Sitting in on Carolyn McCulley's session, my heart was wrenched as she spoke on women's global issues. She explained that more women have been killed across the world for simply being women, than were killed in all the genocides of the 20th century. She tied together the principles of Biblical womanhood with social justice, but with the Gospel as the uniting bond. It made sense.

As Carolyn said, "The Gospel fundamentally changes all the rules--it's not longer about you." When it's no longer about us, our hearts are freed to serve others in dynamic ways. We have God-given resources at our disposal; we're called to defend others as an extension of God's heart for the oppressed. After all, how can we uphold Biblical womanhood and "Christ-centeredness" if we are unwilling to act on behalf of the most needy? In that double standard, I have seen my own hypocrisy.

That's kind of how I see my love, too. Hypocritical, undetermined, proud. There's the ideal of what love should be like, and then there's the mini version that I pull off.

I don't think I'm unique this way; lack of love seems to be one of the chief grievances people have against the Church. More often do we see churches building bigger parking lots than combating homelessness. In the face of sin, I'm quick to give up and become cynical. "God, Your people...we're a mess. We can't do anything right."

And yet, as I overheard women praying together outside of the conference session rooms this weekend, and watched as an older woman mentored a friend, I've seen God's hands touching people. In the midst of my own conviction, in the midst of indwelling sin, God is still conquering. He's still teaching through the speakers; He's still serving through the volunteers at the Prayer Room and book tables; He's still pushing wheelchairs down the hall.