1 Timothy 2: Thoughts

Discussion tonight, of 1 Timothy 2. And I sincerely doubt there will be much time given to writing this evening, for so many reasons...but the nature of thoughts regarding particular facets of the matter latterly discussed in that chapter..

...have been much on my heart.

Why does it rankle so much, to submit to authority? Because, quite frankly, that's not a matter restricted to women. I've been recently grieved in interactions with a coworker, for his statements of utter defiance against all authority--grieved at what this indicates of the depth of his deception and distance from God, as gladly defiant against Him. So very lost. And glib.

Same as I had been, at various points.

But the notion of women submitting to the God-given authority of men, taken specifically in context of marriage and within the church as being an archetype of the church's submission to Christ--of all our needful submission to God's own authority?

This isn't a small matter. Not to be taken lightly.

And coming from where I've come, by God's grace at work in my life and heart, I've run the gamut of resentments against and rationalizations counter to submission as a woman--particularly as restricts against teaching and being in leadership over men. As such, I'm familiar with many (though surely not all) common "reasons" for the pushback.

For one, I had a personal stake in believing otherwise--to do so undermines the desire to exalt my mother's memory, as beyond at least particular sorts of reproach. She was an ordained lay-minister in the Methodist Church and was given pastorate of three churches. Up until the time of her suicide, in 2007, she pastored these churches. Perhaps 10 years. Begun after my father left her. Or left us, I suppose. Just me and my mom. My sisters were in cahoots with him. My youngest sibling was dragged along with them--we'd just returned home from my high school graduation ceremony. My brother was completely side-lined and so were my mom and I. But my sisters immediately began tossing my brother's clothing in a bag, while my dad outlined to my mom and me the terms of his separation having been completed and the divorce paperwork being processed for delivery at her workplace tomorrow.

After this, or maybe it was in the midst just prior, she pursued ordination.

To consider that we, as women, as called not to preside over men, called not to teach them...pains my recollection of her. I don't want to think of her as being in blatant defiance of the very Word she set out to teach and preach.

And built upon that, upon initially coming to know Christ I also fancied myself destined for being in the spotlight. And I've been tempted many times to exalt myself, quite frankly--again and again, in particular churches, there's always come a point of realizing that if I proceed along a course that is agreeable to those around me...they had begun and would continue esteeming me ever more highly in their ranks. And in particular of these such places, there seemed acceptance of women as preachers and pastors and leaders. Or at least as prophets and apostles.

For a very brief period of time, I wanted to be the next Kathryn Kuhlman, thinking that course and public esteem in the eyes of the world was what God's very will would be for those who love Him and seek Him with utmost diligence. As though, if I served and sought most ardently, then I naturally would end up in a public position of esteem, like many of the preachers I then revered most highly espoused and taught...providing themselves as examples.

But the problem with all that was and is that I did continue to seek Him. And continued to pore over His Word, as Living Water to a thirsty soul. And continued to spend time alone with Him, at length, desiring to know and understand Him. All, by grace. And the more I came to know Him, the more I came to receive light from His Word, the more I realized that all these things are diametrically in opposition to what He actually has said will be the case for those who are His disciples--for those who love Him, who know Him, and who seek to learn from Him, by grace of His Holy Spirit led along the while.

In this world we'll have troubles, He said. Period. But we're to take heart because He's overcome. Period. Not because we'll gain dominion over all the realms of the earth and attain all wealth so as to prepare the way for His return to reigh, no.

But we'll have trouble. But we can rest assured, if we know Him, because He's overcome.

And at that point, there's need to look at what that entailed.

He set aside His glory for a time, to walk amongst us as a servant. God Incarnate--He who deserves all obeisance and praise--walked as one with no place to lay His head, demanding nothing for Himself. But deferring always to the Father. Doing only what was given unto Him by the Father. Walking in complete submission, perfect obedience. Perfected...most exquisitely exemplified...in His suffering the shameful death of the cross. God's wrath poured out on Him--the only one of any of us who could never deserve wrath or punishment, took it all on Himself anyway. Willingly. So that justice could be satisfied where a debt is owed, but being willingly paid by one who did not Himself owe it in order to extend mercy to those who do not deserve it.

He submitted to all that.

Jesus Christ, our God and brother. Redeemer king.

As the point of Jesus's own submission was brought up by one of the church elders tonight, I have indeed grasped a larger picture of this in terms of what it means to be a representative member of His own body who is ordained to present that image to the world. The rightful submission to authority, quietly and graciously, gladly choosing to enter into right relationship with creation's authority structure.

Same as we are all called to submit to God, then as women are called to submit to church leaders and to husbands, we are presenting the world with a portrait image of what it is that all creation does submit to He who spoke it into being. And that the precious bride of Christ--for whom He set aside His own glory, becoming a suffering servant so to save--defers gladly and lovingly to Him, who purchased our love and deliverance with His own lifeblood.

These aren't small matters. That the world would see that there is a goodness in submission? This is a high calling, still, same as is leadership.

And then, there's the matter of what godly leadership is to entail. From what I've been told this evening, the ordained intent for men to care for the earth was one of protection. Not forcible subjugation.

On this front, the desire not to submit arises out of a multifaceted fear. Having long been the recipient of many abuses, I had long believed self-exaltation was an unavoidable necessity in order to preserve my life and make my way in the world. I have had no protector, aside of God. And I did not turn to Him for protection--instead, I spurned and resented His "interference" in my life. Until relatively recently (four and a half years). So I spent the majority of my life in positions of vulnerability and abuse, coping by the means which I considered to be the only viable ones at any given instance--basically, whatever got me through yet did not entail turning to God (except for while falling of the balcony--He stripped away all delusions of being able to help myself, in that instance, and so I did call on Him).

By and large, there seems to be a lot more abuse in the world than protection:
We tend to commoditize one another--people viewed as means to ends rather than as precious image-bearers for whom Christ died, whom He loves, and who need Him desperately.
Self-indulgence, as such, prevents compassion to the extent present--we can't simultaneously be self-consumed and sincerely moved by the plight of another. These are experiences in opposition to one another.

And that point could be belabored for a while, but enough.

The problem is the response to abuse, wherever turning to God for aid and strength and whatever else He, in His wisdom, would grant--at least His peace...wherever that doesn't happen, the turning which occurs as response is thus away from God. In my own experience, the extent of the initial travesty was unto a likewise extent of turning to depravity to compensate...since I didn't turn to God, I turned all the more violently away from Him.

We're designed to act and interact and respond to what we experience, is the thing. Wherever there's an action, there's a reaction--a principle not restricted to physics. So sin unto me affected me and as I didn't turn to the only one who could deal with it, I turned away from Him instead, under force of doing something to deal. I chose the path which required less confrontation with reality, as another way of putting it. Problem is, that made problems so much worse.

Along these same lines, I'm considering that as someone who wasn't and hasn't been protected, long after the initial grief and pain are numbed, I eventually succumbed to the worldly proposition of self-preservation by whatever means necessary. I'm grateful I was preserved, yes, but am grieved to reflect on many of the things I chose instead of God's grace. Each made the pain worse, ultimately, each drove me further from ability to cope with reality on the whole. Each left me just slightly more callous and cold to the actual plight of others. And along the course of the way, self-preservation morphed into self-exaltation more blatantly--seeking esteem, loving the praise of others, wanting to be noticed, and so on.

Coming to Christ, though, one of the hard matters to come to terms with has been the idea that I don't defend myself. Doesn't mean I willfully place myself in dangerous and abusive situations, in order to "die for a cause"--emotionally, mentally, spiritually, or physically... No, doesn't mean that. But it does mean that where Jesus leads me, I follow and defer foremost to Him. And where there's been abuse, I defer to Him in love and grief, praying and trusting He will line things out in His own time.

I don't have to defend myself, and am called not to do so. And I don't have to preserve myself either, then.

The prevalent notion that if we don't assert our own rights, we'll be trampled on?...which drives us all to strive to assert ourselves more boldly in instances where "we have the right?" That's not of God.

And I err on that so frequently still--particularly driving, where there's law involved and also laws governing right-of-way and where refraining from endeavoring right-of-way when it's appropriate...reinforces illegal and dangerous behavior? It's difficult not to be excessively assertive. As an extreme alternate example, though, is the compulsion to stop in the middle of the road when traffic is flowing in order to let someone else immediately onto the road rather than allowing them to wait (even if impatiently). This latter is dangerous, too. And illegal, to some degree--obstructing the flow of traffic isn't supposed to be arbitrarily done, as accidents happen. So, all the more unreasonable when the whole situation is a matter of assisting someone indulging impatience or anxiety.

Just to say that there is authority over all these matters, and it's only by deferring to Christ that we can actively and continually do what's right and most loving in each instance. And sometimes that may entail abuse. But that's a completely different matter from actively, willfully seeking it out in ways which can harm self and others. Because that latter example of the traffic...while it may seem kind to the extreme, it effectively endangers many people potentially thereafter as well--including the person permitted to abruptly defy order, as there might become a sense of entitlement to do so which thereafter results in harm.

Any way. The whole idea of this latter contemplation of protection being men's calling and submission women's is that it's a scary thing to be so vulnerable to someone else. Especially when the potential for harm is known. And all the more when abuse is blatant, continual.

But I don't believe that lets us off the hook, as far as remaining submissive to the ordained authority paradigm--this, coming from someone who has been in many abusive situations and relationships. However...that doesn't mean silence, either. Doesn't mean refraining from getting out of the line of fire, as the Lord gives peace to do so. Life is precious, after all. And a gift to be cherished.

But in the right context, with the right leadership, submitting to authority can be a portrait to the world of the worthiness of God, the joy of Christ's love, and the blessedness of being cherished and safeguarded as one who is precious. I know this, from knowing Christ.

And from being kept by Him.

Just...where there's an abuse of leadership, sin turns to self-exaltation. Because otherwise, we have to submit to God and trust Him to deal with the things.

There's so much brokenness. So many things are not as they ought to be, due to sin's workings. Abuse should not happen. But neither should defiance of authority. And of the sins, that is what came first.

The deceitfulness of sin, enticing us to exalt ourselves and our own understanding--enticing us to defy God. Then isn't the way to evade temptation to submit to God? How much more a grace to be called continually to submit, to be that much nearer to deliverance all the day.