A Certain Woman: Accepting Your Call and Meeting the Conditions

By R.S. Gunn

Women of God are searching for direction and advice. Now they can meet that need and go beyond, discovering a clear mission statement to turn to in their lives.

A Certain Woman presents a work of inspirational narrative nonfiction featuring unnamed or little recognized women in the Bible and pulling from the defining moments of author R. S. Gunn’s real life. It shows that God uses all His children for His glory, from Mary, the virgin mother of Jesus, to Rahab, Jesus’s great-grandmother several generations removed, who spent her younger years as a prostitute. These stories grant women power and offer a glimpse into the day that these biblical women received their call and answered accordingly. On the modern side, lessons and life experiences include military service, serious health issues, miscarriage, marriage, divorce, children, career shifts, unemployment, physical manifestations of stress, alcohol abuse, and idolatry as Gunn fought with God, pleaded with Him, and ultimately answered His call and met the conditions He required.

This collection of personal and biblically inspired narratives offers a message of strength and power for women of God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664200326

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN

Standing on the front porch of my parents’ house in rural West Virginia, I looked at the woods that surrounded me. It was a sight I was very familiar with—a beautiful summer day. Every tree was heavy with thick green leaves waving in the light breeze that swept through the hollow. Tiger lilies were in full bloom, lining the one-lane road at the bottom of the hillside. They had always been my favorite. The sun was high and warm. There were no neighbors to contend with and no traffic beyond an occasional truck passing by—the drivers always throwing their hands up in a wave that was customary and even expected of country folk.

Country. I laughed at the thought as it passed through my head. That’s what they called me in the service, Country. I threw my hand up in response to the Chevy that drove down the road as I leaned on the banister, staring deeper into the trees. I could hear my children playing inside, their laughter confirming I had made the right choice by moving back home. I looked around at the familiar surroundings: the large deck I had watched my parents build and helped my mother paint; the flowerbed that had stolen so many hours of my mom’s life; an old tree stump, the last sign of the pine tree my brother and I used to climb; and a rope swing still dangling from a branch I used to think was so high but now could probably reach if I jumped from the big rock. Not to ruin it for you, but it isn’t that big anymore.

I stood there, looking at the remnants of my wonderful childhood, and it took me a moment to realize I was crying. I came home looking for a way to give my children the best shot I could at having a normal childhood after my first husband and I decided to divorce. However, I realized in that moment that what I was really looking for was that happiness I felt growing up—a way to move backward from, even forget, the years of my adult life I spent away from this peace. I was raised by beautiful people in a magical place, and I can’t be more grateful for the childhood I had. However, standing on the porch, staring at the trees, I knew I couldn’t have it back. It was the first time the phrase you can’t go home again made any sense to me. I was home, and my home was the same, but I wasn’t. The life I led when I left home at eighteen had changed me.

I stood on that porch silently weeping, grieving for something I didn’t even know I had lost. I suppose it’s natural to wish for simpler times, if you have known them. I tried to forget the things that had come to define me, grasping pointlessly for a piece of the innocence I had lost. To hope, even for a moment, that I could find the old me inside those woods. I didn’t know it at the time, but that moment, that defining thought, You can’t go home again, was going to be a reference point I would use for the next decade while I coped with all the changes, good and bad, I faced.

I sit here now, typing away, mentally trying to prepare myself for the story I am about to tell, and I can’t help but remember that feeling. I remember what it was like being a child on that road. I remember, with a smile, the feeling of the blacktop on my bare feet as I hopped from shadow to shadow all the way to my grandparents’ house, nearly a mile away. I remember picking wildflowers for my mother. I remember my dad letting me put my barrettes in his hair while we watched the new episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I remember my sister sliding me her bracelet pen. That’s right, it was a bracelet that pulled apart and became a pen that was oddly shaped and difficult to write with. It was easily the coolest thing that existed in 1991, and when I was too sick on my fifth birthday to have any kind of a party, she sat down beside me and slid the bracelet onto my tiny little wrist. I remember my older brother always running ahead of me when we were told to go to bed so he could hide in the dark and start growling before I could catch up. I always knew it was him, but it scared me nonetheless. Even that horrifying memory makes me smile, because it was all a part of the most amazing childhood a kid could have.

I have come a long way since that day. I am not the same woman who stood on that porch, grieving innocence lost, and I am a far cry from the twelve-year-old girl who watched the porch being built. I am so much more. I have lived, loved, lost, and laughed; I have a lifetime’s worth of memories since that day. I have made horrible mistakes and great decisions. I have learned. I have grown. And by the grace of God, I have evolved. I have heard it said that every version of our past selves still exists somewhere in someone else’s memory. That’s a horrifying thought. So, for anyone who knew me from eighteen to thirty, I apologize. I am nowhere near perfect, but I am a lot better. And for the first time in my adult life, sober. I will talk more about that later.

One of the main things that has changed since that day of mourning is that I came to grips with the person I am, as being the person I am supposed to be right now. In Genesis, there is a story of a man named Joseph. In case you have never read it, I will summarize. He is the second youngest son of Jacob, he has a lot of older brothers, he is his dad’s favorite, and his older brothers kind of hate him. They end up selling him into slavery and pretending he’s dead. Fast-forward in the story, Joseph suffers a lot, but he is awesome at everything he does, everyone who meets him loves him, and he ends up being second in command to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Years pass, there is a famine, and his big brothers show up in Egypt trying to find food. He has the perfect shot at retaliation, but instead of being cruel, he ultimately reveals who he is. They panic. They think they’re about to die. Then Joseph says the single most profound thing in that story. He basically says, Hey, guys, don’t flatter yourselves. You didn’t send me here. God brought me here. And now I am going to save your butts like I just saved all these millions of other people.

I love that. Too often when things have happened in my life, I have reverted to blaming the thing that sent me there, without ever considering the possibility that God brought me to that place at that time to serve His purpose. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Like I said earlier, I have learned a lot, and I am still growing. In this book, I am going to share some of the things I have experienced that have made me the woman I am today. And the woman I am is extremely certain. Also, spoiler alert on the Joseph story, he never got to go home again either.

Let’s jump into the nitty-gritty of this book’s theme: a certain woman.

There are different ways to take that phrase. The word certain has three main definitions that I can find:

1. Adjective; something you know for sure, established without doubt. I am certain the sun is very hot.

2. Adjective; something specific but not named. There are certain issues within the leadership of the company.

3. Pronoun (my personal favorite); some but not all. Certain of the people have been called to act.

When I read this phrase in the Bible, and it shows up several times, I used to always default to the second definition. A certain woman in this case is just another nameless lady whose story, no matter how important or trivial in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t need a name. Her existence is established but undifferentiated. I wrote off these certain women as inconsequential side characters.

Sometimes I’m dumb.

A few months ago, my studies kept bringing me back to this phrase and these women. I started looking closer into their stories, into the situations they found themselves in and the ways they handled those situations.

It was like a quick hit to my stomach as it all came to me at once. These women, these nameless heroines, had changed the course of history with one swift and calculated action. They were not just certain in that they were unnamed; they were the certain (definition three) women God called from among the masses. When they answered that call, they were certain (definition one), beyond any shadow of a doubt, what they were supposed to do. Even if history failed to record it, they were certain of their names, and when God called them, they answered.

When I was growing up, my mom would often say, When you leave this house, you represent this family. Years later, I worked with a fantastic woman who would always try to build me up when I was headed for a stressful meeting by saying, You go in there, you stand in front of those people, and you remember what your name is. Both of these amazing women had an awesome influence on my life, and they were both telling me the same thing. I am more than the situation; there is power in my name. There is strength in the certainty of what I represent.

The more I studied these women in the Bible, the more in awe I found myself. They fulfilled prophecies, toppled kingdoms, mothered nations, and claimed healings. More than what they did is how they did it—with certainty. In such uncertain times as we live in today, there is an important lesson we can learn from these women and their enduring legacy. Whatever God calls you to do, there will be no confusion. He operates in certainty and if He has called you to join in the prestigious ranks of His certain women, I can assure you that it’s time to act, and act with certainty. God knows your name, even if historians never write it down.

If you look at some of the most important and influential stories throughout the Bible, you will find a common theme—sojourning. It seems, in my limited studies, that once God put a plan into action in someone’s life, that was it. It was time to travel. New lands, new people, new horizons, and they never went home again. I can’t think of a single story that ends along the lines of And once Sheila had done everything God asked of her, she went back to Tuscaloosa, sat down on the rocking chair she was sitting in when God called her, and everything was as it once had been. Selah.

*Side note: When making up fake Bible quotes, always end with Selah. It gives it a more genuine feel.

No, that story isn’t in there. That isn’t how this works. If Sheila were one of my biblical heroines, the story would probably go more along the lines of this: And once Sheila had done everything God asked of her, she saw that there was even more to do, so she traveled constantly, helping the needy, healing the sick, kissing the babies, and building houses for hurricane victims until the day God called her home … Selah.

Once you leave home, whether you are headed to Haiti to dig wells, get your first apartment off campus, or enlist in the navy and head off to fight a war on the other side of the world, you aren’t coming back. Even if you physically return to your home and revisit your roots, the you who left exists only in memory. And by the way, good riddance, because the new you is smarter, stronger, braver, and much more interesting than the you that left. You have overcome obstacles, climbed mountains, and fought bears (probably metaphorically, but if not, that’s amazing, and I want to know more!), and you came out the other side a much better version of yourself. Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.

Before I jump into the stories of the women who have inspired this book, I want to talk about one more man, Peter. The grumpy disciple. Dude had major anger issues, but Jesus loved him for who he was and used him for His purpose. I would like to talk for just a moment about the story in Matthew, chapter 14. If you are familiar with the passage, this is where Jesus walks on the water. I’ll circle back around to the storms we face in life a few times throughout the book, so I want to start it all off by giving some reassurances.

In the story, Jesus has been performing miracles and healing the masses. He had just fed the five thousand. (It’s worth noting that the passage says that this is just the number of men; there were also women and children. I feel like this miracle deserves a bigger name.) It had been a very long day.

Then He directed the disciples to get into the boat and go before Him to the other side, while He sent away the crowds. And after He had dismissed the multitudes, He went up into the hills by Himself to pray. When it was evening, He was still there alone. But the boat was by this time out on the sea, many furlongs [a furlong is one eighth of a mile] distant from the land, beaten and tossed by the waves, for the wind was against them. (Matthew 14:22–24 AMP)

Hours later, it was the middle of the night, and a storm came upon sea. The boat, however big or small it was, was being tossed around with the crashing waves and the raging wind. It was a sailor’s nightmare. I have been on seas like this. It’s awful. Peter and the rest of the disciples were fighting to keep the boat afloat when someone saw a figure coming toward them, walking on the water.

Thinking it was a ghost, everyone panicked. The Bible says that these men screamed out in fright. I can just imagine Jesus laughing to Himself at their reaction. But instead of mocking them, as I would be inclined to do, He went a classier route.

But instantly He spoke to them, saying, Take courage! I AM! Stop being afraid! (Matthew 14:27 AMP)

Everyone calms down slightly, and Peter steps forward and tells Jesus that if it’s really Him, to command him to come to Jesus on the water.

He said, Come! So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water, and he came toward Jesus. (Matthew 14:29 AMP)

Peter was very caught up in the moment, as anyone would be. He quickly climbed over the side, and when his feet hit the water, it felt as solid as stone. He didn’t hesitate. His eyes were fixed on Jesus. With the power of God washing over him and the Son of God standing in front of him, Peter walked on the water and into the storm. It was exhilarating! His heart was racing, his adrenaline was pumping, and he was walking in faith. Until he wasn’t.

As long as he was looking at Jesus, he knew he was okay. He knew he was safe. But as he drew farther from the boat, farther from the safety of what was familiar (as a fisherman, he knew boats; boats were home), his faith began to waver, and then he made a nearly fatal mistake: he took his eyes off Jesus. He felt the full force of the wind, and what was left of his faith was destroyed by his own fear.

Suddenly the water was liquid again, and he was going down. He cried out to Jesus.

Lord, save me!

Jesus did. He was right there. He simply reached out and grabbed Peter before he was lost and led him back to the boat. The wind stopped. The storm ended. They made their way back to dry land.

I think it’s fascinating that Jesus didn’t just stop the storm when He saw it was there. When He set foot on the water to walk out to the boat, the storm was raging. He knew exactly what His men were struggling with, and instead of stopping it, He turned it into a teachable moment. He walked into the storm. When Peter saw Him, he knew he could do it too. If the seas had been calm and the wind no more than a light breeze, when Peter drew farther from the boat, there wouldn’t have been anything to be afraid of; if he fell, he could just swim back. Peter needed the storm to learn the lesson.

As Christians, we have all been in this place before. Beckoned by Jesus, we walk in faith into the unknown, and then, within arm’s reach of our prize, the winds of doubt hit us, and we start to sink. When this happened to Peter, he did the right thing. We need to make sure we follow his example.

This wasn’t the first storm Peter had faced with Jesus. This wasn’t the first storm Jesus had calmed. This wasn’t His first miracle. Peter knew Jesus. Peter had been hanging out and witnessing miracle after miracle for a long time. Peter knew who this man was, yet standing in His presence, fear still managed to get the better of him. Fear is the opposite of faith, and without faith, Peter found himself drowning, as we all do.

Luckily, Peter was smart enough to recognize the dangerous situation he was in and acted accordingly; he called out to Jesus for help, and he accepted the help when it came. That’s a very important lesson to learn.

CHAPTER 2

AN ISSUE OF BLOOD

How much faith do you have? That can be a very easy question to answer if you don’t actually think about it. We all like to imagine we have the kind of faith that moves mountains (all that’s required is a mustard-seed-size portion). Maybe you