After You (thoughts on mutual submission)
I understand that this post probably won’t win me too many fans. That’s ok. I’m not trying to make people happy; I’m trying to encourage thought and conversation. With this in mind, let me tell you about last week. Actually, let me give you a little background first and then we’ll get into last week.
If you didn’t know this already, my husband and I are in the process of developing what we hope to be our life’s work. You know, no big deal. We’re starting a nonprofit called Sycamore Abbey, and our desire is to help bring ministry leaders back to life and equip them to encourage vitality where they lead. I won’t get into the details of it, but if you want to learn more about what we envision, you can read about it on our website.
Stepping into something so weighty and undeniably difficult, something that will shape people and marriages and ministries and legacies (or so we pray), has brought its share of crazy into our family of 4. With any start up, there’s the tsunami of detail in the beginning, all the stuff that makes us want to scoop our eyeballs out with spoons. An overwhelming amount of discipline and planning is necessary for success, and although we are willing, the tsunami keeps throwing us into new, violently churning waters.
This overwhelming sensation is especially true of Jonathan. He has been pretty vocal over on the Sycamore Abbey blog about his ongoing and active liberation from lies he has believed about his identity. Moving into something new and not in his category labeled “strengths” -like managing the details of starting a nonprofit- has churned up lots of these lies. It’s a journey, one he’ll be on for a lifetime, just like all of us on our journeys of sanctification. The amusing thing to me in all of it is that identity has truly never been one of my demons. I have plenty of them, believe me, but I have always had a strong sense of who I am…
… and even this isn’t good enough. God can’t leave well enough alone.
Because Jonathan and I are one, I am in the throes of identity crisis with him, trying to feel what he feels and understand what isn’t logical to me. And I find this amusing, the idea that God isn’t satisfied with good. He wants completion; He wants great. So He starts rattling foundations every once in a while just to make sure there’s nothing that needs reinforcement.
This is where we are; we’re having some reinforcement done.
So, about last week.
I think it was Tuesday. Jonathan came home and was sharing with me about his workday, how scattered and unproductive he’d felt. I listened with my usual lack of empathy (I am not gifted with empathy. I have many other gifts, but empathizing isn’t one of them.) and bit my tongue until I thought I might draw blood to restrain myself from telling him how simple it is to organize thoughts and get stuff done. Instead, I mustered up a spare ounce of mercy from somewhere in a reserve tank and told him I was sorry that he felt he hadn’t accomplished what he wanted to that day. And it’s a good thing I was able to shut up, because he started sharing with me about how incapable he felt to do what God has clearly placed before us to do, that he wants to do the work but feels inadequate.
That’s when I said something before I even really thought about it:
“I’m trying to stop myself from telling you that I’ll just take care of it just because I can, just because I’m good at it. I feel like you’re supposed to… and I’m supposed to learn how to let you.”
And just like that, I came face-to-face with mutual submission.
Sidebar: I wholeheartedly believe that marriage is a union that helps us understand the fullness of Christ’s love for his Church, and I believe it’s one of the most beautiful and maturing relationships on earth. The ways that God reveals himself to us are as varied as the personalities that reflect Him, so don’t hear what I’m about to say as my prescription for all marriages everywhere, forever amen. This is for Jonathan & Candi. This is our expression.
Here’s why I don’t believe I’ll win points today: I think God wants me to stay home and school my boys, to stay at home and be a part-time housewife, while my husband goes out to lead the development of our nonprofit, even though:
- I am better qualified for the job.
- I have more experience.
- I have more influence.
- I am naturally gifted for the tasks at hand.
- I can get it done more efficiently and with less stress.
And while we’re at it, in truth, Jonathan is a FAR better teacher than I. He is much more of a nurturer and would rule the home school, stay-at-home dad thing exponentially better than I ever could.
But neither of us feel as though we’re supposed to “play to our strengths” in this scenario. We both feel the tug of mutual submission, and we lay aside our strengths for the growth of the other.
Just because I am better at something than someone else doesn’t mean I should do it instead. When I champion growth in others, I grow too.
Every time I don’t jump in to clean up Jonathan’s mess of disorganization, something in him shifts ever so slightly. Some little piece of the reinforcement is taking place. When he keeps quiet as I struggle for patience in teaching Elias, I learn more about the power of a gentle spirit.
We submit to each other, not in our strengths but our weaknesses, reinforcement of our foundation happening with every “after you.”
Too many times I fear we move past the beauty of growth when we do only what we’re good at in marriage. Now, this isn’t applicable in all of life’s scenarios. Don’t try to tell your boss that you are going to quit your job to become a famous guitar player when you’ve never even seen a guitar. But marriage isn’t your job. It’s your work, for sure, but it’s not about performing well. It’s about looking more like Jesus, which is altogether foreign and uncomfortable, so why don't we just embrace the weakness and dive in?
Jonathan and I are parenting together, and we are starting a nonprofit together. If it were the work of two ships passing in the night, there would be no need for mutual submission. It would be a lot of self with no accountability. No, this is together. We are one. We are accountable to each other. We are accountable to God.
So we’re practicing the art of growth through weakness. We are practicing putting the good of the other before the giftings of self.
Every moment is a practice in “after you…”