“…Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord, and you have become her children if you do what is right without being frightened by any fear.”
-1 Peter 3.6
If you are a typical modern woman you likely choked on the first half of this verse, making it nearly impossible for your eyes to remain fixed long enough to make any sense of the second. The very idea of obeying one’s husband not only jolts the mind, it turns the stomach. We begin to feel lightheaded and queasy, certain somehow that Scripture cannot actually mean what it seems to be saying. To submit is one thing. In his epistle to the Ephesians Paul instructs both wives and husbands to “submit to each other in the Lord.” But, we say, trying to calm ourselves, obey? Isn’t that what children do to parents? Or, still worse, slaves to masters? But wives to husbands? The mere suggestion is offensive to most women. It is what our society calls: backward, misogynistic, and – perhaps not least -- utterly ridiculous.
Our eyes fly to the nearest photograph of our dearly beloved – on the face of our flip-phone or the screen of our office computer. Suddenly his imperfections are thrown into high relief: the slightly crooked teeth, the goofy grin, the asymmetrical tilt of the head. ‘What,’ we think, ‘Obey, him?’ We feel an ambivalent mixture of discomfort, even perhaps latent fury, as we attempt to conjure up some wild scenario in which we might, in all seriousness, garner the courage to call him “lord.”
I say ‘courage’ because that is exactly what is required if we are to submit to the leadership of any man who, by nature of the fact that he is human, is thereby fallible.
If all men are fallible, why does God call us to submit to them? On one level, the answer is rhetorical: we submit because He says so. Everything hinges on the authority and reliability of the One who speaks.
Either God is trustworthy or He is not… If He is not trustworthy, then we can justly say, “To hell with your standards.” But if He is trustworthy, and still we insist on having our own way, then – to put it in the most terrifyingly obvious terms – we put ourselves in danger of hearing Him say, “To Hell with you.” I mean no disrespect; surely, God is not as flippant as the preceding phrase makes Him out to be. On the contrary: God is Love. He is Love’s perfect embodiment. Being such, He demands – for our own good and His glory – that we be conformed to His image, the image of the One who “humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2.8). If He truly has our best interests at heart, then we can – along with Sarah – find the courage to do that which we have no desire or inclination to do. We can submit to our husbands “in the Lord” or “as unto the Lord,” believing that God is big enough to lead us through them.
But still, you say, it can’t be stomached.
Let us, for a moment, examine the issue in more neutral terms. God asks us to do X, insisting that X is the very best thing for us. X is instituted – not to constrain and belittle – but to protect in the same way that a hat and sunglasses, combined with a thick slather of sunscreen, protect the desert dweller from the sun’s rays. Conversely, not to do X is to place our souls in the gravest jeopardy. Sounds simple, right? In the abstract, it is. The problem arises when we define X. True, God knowingly asks us to do the very thing which comes least naturally to us. But if it came naturally it would not be a command. God does not command us to eat when we are hungry or call a friend when in need of a good chat for the simple reason that these things are both natural and pleasurable. If He knew how hard it would be, He must be after something larger and more important than we can imagine. He is, I believe, after our hearts.
Lest we get carried away with false notions about the rotten ‘plight of women,’ let us remember that the call to obedience – to submission – is not exclusive to sex. 1 Peter is oriented toward calling all people to a posture of submission “for the Lord’s sake” (2.13). Citizens are called to submit to governments; servants to masters; young men to their elders; and, yes, wives to husbands. Peter is clear that such submission – and the pattern of suffering and endurance which it begets and inspires – is not merely preferable. His language is starkly authoritative: “For such is the will of God…” (2.15); “For you were called for this purpose that you might inherit a blessing” (2.21).
Christ is, of course, the ultimate example of this kind of obedience. He lived His life in perfect submission to His Father; and although doing so required Him to submit to the earthly authority of depraved men, His death and resurrection prove that God’s purposes are not in the least obstructed by the fallibility of men.
Ultimately, as Pilate and Judas prove, we are His instruments whether we place ourselves under His authority or not.
When the stakes are highest, on whose authority will you stake your future well-being? Yours or God’s?
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