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| taken by Beth Herrington Kruprzak |
As I watch the daily news and scroll through social media, I
am struck by how quickly we decide which lives are worth honoring and which
stories deserve to be celebrated. Headlines elevate certain individuals as
heroes, while comment sections fill with praise, outrage, and carefully curated
memories. In these moments of cultural upheaval, I find myself asking a
necessary question: By what standard are we measuring a life well lived?
Our culture has no shortage of voices willing to define
virtue, identity, and legacy. Social media investment often glorifies
visibility over faithfulness, defiance over obedience, and self-expression over
responsibility. A life is remembered not by the fruit it produced, but by the
attention it commanded.
Yet as believers, we are called to a different standard.
Scripture reminds us that God does not measure as the world
measures. He looks not at what is celebrated publicly, but at what is
cultivated faithfully. The Bible offers us examples—not of perfect people—but
of lives aligned with God’s design, lives that strengthened families, served
communities, and quietly reflected His character.
One such life is that of Dorcas, also known as Tabitha.
When we ask where our standards come from, Scripture does
not leave us without an answer. Rather than pointing us to public recognition
or cultural approval, God directs our attention to lives marked by
faithfulness, obedience, and service—often unseen by the world but deeply known
by Him.
One such life is found in Acts 9:36–42, in the account of a
woman named Dorcas, also called Tabitha. Her story does not begin with
controversy or public acclaim, but with a simple description: “This woman
was full of good works and charitable deeds which she did.” In a time and
culture where women were rarely elevated, God ensured her life was recorded—not
because she demanded to be seen, but because her faith was evident in how she
lived.
Dorcas provides us with a biblical lens through which to
examine both our own lives and the lives our culture so quickly chooses to
celebrate.
Though her name does not appear in 1 Timothy 5, her life
beautifully embodies the kind of woman the apostle Paul later describes: a
woman known for good works, compassion, faithfulness, and devotion to others.
Dorcas lived during a time when women held limited social
power, yet her influence was unmistakable. She was not remembered for her
opinions, activism, or resistance to authority, but for the garments she made
and the lives she touched. Her faith was lived out quietly, consistently, and
sacrificially.
When she died, the widows gathered around Peter, not with
arguments or demands, but with evidence—a testimony of love stitched into
fabric. God responded by restoring her life, affirming the value of a woman who
lived within His design and for His glory.
In 1 Timothy 5:9–10, Paul outlines the qualities of a godly
woman worthy of honor:
Well reported of for good works; if she has brought up
children, if she has lodged strangers, if she has washed the saints’ feet, if
she has relieved the afflicted, if she has diligently followed every good work.
Dorcas exemplified these qualities. She understood her place
within her community—not as someone seeking control or recognition, but as a
servant whose life reflected obedience to God. Her identity was not
self-defined but God-given. She embraced responsibility rather than resisting
it, and her community was strengthened because of it.
In contrast, our modern culture increasingly encourages
women to redefine themselves apart from God’s Word. Identity is often rooted in
personal desire, sexual orientation, or self-expression rather than in
submission to God’s design. When this happens, the natural roles God
established—family, community, and lawful authority—are frequently viewed as
obstacles rather than blessings.
Scripture teaches that God is a God of order, not confusion
(1 Corinthians 14:33). When a woman misunderstands her place within community,
she may trade service for strife, responsibility for rebellion, and obedience
for self-rule. Instead of using appropriate, lawful avenues to express
dissatisfaction, there can be a temptation to take matters into one’s own
hands—leading to division, recklessness, and harm to both self and others.
Romans 13 reminds us that governing authorities are
established by God for protection, not oppression. When authority is rejected
outright, the result is rarely justice—it is disorder.
Perhaps the greatest cost of abandoning God’s design is
borne by children. When a mother no longer models biblical standards, her
children lose the opportunity to witness faith lived out in trust, humility,
and obedience. Instead of seeing God at work through patience and perseverance,
they are exposed to unrest and instability.
Dorcas left behind a legacy that caused her community to
grieve and God to be glorified. A life lived outside of God’s design leaves
confusion instead of clarity, brokenness instead of peace, and questions
instead of faith for the next generation.
The life of Dorcas reminds us that God honors obedience,
even when the world does not. A woman who embraces God’s design—who serves her
family, strengthens her community, and submits her identity to Christ—becomes a
living testimony of the gospel.
In a culture that celebrates rebellion and self-definition,
Dorcas stands as a quiet but powerful example. Her life calls us back to the
truth that identity is not something we create for ourselves, but something we
receive from God.
As the world continues to argue over whose life should be
honored and whose story should be amplified, believers must return to the
unchanging standard of God’s Word. Scripture does not measure a life by
visibility, defiance, or self-defined identity, but by faithfulness, obedience,
and the fruit left behind in others.
Dorcas reminds us that a life surrendered to God may never
trend on social media, yet it echoes into eternity. Her legacy was not built on
protest or personal assertion, but on quiet obedience and love rightly ordered
under God’s design. In a culture eager to redefine worth, may we resist the
pull of popular opinion and instead ask the harder, holier question: Does
this life reflect the character and design of God?
That is the standard worth returning to—and the one by which
every life will ultimately be remembered.
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