Submission is Not a Four Letter Word

Photo by FotoDawg

Sit back while I tell you the story of how I learned that submitting to my husband is a good thing. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve never really had anything against submission in theory. But every once in a while that strong will of mine gets in the way, and I convince myself that I know better than God or my husband. And it never works out well for me.

The year was 1995. Jim and I had been married for 5 months when we moved 100 miles up the road for Jim’s new job. We didn’t really know anyone in our new community, save for Jim’s boss and his family, whom we’d only met a couple of weeks before.

As we unpacked our stuff the first Saturday in our new apartment, we began to discuss where we would go to church the next day. Before I go on, I’ll give you a little background on my husband and me.

I grew up in a very conservative church. Wear your Sunday best, sing hymns every Sunday, and never raise your hands in worship.

Jim grew up in an Assembly of God church. Demonstrative worship was the norm, and speaking in tongues was expected. In college, he went to a Calvary Chapel church where *gasp* the pastors never even attended seminary. The particular church he went to was HUGE. I’d gone with him a few times, and I always felt so small in that huge crowd.

When we got married, we settled on a little Baptist church (where we attend now, as a matter of fact). Before we got married we used to joke that it was a good thing we never planned on moving out of the area, because finding a church we agreed on would be difficult, given our backgrounds. And then Jim got the job 100 miles up the road, and switching churches was a reality.

Back to that Saturday in 1995. Jim casually mentioned that he thought we should go to the Calvary Chapel church in our new town. I calmly told my new husband that I thought we should go to the Baptist church in town.

Jim ran down the list of reasons he thought we should go to the Calvary Chapel church. It’s where his boss went, and his family was the only family we knew. He’d heard good things about this church from his friends back home. It was just one Sunday. We should just try it out.

For reasons I can’t remember, I dug in my heels and insisted that I did NOT want to go to that church. I had visions of the HUGE church Jim used to attend, and I was afraid that Jim would fall in love with the Calvary Chapel church, and I’d never fit in.

After a long and sad to say, ugly argument, Jim sat me down, looked into my eyes, and lovingly asked, “Do you really think I’d insist that we attend a church you’re not comfortable with? Let’s just go this one time and see. If you don’t like it, we won’t go back.”

Then he asked me to make a list of all the things I wanted to find in a church. This was my list:

• Friendly people
• An accessible pastor
• I wanted to sing a hymn every once in a while
• The pastor had to have a teaching style I could follow easily (I’m easily distracted)
• I wanted to be able to plug in and get involved…specifically I wanted to see Jim be able to use his gift of guitar playing.

I realized I probably wouldn’t find everything I was looking for, but I sure wanted to try. I hesitantly agreed to try the Calvary Chapel church the next morning.

Sunday morning we left for church early, in case we got lost. We arrived 15 minutes before church started, and the foyer was pretty empty. A man walked up to us and said, “Hi! I’m Pastor Phil. Glad to meet you!” Accessible Pastor. Check.

After talking with the pastor for a bit, we made our way into the sanctuary. We settled down into the pew and worship began. About three songs into worship, the worship leader began a rousing version of “He Lives”. Jim looked at me and smiled. Singing a hymn every once in a while. Check.

When the singing was over, the pastor instructed us to say hi to the people around us. The couple in front of us turned around and introduced themselves. It turned out that the man, whose name was Curt, worked in sales for a competing radio station to the one my husband worked at. They joked about that for a while. Curt mentioned that my husband had a great singing voice and discovered Jim played the guitar. Before we sat down for the teaching, plans were made to get together with this couple. (we’re still good friends with them to this day). Friendly people. Check.

The pastor opened his Bible and began to teach. I was mesmerized. His message was straight out of the Bible. To this day, I still remember that he taught on 1 Corinthians 5 that day. When the message was over, I wanted more. A teaching style I could follow. Check.

As we left church that day, I realized that every item on my list was present in that one service, except for being able to get involved, and who gets involved in their first week at a new church? I sheepishly apologized to my husband for my bad behavior the day before, and asked if we could continue going to that church the next week. Jim agreed, and for the seven years that we lived in that town, we never went to a service at another church.

That day God showed me that I can trust Him. That it’s OK for my husband to be the leader of our home. That it’s OK for me to submit to my husband, and by doing that, submitting to God.

One further note. The Thursday after that church service, we attended a Western Pie Social that the church was having. While we were there, we ran into Curt. Curt mentioned that he’d love to sing some worship music, and that he had his guitar, but didn’t know how to play very well yet. The next thing you know, Jim was playing Curt’s guitar, and we were standing in a crowd of people, just praising the Lord together.

As the pie social wound down, Curt mentioned that he was the youth pastor, and the high school group could really use a worship leader. Were we interested in helping out?

One week later Jim and I were leading worship for the high school youth group. We were plugged in and involved. Check.

Every item in our checklist was covered within a week. Is that God speaking, or what?

That church was our church home for 7 years. Our church family rejoiced with us when our daughter was born. They mourned with us when we lost a baby to miscarriage after trying so hard for a second child. There are days when I still miss them greatly, even though it’s been 5 years since we moved back home.

God worked mightily in my life through that church. I don’t think I’ve ever grown so fast in my faith. He knew what I needed and used my husband to guide me in the right direction. When I find myself disagreeing strongly with Jim on something, I think back to that fight we had on that Saturday. And I pray that God would help me to remember that Jim is the head of our home, and my job is to submit to his decisions. Not that we can’t discuss, and not that Jim doesn’t take my opinion into consideration….but in the end if we can’t agree, my job is to submit and trust God. And I’m OK with that now.