April, 2006
Sometimes, God just confuses me. How on earth can we wrap our finite minds around the seeming duplicity of such concepts as predestination and free will, fully God and fully man; perfectly just and completely merciful. And furthermore, it’s one thing when God himself is embodying such things, but then He calls us to follow suit. I’d scream that it isn’t fair, but I’m afraid I’d sound like my kids.
We are called to be both servants and leaders as well as to act justly and love mercy. Well maybe somebody else out there has these down, but frankly it’s got me a little frustrated. Even Paul, the “SuperApostle”, admitted to a bit of schizophrenia in some areas (…that which I want to do, I don’t and that which I know I shouldn’t is the very thing I want to do…”). I’m really good at the justice thing. I am much faster to question behavior and motives, to tighten the clamp, and to place fines on forgotten chores and revoke privileges. And Mike’s great at the mercy thing. He loves to give the benefit of doubt, is quick to kiss the boo-boo, and is first in line to dispense undeserved rewards. (Which leads me to another question: Why is mercy a spiritual gift, but not justice???) From the response I got from last month’s Nazi Mom/Daddy Claus comment, I’d say that this holds true for many households. Yet females are supposedly the ones who are the gentler, more kind-hearted, and, yes, more merciful of the two genders. And this struggle works itself into another two areas I am attempting to master - the ones I named this newsletter after.
“I’m not trying to take over, Mike. What we do next is your decision. You are the leader and I will support you. You are the general. Think of me as…as… your scout! I’ll run on ahead, check out the paths, figure out the many options and possible problems that each option might pose. Then I’ll come back, inform you of them, and if you want it, I’ll give you my recommendation. But I’ll not choose. That’s your job.”
“But I don’t want you running on ahead,” was his reply.
Sigh. That simple comment last week is as close as my kind husband will come to saying “Knock it off, Fathead. You’re doing it again.” It’s an on-going battle, this one of submission. Two steps forward, one back. I have come a long way in my understanding of submission. Really. You should have seen where I started.
Through the 70’s I grooved to “bringing home the bacon, frying it up in a pan and never, never letting him forget he’s a man” and was molded by a culture that said submission was unfair and a throwback to the middle ages. For church-goers who also longed to be seen as sophisticated in the eyes of the world, the concept of submission was embarrassing. These spiritual sophisticates would smirk knowingly, with a look of “when you really come to understand, you’ll see it our way and agree”. With every “new interpretation” of this Scripture (other than the obvious literal one), I took the bait and ran with it. I had come a long way, Baby.
And so I entered married life: full of ideas, full of bad theology, and full of myself. I was going to be sophisticated. I knew I was a leader by nature and led whenever and however I could. And leadership and submission were mutually exclusive, weren’t they? When Mike led, if it were contrary to what I wanted, I pouted, whined and manipulated until he’d give in to my wishes. Then as he’d “lead” down my pre-ordained path, I’d be in submission. Everything that went well was because it was my idea; everything that failed was because someone else was leading. Combining my pushy personality with my significantly lacking gift of mercy made me ruthless. In the space of about seven years, I nearly destroyed our marriage.
But God (Ah! How I’ve come to love that little interruption in Scripture) but God, in His mercy, stepped in and lovingly hit me broadside with a two-by-four. I committed to Him, in one particular hour of my desperation, that whatever He taught me I would wholeheartedly accept and do. It began with a regimented process of renewing my mind, taking every (yes, every) thought captive and submitting it to examination under Scripture. I learned about a gentle and quiet spirit – not exactly my forte, as mentioned earlier – but one where, the more I learned about God and His character, the easier it got. I also kept returning to the issue of headship and submission. Is this really what you expect in a marriage, God? I heard infinite sermons that dealt with the fact that submission didn’t mean a lessening of worth, but it was tough to embrace that concept. How can I be valuable to you, God, if I’m not doing measurably valuable things?
Slowly, I began to see changes in our marriage. When I finally stopped pushing my way to the front, Mike was freed up to lead in his own way. I found a new respect for my husband’s wisdom and was grateful for his gentleness. (Funny, isn’t it, how even when it is difficult to dispense mercy, it’s always easy to receive it?)
I also learned that there was an area of family life where God was allowing me to lead. It was in the management of the home. In the Greek, 1 Timothy 5:14 says that I am to be the despot of the home, and just to be sure I was on the right track, I checked out the definition. Webster’s says a despot is a RULER with ABSOLUTE POWER and AUTHORITY, and one who exercises such power TYRANNICALLY. Now this was something I could handle.
As I said, it’s been in the juxtaposition of submission and despotism that I’ve had my most interesting internal battles. How does one crucify self and yet rule tyrannically? You’d better pray for me. ‘Cause I’m known for running on ahead and right now I need to hit the brakes.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy
No comments:
Post a Comment