken down into steps, and we’ve all read enough posts on that.

The goal (forgive me, gentle reader, but I could not resist), of all this is to help you “control your days, instead of letting them control you” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 60). I’m all for that, and the next chapter presumably will tell me how to do it.

We come at last, gentle reader, to the chapter I have been dreading. Are you ready? I’m not, but here we go.

Let’s start with the good stuff.

Ortlund knows what works for her, her style, her colors, her wardrobe needs, and she sticks to it. Her wardrobe is also limited and pieces coordinate–basically, a capsule wardrobe before that become popular. (I know, I know, the term actually dates to the mid 1970s). She has two guiding principles for her closet: “eliminate and concentrate” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 49). She also makes sure the ensemble is complete down to the last detail (jewelry, underwear, accessories), and then “jot[s] that complete outfit in [her] notebook: everything is listed to complete the ensemble” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 49). I can admire that even as I think, wow, that’s hardcore. I also admire how much of her clothing she passes on to others. I can and should do more of that. I also like the idea that one’s wardrobe should fit one’s life (she uses “ministry”), and I think of how my wardrobe has changed to reflect the seasons of my life and the work I do.

She also doesn’t spend that much time on her appearance on a daily basis–just over an hour to exercise, hair, make-up, clothes. That’s pretty reasonable. Why that specific amount of time? Well, 1 verse out of the 22 that describe the Proverbs 31 woman explicitly mention her appearance; ergo, Ortlund gives 1/22 of her time to it, or about 4.5% of a 24 hour day. If we count exercise in there, I suppose I spend about an hour on my looks, too. If not, I spend a lot less than an hour. I don’t wear make-up, and my hair takes 10 seconds to twist up and secure with a hair-stick or comb.

The time spent, though, is neither here nor there. She’s not recommending anyone spend a specific amount of time on their looks. The problem for me with this chapter is in the underlying assumptions.

Assumption 1: Ortlund starts with the idea that no one should see her without her makeup–just her husband who loves her very much. According to her, she has no eyes without eyeshadow. And she waits to talk to God until she’s put her face on. While I like to get ready for the day right away, too, I don’t think I need to put on my face to meet God. Presumably, God knows what I look like at my worst, so if seeing me in labor didn’t phase God, lack of eyeshadow won’t be an issue.

Assumption 2: All women everywhere long to be pretty and are interested in beauty and pampering. Apparently, we’re all envious of Esther’s year of beauty and spa treatments “to sweep King Ahasuerus off his feet” (Ortlund, Discplines of the Beautiful Woman, 45). No, not so much. I have nothing against a facial or a massage, but a year of them? More importantly, the story of Esther is not a romance (see an earlier post on One Night with the King and how it romanticizes the story). Also apparent in this chapter? We are supposed to value and be valued for beauty. Get the lotion on those elbows and heels; don’t forget the anti-wrinkle cream and sun-faders; make sure your thighs, hips, and tummy are toned; and get a good haircut. Ostensibly, this is all in God’s service, but I can’t help but notice that all of these things reflect society’s ideas about beauty.

Assumption 3: She’s not beautiful. This is A) not true. I Googled, and the images I saw show a lovely woman. And B) infuriating. It makes me angry that Ortlund and every other woman out there has felt judged (wanting) by society’s ideas of what constitutes beauty and that we are not supposed to know/say we are beautiful. If we do, well then, we know what we are.

Ortlund gives some good advice in this chapter, but underneath all of it is this assumption that we need to work to be beautiful. That we are not beautiful without the exercise, creams, make-up and clothes. She writes that without that 1/22 of the day spent on her looks, she’d “get seedy fast” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 47). Seedy? Look up the synonyms. It’s not pretty. It saddens and irritates me that she describes herself this way rather than as beautiful.

I know that I’m beautiful. I’ve even committed that most dread of sins–I’ve said it in public. In front of other women. In my memory, I professed it boldly. In reality, I said it softly, cringing a bit as I confessed. The thing is, I felt bold and revolutionary in that moment. And it was amazing.

I have now spent more than 1/22 of my day on this post, so…onward to goals.

First off, let me say that Ortlund’s work ethic would do the Puritan’s proud and the sheer amount of work she did in a day makes me tired just thinking about it. Case in point: In the six months following her hysterectomy, she spoke at 9 conferences, taught classes, wrote hymns, wrote parts of this book, counseled people…in addition to housework, mom-work, travel and spending time with her spouse.

As I write this, I’m sitting between two mountains of unfolded laundry, my to-be-ironed and mended pile reaches ever higher, and my email in-box…well, you know. I think I spoke to my husband about something not kid or work related today. Maybe. I’m looking forward to the chapters on scheduling and organizing, because clearly she knows something I don’t–I have color-coded to-do lists, and I still don’t get all the work done.

Work itself isn’t the focus of the chapter, but rather attitudes toward it. Ortlund starts off with biblical references to work and the high value placed on it. She writes, “The point is to see that work is God’s plan for you” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 39). Given this, work should not exhaust someone emotionally or spiritually (physical fatigue is okay), and if it does…check the three priorities from the previous chapter. If those are in order, then consider: “You may be in the wrong job” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 39).

It’s a simple enough statement, but it strikes me as profoundly wise. It’s a recognition, which she makes clear, that circumstances change. People grow. What once was a good fit, may no longer be.

And here, gentle reader, is an unexpected gem: “The source of your money is never your job” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 40). She connects this to the idea that God will provide, but also with faith and doing God’s will without reference to supply (time, energy, money, etc.). Okay. Sure. But what if God doesn’t? I know many people, devout and hard-working, who are struggling with supply.

And speaking of exhaustion, here’s my biggest problem with this chapter. Ortlund writes: “Never do we see in the Bible the notion of ‘Now, be careful; don’t overdo; take it easy'” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 37). Really? I seem to recall a rather specific statement or two about taking a break from work. The concept even has a name: Sabbath.

Now we’re talking. I love to make lists and put little symbols next to the priorities. I have different symbols to indicate priority levels. Before you know it, I’ve spent all my time ‘prioritizing’ my to-do list over any of the items actually on it. Does anyone else find that happening, or is it just me? I really do make a lovely to-do list. Anyway.

I clearly have an expansive definition of ‘priority,’ and I’m self-aware enough to know it. I know I need fewer priorities, but three? That’s it? I am very skeptical, but onward.

Priority 1: God. This is no surprise, considering the author’s background, intended audience, and the purpose of the book. She writes we need to know God, not just have a passing acquaintance with God. Okay. Never fear, gentle reader, Ortlund has provided a guide. 1) practice God’s presence; 2) alone-time with God; 3) extended time with God; 4) regular worship attendance. There’s not much explanation beyond ‘Jesus did’. I am very impressed, however, that she did her alone-time with God at 2AM when she had three kids under three. My spirit quails at the thought.

Priority 2: commitment to the body, as in Body of Christ, specifically your home congregation. Here, she argues that there is a line of thinking that pits the (nuclear) family and the church against each other. Basically, doing things for/at church takes time away from the family, so not doing those things is good for the family. Hmm…okay. I’m not sure all the people not at church are at “home with [their] families in front of the television with [their] feet up and munch[ing] corn chips” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 30).

Then she quotes a passage from an 18th-century sermon on brotherly love. Well, sort of. She quotes her husband’s paraphrase, which is “not in 1750 Philadelphia talk which we wouldn’t understand too well” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 31). Being an historian, I looked up the original (available through the Evans Early American Imprint Collection). I had no trouble, but then again, historian. As a medieval historian, I’m thinking: what? It’s in print. It’s in modern English. I can also understand Jane Austen (yes, I know, she wrote after 1750 by a few decades) and Samuel Richardson. Moving on before I get really worked up.

Priority 3: caring for the needy in the world, lest we become “introverted and provincial” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 33). Amen. I wish she had spent more time here–the anecdote was nice, but there’s so much that could be said about this idea. Her description of how the three priorities build on each and flow is depressing because it is short, shallow and superficial. This deserved so much more than a handful of sentences. There is meat there, and I feel like I’ve only tasted the sauce before the plate was taken away. It aggravates me for a number of reasons, not least of which is that I feel she’s short-changing herself here. Why didn’t she go deeper and really explore this instead of burying it under a bouncy tone amid anecdotes?

I’ll leave you with this unexpected gem: “If I’m guided in my ‘to do’ list by these three priorities, then the important takes precedence over the urgent” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 35).

Today, gentle reader, we delve into concepts of hell, salvation, and the disciplines that will lead to Christian maturity. Ready?

Let’s start with hell, which she describes as going over Niagara Falls. Frankly, I’m underwhelmed. Going over the falls would be bad, although Annie Edson Taylor did so in 1901 and survived. Maybe it was the barrel. Anyway. As a historian I’m hard to impress when it comes to describing hell. It’s hard to beat Dante for creativity, medieval art for vivid depictions (wide open jaws swallowing people whole is a very common motif), and Jonathan Edwards for terrifying imagery. “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” left quite an impression–a fiery abyss beneath a covering of rotted wood that could give way at any time–and there were spiders. I definitely remember the spiders. All this to say, the Niagara Falls comparison doesn’t work for me.

The first decision, then, is choosing to get out of the river, a.k.a., faith.

And then it gets interesting because she doesn’t stop there. The ‘what follows’ is clearly important to her. She talks about ‘cream puff religion’–basically, the idea that the initial decision is enough and now everything will be great without any further action. Her message is very much ‘no pain, no gain.’ You’re out of the river and on the bank, so get walking.

The destination is Christian maturity, and it is reached through endurance and discipline. She describes it thusly: “over hills, through thorns, through rivers up to our lipstick (I would never wear lipstick hiking), over cliffs…” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 19). This is an unexpected gem, this reminder that it’s not a stroll across a manicured lawn but a trek. And I am right there with her…until “if we’re willing to do this we won’t end up exhausted old frumps in muddy hiking boots…we’ll grow into God’s beautiful women. We’ll arrive at the City with better posture, and looking zingier and lovelier, than when we began.” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 20).

Seriously. Frumps. What does this even mean? Any idea on how many websites there are that are targeting moms and giving tips to ‘fight the frump’? A depressingly large number. With three young children and a full-time job, I’m lucky I get to shower some days. This message doesn’t help. Can’t we just own the ‘frump’ at this time in our lives?

The thing is, I was with Ortlund, and I actually think the idea is great–that the journey is long and strenuous but not exhausting, draining or defeating. But why did this concept have to be connected to physical appearance? Don’t we deal with that enough? I remember this growing up, the tension between ‘God doesn’t care what you look like on the outside’ and the pressure–from multiple sources–to look a certain way, to look beautiful for one’s husband. Meh. (I’m also not sure I agree with her use of commas in that last sentence.)

Don’t get me wrong. I care about my posture (required when you’re under 5 feet tall). Good posture requires work and discipline–that word she’s so fond of–but so do mercy, charity, justice, joy, peace, patience, kindness and self-control. Let’s talk about those disciplines.