I am convinced that Jesus liked a “nervy” woman.  Scriptures repeatedly give us examples of women who broke human tradition to lay hold of eternal life.  In 1546 Anne Askewe was martryed in England for refusing to recant her faith.  If you are interested, you can read more about her here.  Anne was sentenced to the “rack” where she was brutally tortured.  Every limb in her body was so mangled and disjointed that she was brought to the stake in a chair because she could not walk.  When given one last opportunity to recant and receive a final pardon Anne responded by saying, “I would rather die than break my faith.”  

The following is a ballad composed and sung by Anne Askew in Newgate Prison:

Like as the armed knight,

Appointed to the field,

With this world will I fight,

And Christshall be my shield.

Faith is that weapon strong,

Which will not fail at need:

My foes, therefore, among

Therewith will I proceed.

As it is had in strength

And force of Christe’s way,

It will prevail at length,

Though all the devils say nay.

Faith in the fathers old

Obtained righteousness;

Which make me very bold

To fear no world’s distress.

I now rejoice in heart,

And hope bid me do so;

For Christ will take my part,

And ease me of my woe.

Thou say’st, Lord, whoso knock,

To them wilt thou attend:

Undo therefore the lock,

And thy strong power send.

More enemies now I have

Than hairs upon my head:

Let them not me deprave,

But fight thou in my stead.

On thee my care I cast,

For all their cruel spite:

I set not by their haste;

For thou art my delight.

I am not she that list

My anchor to let fall

For every drizzling mist,

My ship substantial.

Not oft use I to write,

In prose, nor yet in rhyme;

Yet will I shew one sight

That I saw in my time.

I saw a royal throne,

Where justice should have sit,

But in her stead was one

Of moody, cruel wit.

Absorbed was righteousness,

As of the raging flood:

Satan, in his excess,

Sucked up the guiltless blood.

Then thought I, Jesus Lord,

When thou shall judge us all,

Hard is it to record

On these men what will fall.

Yet, Lord, I thee desire,

For that they do to me,

Let them not taste the hire

Of their iniquity.

From  “Select Works of John Bale” (1849 Edition).