Everyday Submission is More Like a Game and Less Like Gethsemane

Games are great fun. Except when they’re not.

For now, let’s ignore the skills of the players and their suitability for any given game. Leaving that aside, there are two factors that make all the difference between a satisfying game and one we’d rather forget. The first is how skilled the person who wrote (or writes) the rules of the game is; the second is how willing the players are to accept the rules and, where applicable, any decisions made by the person running or judging the game.

I say all this because I believe very similar principles apply to submission. Submission is a kind of acceptance — a willingness to play someone else’s game, as it were. And, like in a game, the result can be immensely fun.

Unfortunately, submission is very strongly associated with people not having fun. Why is this? After all, submission isn’t about being forced to do things—that would be subjugation. And before we move on, let’s be clear on this point: submission always involves choice. When choice is absent, or is a mere illusion, we’re not dealing with submission but something else instead. So why is it, then, that true choice-enabled submission has such negative connotations?

What We Associate with Submission

One reason is that we don’t associate the word “submission” with the many positive, everyday, low-key contexts where fun and mutual enjoyment are the outcome. For example, an adult playing with a child, where the child decides which magical land they’re going to visit that day, or other collaborative activities, like brainstorming where to go for a family holiday, deciding what songs a band will play in their next performance, or envisioning how a theatre company will bring a play to life. We don’t call these choices “acts of submission,” but they all involve acceptance of someone else’s preferences and/or decisions.

Another, more obvious reason why submission has negative connotations is that it often does involve doing something we would not do if we had a completely free choice. It means paying for your ticket before you travel; it’s reading a poem you don’t particularly like because your best friend asked and it’s her wedding; it can even mean refusing to give a friend and colleague a reference when they’re laid off because your employer’s HR policies forbid you to do so.

Let’s cut to the chase. For Jesus, submission meant doing what Mary and Joseph asked because they didn’t understand how he thought, and they found that experience stressful (Luke 2:48–51); it meant paying the temple tax even though he knew he was exempt (Matt. 17:24–27); and it meant allowing himself to be betrayed, arrested, tried, and executed in the most tortuous and unjust manner possible—something that no one in their right mind would consent to if there was any other option.

And here we have a problem.

Gethsemane Was Not Normal

The Synoptic Gospels record what was perhaps Jesus’s greatest act of submission. I’m talking about the moment in the Garden of Gethsemane where he asked the Father for a way out but then prayed, “Not my will, but yours” (Matt. 26:36–46; Mark 14:35–36; Luke 22:39–44). The problem is not what Jesus did (what he did was good!), it’s that Christians sometimes talk about his action as if it’s a template for everyday life. Let me assure you, there was nothing “everyday” about Gethsemane or Good Friday; this one-time pivot point in history—when the Son of God bore the sin of the entire world and removed it—was not normal. By definition, it was exceptional.

True, it is an example of submission. Jesus would not have gone to the cross if there had been any other way for him to accomplish what he had set out to do, but this doesn’t mean that submission is fundamentally about setting aside our desires. Let’s remember that Jesus wanted to save the world. Yes, from his time-bound, body-bound perspective, he asked God the Father if there were other ways to achieve his goal before he came to the point of no return. But ultimately, going to his death was part of the plan, and Jesus didn’t doubt the plan would work. There was no suspicion that the Father didn’t know what he was asking of Jesus, or that the Father preferred things this way because it was convenient (for the Father). And while there is no doubt that Jesus did glorify the Father through what he did, the adulation associated with Jesus’s passion ultimately rests with Jesus (Rev. 5:9–12).

In other words, Jesus’s submission was not about switching off his brain, ignoring his emotions, or accepting needless suffering. Neither was it about accepting a permanent place in the grand scheme of things that strips him of his worth. (And lest there be any doubt, Jesus’s rightful place is complete equality and authority with the Father.[1])

All of this matters deeply.

Sometimes It’s Right to Resist Another Person’s Will

Sometimes when we don’t want to do something, we have very good reasons why—because the situation is not like Gethsemane and the person asking for something is not like the Father. Instead, that person might have selfish motives, or what they’re asking for won’t achieve anything meaningful, or what they’re asking of us will cost us too much in the long term. When we are in these moments, it is not helpful to think of Jesus in Gethsemane and acquiesce with, “Not my will, but yours.” No, instead, we need to listen to our emotions, disentangle and understand them, and think through what is being proposed. Then we can respond in a way that respects our personhood and the personhood of the people we’re dealing with.

We might end up being the one who sets the rules—in which case, we should do so in a way that genuinely honours the people we’re working with and serves our collectively shared goals. Or we might end up doing something on other people’s terms, letting them lead and make the key decisions; but if so, this will be in a way that doesn’t undermine our agency or who we are.

And this takes us to another important point: when someone insists upon submission by others, when they put non-negotiables on the table, it’s often because something about their identity is at stake. This isn’t necessarily wrong—personal boundaries are hugely important in maintaining a healthy sense of self. However, when one person’s requirements of others become very particular, when the agreement of others becomes the goal in itself, when dialogue is shut down, we’re not dealing with healthy personal boundaries. We’re dealing with someone who feels their identity is threatened. And while it’s right to treat that person with compassion and dignity, the answer is not to submit to them so that they feel more secure; it’s to help them build up a more rounded and resilient sense of who they are.[2]

Concluding Thoughts

Earlier, I wrote that adults might submit to children as they play imaginary games together. While the stakes in that example are fairly low, they are far from trivial. The point is that submission often doesn’t need lengthy deliberation, and it can be mutually enjoyable—context will shape how and when it’s right for people, and groups of people, to submit to each other. Meanwhile, when the stakes are high, it’s important to remember that in all relationships, whether mutual or hierarchical, everyone has something to learn from the perspectives and desires of others. Taking other people’s views on board may feel unintuitive, perhaps unnatural or awkward, because they are in some sense foreign. (They weren’t your ideas!) But being willing to try them out, being willing to yield and see what happens, this is where we discover our fullest selves and achieve the unexpected.

Notes

[1] It has been suggested that as the Son, Jesus is subordinate to the Father, but this contradicts the doctrine of the Trinity, which says that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are co-equal. Rev. Dr. Kevin Giles has written and spoken extensively on this subject, including in his book The Rise and Fall of the Complementarian Doctrine of the Trinity. His 2016 lecture is on the CBE website here: https://www.cbeinternational.org/resource/nicene-and-reformed-doctrine-trinity/.

[2] When it is safe to do so. In cases of domestic abuse, for example, the victim does not bear this responsibility.

Photo by Nik Korba on Unsplash.