Paul’s words to women feel both tender and weighty: teach what is good, live what is holy.
One phrase especially stopped me—“not slanderers.”
The word we translate as “slanderers” here is actually the same Greek word for “devil” or “satan ”. That means when we speak maliciously, gossip, or tear one another down, it isn’t small talk… it’s aligning our words with the enemy. Literally devilish speech!
That alone is enough to make me pause before I speak.
Paul also calls women to be diligent—workers at home. Not confined, not limited, but purposeful. We see this beautifully in Proverbs 31—a woman who works both inside and outside her home. The heart behind it isn’t restriction, it’s a warning against idleness and a call to live intentionally.
There is something deeply holy about caring for a home, nurturing a family, and creating a place of peace in a chaotic world. Culture may downplay it, but Scripture lifts it up.
And submission? It’s not about inferiority—it’s about humility, order, and reflecting Christ in how we love and serve. It’s strength under control, not weakness.
In a world that celebrates independence at all costs, this kind of life can feel countercultural. But maybe that’s the point.
Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about roles—it’s about representation.
How we speak.
How we love.
How we serve.
How we carry ourselves in the unseen, ordinary moments.
All of it is pointing to something greater.
Lord, help me—and every woman reading this—to be a faithful ambassador of the gospel today. That matters more than anything.
There has always been a cultural narrative telling women who they should be.
In our world today, it often sounds like this: Be louder. Be independent at all costs. Put yourself first. Define your own truth. Don’t let anything—or anyone—limit you.
But this isn’t new.
Long before modern feminism took center stage, there was another movement shaping the identity of women—one that looked strikingly similar.
A Look Back: The “New Roman Woman”
In the days of Paul the Apostle, a cultural shift was taking place across the Roman Empire. Scholars often refer to it as the rise of the “new Roman woman.”
Wealthy women were gaining social and financial independence. With that freedom, many began to step outside the traditional structure of family life—not simply to contribute, but often to abandon it altogether. Some pursued multiple sexual relationships. Others avoided marriage entirely. Still others sought influence in public spaces while neglecting the responsibilities within their own homes.
This movement grew so prominent that Augustus himself enacted laws to try to slow the moral and familial decline. Birth rates were falling. Marriages were weakening. The foundation of the family was beginning to crack.
Sound familiar?
Paul’s Response: A Different Kind of Freedom
When Paul wrote to Titus, he wasn’t giving random instructions—he was offering a God-centered response to a culture in confusion.
In his Epistle to Titus, particularly in chapter 2, Paul outlines a vision for women that stands in stark contrast to both the ancient Roman movement and much of what we see today.
3 Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, 4 and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, 5 to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.
He speaks of women who are:
Reverent in the way they live Self-controlled, Pure, Devoted to their families, Kind and intentional in their influence.
At first glance, this might feel restrictive to some. But when we look deeper, we see something radically different from oppression—we see purpose, dignity, and eternal impact.
Two Voices, Two Visions
The world often defines a woman’s worth by how loudly she asserts herself, how much independence she claims, or how little she needs anyone else.
Biblical womanhood, however, tells a different story.
It says:
-Your strength is not proven in self-promotion, but in self-control. Your value is not found in independence from others, but in faithfulness to God. Your influence is not diminished in the home—it is multiplied there.
-Modern feminism, at its core, often elevates the individual woman above all else—her desires, her ambitions, her autonomy. And while there are elements that rightly acknowledge dignity and value, it can easily drift into a self-centered pursuit where serving others is seen as weakness.
But the Kingdom of God flips that completely.
The Beauty of a Servant’s Heart
Jesus Himself modeled this truth—greatness is found in serving.
A Christian woman who walks in reverence toward God carries a quiet strength the world cannot manufacture. She understands that caring for her family, loving well, living with purity, and walking in obedience is not lesser work—it is holy work.
This kind of life may not always be applauded by culture, but it is deeply honored by God.
And it is powerful.
Throughout Scripture, we see women who embodied this beautifully:
Lydia of Thyatira, whose faith and hospitality helped establish the early church Priscilla, who labored alongside her husband in ministry Phoebe, commended as a servant of the church Junia, recognized among the apostles
These women were not insignificant. They were not silenced. They were faithful—and their faithfulness shaped the Church.
What This Means for Us Today
As women of different ages, backgrounds, and seasons of life, we all feel the pull of culture in one way or another.
Some of us are raising children.
Some are working demanding jobs.
Some are doing both.
Some are in seasons of waiting, healing, or rebuilding.
The call of God is not one-size-fits-all in appearance—but it is unified in heart.
We are called to live in reverence.
To love deeply.
To serve willingly.
To walk in purity and self-control.
To reflect the goodness of God in how we move through the world.
Not because we are less—but because we belong to Him.
A Better Way
The question isn’t whether women have value—we absolutely do. That is not up for debate.
The question is: Where does that value come from?
Is it rooted in self, constantly striving to prove worth?
Or is it anchored in God, already secure, already known, already loved?
The woman who fears the Lord doesn’t need to fight for significance—she lives from it.
And in a world that tells her to grasp, she chooses to give.
In a culture that tells her to elevate herself, she chooses to serve.
In a moment that celebrates self, she reflects Christ.
What’s incredible is how Paul engages the culture around him. He doesn’t ignore it—he understands it. When he calls believers to “love what is good,” he uses the Greek idea philagathon, a term familiar in their world and even used by philosophers like Aristotle to describe the highest moral virtue. Paul meets the Cretan people where they are, acknowledging that even their own thinkers recognized the need for goodness and moral standards—but then he points them to something greater: the only true source of blamelessness, Jesus Christ.
The same is true with self-control. Highly valued in Greek culture, yet ultimately unattainable in its fullness apart from God. As we see in Galatians 5:22–23, true self-control is not something we manufacture—it is fruit produced by the Holy Spirit within us.
To be sensible, righteous, and holy isn’t about perfection. It’s about a consistent outward life that reflects an inward transformation—a heart changed by faith in Jesus.
And this is where the beauty of Good Friday meets us. The call to live differently isn’t rooted in striving—it’s rooted in surrender. Jesus, the only truly blameless One, gave Himself for us so that we could be redeemed, restored, and made new.
This Good Friday, we remember: the gift is already given. Freedom is already offered. All that remains is to repent, believe, and receive the grace that changes everything.
“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord.” — Jeremiah 17:7
Some weeks leave your heart heavier than others.
This week was spent in courtrooms advocating for children—children who have endured horrific abuse and neglect. Children who were left in dangerous circumstances far longer than they ever should have been. Children whose small voices were ignored while the systems meant to protect them moved far too slowly.
And sometimes, painfully, the world seems to turn the story upside down. Adults who caused harm are called victims, while the suffering of the child fades into the background. Justice feels delayed. Accountability feels uncertain. And the weight of it all presses down on the heart.
On days like these, everything can feel upside down. The tears come intermittently. My heart is grieved.
But one thing remains unchanged:
God is still good.
When the brokenness of the world is on full display, I find myself clinging more tightly to the only hope that cannot fail. Thank you, Jesus, for the hope I can have regardless of present circumstances.
For the believer, the word hopeless has no place in our vocabulary. If the Lord is present, hope is present.
Scripture reminds us again and again that hope is not wishful thinking—it is a confident expectation rooted in God Himself.
The Word of God tells us that regardless of how dark or desperate a situation may seem, hope abides (1 Corinthians 13:13). Hope is not extinguished by the darkness of the world.
Our hope is anchored in Jesus Christ (1 Peter 3:15–16), which means it can withstand every accusation, every injustice, every heartbreak we witness.
And perhaps most comforting of all, nothing can separate us from the love of God (Romans 8:38–39). Not the failures of systems. Not the evil done by people. Not the grief we carry after hearing the stories of wounded children.
Nothing.
When the courtroom doors close and the weight of the week lingers, I am reminded that we must learn to look beyond our immediate circumstances—beyond the worry, the injustice, and the despair that so easily grips our hearts.
We look instead toward the light –
That light is the hope God gives in His Word.
It is a hope that does not deny the darkness but outshines it.
And that hope—that confident expectation in the goodness and justice of God—is what carries me.
The Meek Momma 