Bad Girls of the Bible Part 4

Submit yourselves, then, to G.o.d. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. James 4:7 Know G.o.d's Word so you won't be fooled.

When the serpents in our lives say, "Did G.o.d really say...?" let's be the first on our block to declare, "No, G.o.d did not!" Because Eve didn't remember the words of G.o.d's one commandment accurately, she left herself wide open for temptation to rush in. Studying, even memorizing, verses from the Bible gives us the strength to say no because we know.

I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. Psalm 119:11 Watch out for the Big Three.

Women are physical, emotional, and spiritual in nature, and all three areas have their weak spots. In Eve's case, the serpent sank his fangs into all three, by appealing to her physical appet.i.te for food, her emotional appreciation of beauty, and her spiritual desire to be like G.o.d. Satan uses exactly the same tactics today. He's not creative in the least, just persistent. By identifying our weaknesses in all three areas, then arming ourselves with biblical defense methods, we can keep from experiencing our own daily (hourly!) reenactment of the Fall.

For everything in the world-the cravings of sinful man, the l.u.s.t of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does-comes not from the Father but from the world. 1 John 2:16 Let's avoid the blame game.

As one of six kids, I remember shouting at a very young age, "Not me! Not me!" s.h.i.+fting blame is practically an American pastime. So whom shall we blame for our proclivity to sin? Our mothers? Our grandmothers? Wanna go all the way back to Eve? Or take a page from Adam's diary and blame G.o.d-"It's your fault, Lord. You made me this way!" No. G.o.d gave us his Spirit to empower us, his Word to strengthen us, and his Son to catch us when we fall. We have no one to blame but ourselves when we choose to sin. And no one to thank but our Creator when he chooses to save us from our sins...again.

Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to G.o.d-through Jesus Christ our Lord! Romans 7:24-25

Good Girl Thoughts Worth Considering.

1. Eve's first two mistakes involved getting into a discussion with the serpent about what G.o.d had and had not said. Have you ever walked into that kind of trap, either in your own heart or face to face with someone who doubted G.o.d's Word? Did it have the outcome you hoped for? What did you learn from the experience? What might you do next time?

2. Her next two mistakes weren't oral but visual: She was looking in the wrong place. Her eyes were on herself instead of G.o.d, and she wanted her eyes to be opened. Have you ever gone exploring with your eyes wide open and discovered more than you bargained for? What leads us into the temptation to look in the wrong places? What practical methods could we use to keep our eyes on G.o.d?

3. Eve wanted to be like G.o.d, knowing good and evil. "I can do it myself" and "I know best" often spill out of our minds if not our mouths. Find three verses in Scripture that emphasize why being like G.o.d is impossible and wanting to be so is sinful.

4. Eve couldn't stop looking at the tree or listening to her growling stomach or marveling at how pretty the fruit was or thinking how helpful it would be to have more knowledge. Our craving for more is manifested in every area of our lives. What do you want more of right now physically? Emotionally? Spiritually? Do any of those desires dovetail with the Word and will of G.o.d? If not, how can you adjust them to be Christ-centered rather than me-centered?

5. At the very point Eve could have stopped herself, she didn't. Been there? How do you feel when you don't stop? How do you feel when you do manage to control that urge to sin? What have you learned from those encounters? Eve did eat the fruit. What might you have said to her just before the first bite? What about after that fatal bite? When she offered Adam a taste, she sinned again. What thought processes do we need to go through to stop such a cycle of sin in our own lives and the tragedy of encouraging others to sin with us?

6. Eve's big cover-up came next. Hiding behind skimpy leaves, then hiding behind trees. Can you think of a time you physically tried to cover up the evidence of sin? Was it effective? Why or why not? Is covering up as "serious" a sin as the initial act of disobedience? Why or why not?

7. Her final mistake was one we all make: putting the blame on someone else. "The snake tricked me" was her ploy. Who or what do you tend to blame first when you sin: a friend? Your parents? Your husband or children? Your job situation? Your finances? The Adversary? The Lord? How can we stop playing the blame game? What's the biblical model for handling sin in our lives, step by step? Can you come up with a handy reminder for those important steps?

8. What's the most important lesson you learned from the story of this mother of all Bad Girls, Eve?

2.

BORED TO.

DISTRACTION.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,

Nor h.e.l.l a fury like a woman scorned.

WILLIAM CONGREVE.

Mitzi leaned across the breakfast table toward her husband, making sure she was offering him an eyeful. "So...may I serve you something else before you head to the office?"

Apparently his eyes were too full of the morning news to notice.

"Speaking of the office, honey, you're gonna love the new guy." Christopher rustled the front pages of the Indianapolis Star with authority, not even glancing up to check if she was listening. "Hired him last month, and already I can see potential. Joe's a real go-getter but solid, too. The kind of man you can trust with the company bankbook." Chris lowered the paper long enough to give her a meaningful wink. "And everything else."

Buster, if you only knew. But he didn't know, couldn't imagine how lonely her days were, waiting for him to get home from work and give her the attention she deserved.

She rose from the soft tapestry cus.h.i.+ons of one of her brand-new dining room chairs, an expensive addition to a house already crammed with pricey furniture from the best stores on Allisonville Road. They'd lived in Indianapolis for a dozen years, but no matter how much she decorated the place, it still didn't feel like home.

"Home is where your husband is," her mother-in-law had chided her more than once.

"Then tell him to stay home!" she'd snapped back.

Mitzi poured Chris a fresh cup of his favorite custom-blended coffee, then another for herself, enjoying the rich aroma and smiling to herself. Delicious, yes, but not nearly as appealing as the musky aftershave Joe had been wearing at the company picnic last weekend.

Did Christopher think she was blind? That she didn't see the handsome young guy with his lean muscles and big, brown eyes? Fat chance I'd miss a hunk like that.

She had eyed him at a distance, found an excuse to stand near him, then pretended not to notice him. Noticing me. Must have been the jumpsuit cut to there that caught his eye, precisely as she'd planned.

Oh, she'd heard the rumors. That he was a real do-gooder. Lived a squeaky-clean lifestyle. Was religious to a fault.

Perfect. She needed a challenge. Christopher was too easy to fool, too trusting. The man left her alone with no one to keep her company but a housekeeper, a gardener, and the UPS guy daily bringing her another box of flimsy lingerie ordered from one of her stacks of catalogs.

Not that Christopher ever paid any attention to what she wore. The dinner menu-now that garnered his interest. He pored over back issues of Gourmet and Bon Appet.i.t as if they were Holy Writ. She, however, ate as little as possible. How else was she going to maintain her twentysomething figure with midlife knocking at her door?

She needed Joe knocking at her door. That would put a little pep in her step, a little glide in her stride. Mitzi knew exactly how to make that dream come true too.

Her voice dripped like honey. "Will you be home in time for dinner, Christopher?"

"Not tonight, sweetheart." Snapping the paper shut and tossing it aside, he stretched to his feet. "Meetings with the CEO all day. I'm his right-hand man, remember? Gotta be there to keep things on track. We're sponsoring a racecar in the 500 this May, which means a longer-than-usual meeting right through lunch, right through dinner."

The Indy 500. Fast cars. Faster men. A s.h.i.+ver of delight tingled up her spine.

He shrugged into his suit coat. "I hate those catered boardroom meals. Taste like cardboard." He tweaked her nose. "Not like the feasts my wife arranges for me. Rack of lamb. Lobster bisque. Blackened trout." He groaned with pleasure. "Makes my mouth water just to think about it."

Mitzi forced a smile to her lips. If only you knew how hungry I am, husband of mine. "So," she sighed. "When should I expect you?"

He twirled the keys to his Porsche around his finger. "Probably won't get home until ten at the earliest. Why? Miss me already?"

Oh, I'll miss you, all right. Joe will come and go before you ever darken this door. "Not to worry. I'll be fine."

He bent down to press his lips lightly on her forehead. Not even a kiss on the mouth! Who could blame her for looking elsewhere for love and affection? She was a pa.s.sionate woman. She deserved a lover who was her equal. Joe was apparently gung-ho about experiencing joy in the spirit. Wait until he gets a taste of joy in the fles.h.!.+ Mitzi casually waved at Christopher's car backing down the drive as she composed a mental list of the tasks required for the hours ahead.

She made a few phone calls. Told the gardener to take the day off. Ditto with the housekeeper. Hung a note from the front doork.n.o.b asking UPS to leave any packages on the porch. No doorbells ringing, please. She might be napping.

Correction. She might be in bed if all went as planned.

And not alone.

Mitzi felt her palms sweating as she punched in the numbers for her husband's company. Not his private line. The switchboard. She inched her voice up a few notes and slipped in a southern drawl just to be safe. "Joe in Property Management, please." She didn't know his last name. For that matter, he didn't know her first name. Better that way.

When he came on the line, Mitzi dropped her voice back down to its usual husky pitch. "Joe? This is Christopher's wife." She could almost hear his ears perk up, his voice take on a tone of respect. "That's right," she purred. "We saw each other at the picnic. So glad to have you as part of our...family." She swallowed, stealing a quick glance at herself in the mirror to bolster her resolve. "I need a favor, if you don't mind. Chris has already driven off and won't be back until late tonight. Unfortunately he left behind his file on the racecar sponsors.h.i.+p, along with his cell phone, so I can't reach him. If he doesn't have this file for the meeting at ten...ah, I knew you'd understand."

She listened to his warm, confident voice, feeling a flush begin at her toes and move slowly toward her hairline. Yes, he a.s.sured her, he'd be happy to come over. Might she give him directions? Oh, might she! He'd be there in thirty minutes, since the traffic on Route 465 was bound to be heavy. Would that be soon enough? Hurry, Joe, hurry!

Moments later, she slipped into a steaming hot tub, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with fragrant bubbles. "Calvin Klein, take me away!" Her throaty laugh echoed around the tiled room. No, not Calvin. Joseph. Yes, she liked that. His given name. His biblical name, Mitzi realized with a sly grin.

Toweling off, she slathered her skin with a liberal dollop of lotion, heavy with the scent of Obsession, then flung open her closet doors. The scarlet gown, of course. Fit her like a silk glove. Left almost nothing to the imagination. Paired with a sheer, gauzy robe with a single clasp. Red slippers with little heels that made her legs look their shapeliest. Obsession sprayed everywhere.

She bent her head to brush her hair in long strokes from the nape of her neck to the tawny gold ends, then tossed it over her shoulders, enjoying the feel of it tickling her nearly bare back.

A brisk knock at the door sent her heart knocking in its cage.

Joseph!

She practically skipped down the stairs, then paused on the marble landing to catch her breath. Not so eager, she chided herself.

a.s.suming an air of youthful innocence, she pulled open the heavy oak door and let a look of surprise dance across her face. "Joe, you must be a man on a mission. I bet you made it out to my corner of the world in twenty minutes, tops."

The handsome, dark-haired man looked shocked, then s.h.i.+fted his gaze to the planters on either side of the entrance. She took in his freshly shaven cheeks, now pink with embarra.s.sment. His eyes, fringed with long, dark lashes, paused at half-mast while he tried hard to look anywhere but at her.

Mitzi stretched out her hand to catch his, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Silly man! Have you never seen a woman in her pajamas? You merely got here too fast for me to change, that's all. The phone rang, and well...you know." How easily lies slipped from her well-oiled lips. "Come in, come in. Let me see if I can find that pesky file folder for you."

Clearly reluctant, he followed her in, pulling his hand out of hers as quickly as he could. "I'll wait here while you look." His voice sounded pinched; his expression was one of pure agony.

Closing the door behind them, she toyed with locking it, then thought better of it. Too calculated. She pretended to search for the imaginary folder, displaying her best a.s.sets as she knelt and stretched around every shelf and table in the foyer and hall.

Hmm. This might be harder than she'd thought. He looked so nervous! She offered him coffee, but he shook his head. "A bagel perhaps?" No, he didn't want that. Couldn't eat a thing, he insisted. "At least let me take your coat," she murmured, slipping it off his shoulders before he could protest, letting her hands brush against his s.h.i.+rt long enough to feel the tension in his muscles.

Subtlety was getting her nowhere, she decided. They were both adults. Why be coy? She fixed her eyes on his with a brazen boldness. "Joseph, do you know why I invited you here this morning?"

"It's becoming clearer by the moment, ma'am." His voice was steady, firm. So were the lines of his mouth.

"Good." She nodded, relieved. "Then we don't need to play games, do we? I want you, Joe. It's as simple as that."

He cleared his throat and took a step backward, pressing his broad shoulders against the ma.s.sive front door. "Not simple at all. You're Christopher's wife. He gave me this job, promoted me to manager. He trusts me with...he trusts me with everything."

She watched him gulp and wipe his hands along the sides of his suit pants. At least I'm making him sweat. It gave her a perverse pleasure to see how she affected him.

Laughter spilled from her lips. "Come to bed with me, Joe. Believe me, Chris not only won't know, he wouldn't care." Not entirely true, but Joe obviously needs convincing.

He groped for the k.n.o.b behind him, then yanked the door open with surprising force. "You don't understand! It isn't only Christopher I'm worried about. This...this is a sin. A sin against the Lord. The Lord I love with all my heart."

"The Lord!" she sputtered. "What has G.o.d got to do with this?"

A grim smile moved across his face. "Everything."

Joe bolted down the stone path and into the company van before she could stop him, then started the engine with a grinding roar. The white vehicle careened down the driveway and backed onto the street, lurching forward with a squeal of tires.

"Well!" She slammed the door in disgust. Now what? Bad enough that she'd been made to feel foolish. Dirty even, blast his altar-boy heart. The morning had been a waste of perfectly good perfume.

Then it dawned on her. What if he told Christopher? Or blabbed to his coworkers and one of them told Christopher? No, no, that can't happen! It'd ruin everything.

As she looked down, a wave of relief washed over her. His jacket! He'd left behind his jacket. Perfect. All the proof she'd need to show Chris what had really happened. Joe had shown up out of nowhere. Caught her half-dressed. Forced his way into the house. Yes! Forced himself on her, but she'd refused, started screaming, and he took off in the van. Yes!

His word against hers. And which one of them would her husband believe?

His wife, of course.

Even as she hit the redial b.u.t.ton, Mitzi could feel the sweet taste of revenge rising in her throat. You'll pay, Joe. You'll pay. And more than a t.i.the of your income, you holier-than-thou jerk!

Now it was time for serious damage control. When she heard the receptionist's voice on the line, Mitzi snapped on a teary sob the way most women flick on a light switch. "Uh, B-Betty? Is that you? Oh, I'm...I'm so...scared! Is Christopher there? Please. Tell him I need to talk to him. Yes, yes, interrupt the meeting. Right away! The most unbelievable thing has happened..."

A Bad Girl in Pharaoh's Court: Potiphar's Wife.

Now Joseph had been taken down to Egypt. Potiphar, an Egyptian who was one of Pharaoh's officials, the captain of the guard, bought him from the Ishmaelites who had taken him there.... Joseph found favor in his eyes and became his attendant. Potiphar put him in charge of his household, and he entrusted to his care everything he owned. Genesis 39:1,4 The bored wife. The hired man.

It happened some thirty-five centuries ago, and still the story has the power to take our breath away at the audacity of a woman who thought she could ignore her marriage vows and graze in greener pastures.

She was known simply as Potiphar's wife.

The woman didn't even have a name. One of the major hussies of the Bible, and she didn't possess a simple moniker to call her own.

"The wife of." Period.

We can imagine her propped up against a stone pillar at one of Pharaoh's lavish feasts, adorned in her best plaited wig, drenched in her costliest perfume-the ancient equivalent of Obsession, no doubt-when a woman of higher station strolled by in her spun-gold sandals and pointed a ruby-ringed finger in her direction.

"Hmm. Potiphar's wife, isn't it?"