Why is it that our society finds it hilarious to make sexist jokes about women staying in the kitchen? Do guys really, truly think that? Unfortunately, I think some do. While I think others just haven't thought much past the funny comment. But they should. They should know what they're telling the world through the jokes they make.

Jokes are commentaries on what you believe. And this is what these are interpreted as:
Women find their purpose in cooking
Women are inferior to men
Women are functional, not lovable
Marriage provides men with a slave
Men are incapable of cooking/cleaning

I hope the guys reading this were not snickering and nodding their heads. Instead I hope they realize that 1. that's how many women interpret and analyze those jokes. And 2. those statements are all wrong.

If you disagree with me that's okay, just tell me you can look at your Creator and tell Him that He needs to rewrite the Scriptures cause they’re giving the wrong message. Remind Him that women are merely functional creatures. So although we too were made in His image, it doesn't matter...we only reflect God's useful character. And don't forget to let Him know that He should probably work on His creativity because if all women are meant to live in the kitchen, He sure as heck ain't making every snowflake different, unique, and special.

By disliking these jokes I assure you I am not intending to be a feminist in any way. I have absolutely no problem with women who enjoy living in the kitchen. I do however have a problem with the jokes that make it so no woman is different from another, they all have the same purpose, and that purpose is to serve men. I might be wrong but I'm pretty sure that's how the white men saw the black men during the years of slavery. They just happen to be more violent.

Also, I’ve found that men (wait let me correct that; guys) hide behind the feminist accusation so they don’t have to listen to a woman’s outcry about these jokes. But that's no excuse. So if disagree so much that you must call me names as if we're in middle school again, please call me an idealist.

My primary defense against these jokes is not equality, rather it is sanctity. God made women special, just as God made men special. But God also made marriage special. Very, very special. Marriage is a much more precious thing than those jokes degrade it to.

If you disagree with me that's fine. I'm just telling you what I see and hear when those jokes are made. Whether it's a girl or a guy making the joke.

The day it all began was a cloudy one. It wasn’t the perfect day, but it was still beautiful out. The tree I was leaning on had a branch overhanging me creating even more shade. Goosebumps formed mountains on my skin as I shivered with the cold breeze. I closed my eyes to appreciate it and all of a sudden the breeze turned into a gust of wind.

Slowly, droplets of moisture appeared on my skin but they were too cold to be sweat. In a little bit of time their speed picked up along with the wind and I could feel these droplets were rain swirling in the wind as they now whipped at my face.

I opened my eyes, scared to see what had happened to the cloudy day I was sitting in. It was hard to tell when my eyes had opened for the darkness was that of the back of my eyelids. The only difference was the coolness of the air and precipitation that my eyes were so sensitive to. Somehow I ended up with my back to the ground. I’m not sure how. It appears the tree uprooted and ran away, leaving me without support or the shelter of its branch.

I stood up and started running. I didn’t know what from, and I didn’t know where to. Just, anywhere. I had to do something, even if it wasn't productive. It had to be better than sitting in the storm.

After a short while of running, I stopped to catch my breath. I looked around me and…paused. Why was I running in the storm? I had nowhere to run to. I had nowhere to hide. If I’m going to endure the storm I might as well enjoy it.

With that I began running again. But this time there was a bounce in my run. There was a leap. A twist. …A dance! As I landed from some leaps in the air my feet came down with a splash. The puddles were deep and full of water. So now not only was I dancing in the storm, I intentionally landed in puddles so I could make the biggest splash possible.

The fun had just begun. I could care less that I was drenched and covered in muddy water. The rain from the sky helped clean me from most of the dirt, so I had little to worry about even if I wanted to. It was great! The storm may have caught me off guard, but boy did it turn into one of the best adventures of my life!

As the storm passed the dancing slowed to a halt, and the puddle jumping lost it’s luster. I sat down on a rock beside a rushing stream now overflowing with water. I looked down at my feet and although the rain washed away most all of the dirt from the adventure, it left my feet covered in mud.

Sticking my feet in the stream would have done no good, as the water was brown and far from clear. So instead I stared at my feet, wondering what to do. After minutes of starring I saw a few chunks of mud that seemed to create an image like that of connect-the-dots. And being the artist that I am, I decided to play around with the dirt. I swirled my finger around in dashes and dabs to form designs. After finishing one foot, I moved onto the next. And after finishing that foot I looked back at the other only to see the mud had dried up.

Days had passed by as I admired the beautiful drawn designs covering my skin. And one day the Servant of the land approached me and offered to wash me clean from the storm. Just before an excited ‘yes’ escaped my tongue, I remembered my feet. My mouth stopped mid motion as I realized becoming clean would wipe away the designs on my feet.

I knew the offer was too great to turn down. He could cleanse me far better than I could, and I knew I was still filthy from the puddle jumping. I love that squeaky clean feeling! But…my designs. It's not that I wanted the mud to stay. I didn't. Mud is filthy. It needs to be washed away to become clean. But the designs I made, they were made with mud. If the mud went away, so would the designs. But those designs...they were so original that trying to reproduce them would be impossible.

I already knew that the offer of becoming clean was an all or nothing. I cannot have Him cleanse part of me without cleaning all of me. So I am left with a decision: Sacrifice my designs to become squeaky clean, or sacrifice my cleanliness to keep my designs?

What about you? Which one have you chosen?

Proverbs 30:12

There are those who are clean in their own eyes but are not washed of their filth.

John 13:5

Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.