The day the world stood still

What a day. I'm a person who takes blogging to the level of journaling, so I apologize ahead of time to any offended parties

for sharing this stuff on the net. The reason I do it is simple. I once read a blog that changed the way I thought about

something. I once read a blog that encouraged me that I was making a good decision. I once read a blog where I discovered

that other people were going through the exact same thing I was. And for that--- it's all worth the potential embarrassment

of someone who knows us reading this and going: "Ooooooooh!! I'm telling."
Christians, I believe, should be transparent. It prevents hipocrisy and brings things to the light. That's what I'm trying

to do here.

I guess I should start by saying that God allows me to be tested, every time, when I make up my mind to follow Him in one

area of my life. That's exactly what has happened with me since the Ravelry thread on submission to your husband. The thing,

for those of you who aren't on Ravelry, about that thread was that there was something profoundly spiritual happening in it.

It reminded me of some old school R&P threads--- in that God and Satan, alongside the flesh, were definitely showing up and

definitely doing battle. In it, the very idea that one could be truly joyful in a submitted wife role was fought over. And I

maintained a position that I have discovered to be true-- that there is joy in submission, in doing what we were created to

do.

Of course, that got tested immediately, and I have always been able to say that it has been tested in a way that kept me

safe. But over the last few weeks, the mental and moral state of my husband has taken a plunge to a place where I'm not sure

what is going on anymore. Basically--- he's having a faith crisis. It's been going on since California, and it's not without

cause. But it is rooted in sin, and unfortunately for all of us, no one else can learn our lessons for us at the foot of the

cross. They have to be personalized and delivered straight to us by our Lord Himself, and I'm not the Holy Spirit in his

life. I am "AS" the Holy Spirit in his life.

We've had the opportunity to talk about it at great lengths this weekend. We even forsook the fellowship of believers to

sort it all out. And we've come to quite a few conclusions which I will spare you. But let me just say that I've had to

re-evaluate the expectations that I have of my husband because of some choices he is making. And it has been a rough

adjustment. I praise God for the strength He gives me not to be fearful in dark times but to be hopeful and teachable.

In today's My Utmost for His highest, Oswald Chambers says that frequently Christians focus too much on the effects of the

Cross and forget to focus on the cross itself. That's what has been happening here. My husband has expectations that come

from His decision to put His faith in God. When God doesn't deliver, he hasn't said: "what's wrong with me?" He's said:

"What's wrong with God?"

And it's hard. I'm not saying these things to uncover my husband, I'm saying them because somewhere someone is reading this

who has a wife or husband who goes through the exact same thing. And just as I have hope in this crisis, I want them to have

hope too.

A response to a post of mine in the the now-dying feminism thread in ravelry says: "The submitted wife thing I'm sure works

fine in ideal scenarios, ones in which the man is respectful, mature, affectionate, a good communicator, and a good

provider. One in which the wife never has to worry about money for food, clothing, shelter, etc., and one in which the wife

really does have as her only goal a clean house, dinner on the table, and a passel of kids underfoot. I'm sure it works very

well there."

The thing is... that person (femiknitzi, for inquiring minds) missed the whole point with that statement. You see, even if

your husband is disrespectful, immature, not affectionate, a terrible communicator, and a terrible provider... Even when you

have no idea where your next dime will come from, and when your dreams are bigger than a clean house, there can be joy in

submission. And why? Because you have learned the hardest lesson every Christian who is "dying to herself" can grasp: it's

not about you. Your joy doesn't depend on the benefits you receive. Those benefits are good and great and wonderful, but

they aren't the point. I've certainly lived without them and I don't expect them to result from my submission. But I do

expect to honor God. And that's a joy unlike any other.

The bottom line is that we must choose today whom we will serve-- whether it be our own selves or the Lord or other people. And through the process of sanctification, by the grace of God, I'm starting to learn what that means.

After our talk, which was admittedly very hard... (I have been agonizing over bringing a biblical reproof to my husband over certain things he has been doing. The reason I struggle is because I'm not sure where his faith lies. You can tell a professing christian something about sin in his life and his response will be "thank you, sister," and true repentance. But you can tell an unsaved person the same thing and his response will be "who are you to judge me? screw you." I wasn't sure which route to take with my husband because the very sin I wanted to address was one that caused him to respond like an unsaved person. To top it off, I wasn't sure if I should bring it to a pastor as well, or wether that was uncovering my husband. In the end, the right choice was to bring it at an appropriate time to my husband alone, and then to LISTEN as he shared with me the inner workings of his heart. And though it appeared as though no difference was made by my saying anything, we ended the conversation after many hours with his repentance in one or two areas that I had addressed. His faith is still on shaky ground, which is scary, but I am hopeful. And in the end, our love and unity was strengthened. His reactions to our talk since yesterday have been totally changed. I'm amazed and thankful.)

He asked me something that I think we should all ask of ourselves: "Do you love and respect me because the Bible says you have to, or do you love and respect me because you really do?"

Wow. What a tough question to answer. I went the honest route: "sometimes," I said, "I love you because I have to. But more often than not I love you because I really love you."
"What is there to love about me?" he asked.

My mind wandered over the last three incredible years of marriage. I thought about picking ripe berries with him in a field behind an old southern church in the hot, sweaty summer, about waiting for him as he ran into the forest to grab me the prettiest flower he had ever seen. I thought about pictures he had drawn of us as a legionnaire and his wife on the sandy beaches of ancient greece. I thought about nights up late creating "impenetrable fortresses" and our dream of opening a viking living history village and raising our kids in "the olde ways." I thought about holding hands and racing down the off ramp of a freeway, hearts pounding, barbed wire cuts bleeding in our legs and arms as we ran towards freedom and love together that fateful April day at Fort Jackson.
I thought about summer days spent on the sandy shores of the cape fear river, aligators and all. About freezing Christmas mornings when we clustered around our tree, opening presents other people had gotten us to give to each other.

I thought about the man who stood up to a whole company's worth of drill seargants to profess his love for me. I thought about the man who tried to sustain his family any way he knew how when his dream was gone... from putting on a suit every morning to sell cars to track pants to sell fitness.
I thought about his excited shout when he first saw Annika's head appear, and again as he raised his new son up in the air with great pride.

"What's not to love?" I told him. "I've never loved anything more."

You see, whether my husband is a believer or not is going to HUGELY affect the quality of my life and my children's lives. But it isn't going to change the love I have for him or my ability to submit to him. It's only going to change the speed at which I need to pull myself together enough to be his REAL helpmeet. That's what I'm here for. And now is my time to shine. :)