Checking my Shoes

Earlier this year, I was sitting in school traffic with the kids in a place notorious for people driving up the right lane and cutting in to a LONG queue in the left hand lane right at the last minute. It infuriates me at any time, but particularly when we are running late and we have already been driving for 55 minutes, 15 of which have been in that queue. I remember saying out loud to the kids, “Now, if anyone tries to cut in infront of me, I will be SO angry!”…which was really quite a silly thing to say because it was fairly inevitable and so I was actually just promising that I was going to be angry that morning.

When I got to work, we happened to be working through Ephesians and had arrived at the bit in chapter 6 around armour, and someone expressed that they struggled to understand exactly what “feet being fitted with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of Peace” means. As we discussed this, I realised that I had, that morning, chosen to fit my feet with readiness…a readiness to respond in a certain way should a certain situation present itself. But not the readiness which comes from the Gospel of Peace. I like Paul’s instruction because, in conjunction with the reflection on my traffic altercation that morning, it really points to intentionality in how we interact with different situations in life…to soak ourselves in the Gospel of Peace, to imagine different scenarios which might play out, and so be ready, when those happen, to respond in ways which make for peace.

This morning, I woke up in a foul mood. Not absolutely crippling, but just irritable – and not helped by our dog jumping on my son, and my son screaming like he was being murdered, on what had otherwise been a quiet morning for our neighbours. On the way to church, I reacted to my husband in way which made me realise that I had been READY to hear anything he said as an accusation, not an observation (it wasn’t a pretty reaction :(). On walking across the church parking lot and getting a piece of gravel stuck in my sandal, I remembered that I had even had a dream last night about walking barefoot with my husband and trying to argue that it was OK, even though I had had to stop every few steps to take the painful devil-thorns out of my feet as we walked.

And so I got in to church realising that I needed to do something about this mood. How do we fit our feet with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of Peace when we are just plain ratty? I sat during the worship time knowing that I couldn’t partake in sung worship to God if I wasn’t really serious about the state of my heart.

What came to mind as I sat there was a conversation I had with a “Kingdom-partner-becoming-friend” on Thursday morning. She had been struck around Jesus’ washing of His disciples’ feet. That He had told Peter that, unless He was allowed to wash Peter’s feet, he could have no part in Him. We sat realising that, as activist types, we are so often ready to run into action, but that Jesus has said that, unless we move from a place of Him having ministered to us, we have no part in Him…We are so ready to sing worship to God, to minister to others, to intercede for others, to do the things He calls us to do, to serve Him…but how often are we able to have Him serve us – to minister to us in deeply vulnerable, intimate ways? (If you have never had someone wash you feet before – give it a go and you will understand the vulnerability and intimacy of that action!)

My Kingdom-partner-becoming-friend had had the image of Jesus “massaging the good news into His disciples’ feet” before He sent them out into the world to do His work. This morning, I sat in church asking God to massage His good news into my feet, to help me to walk only when I have had my feet deeply nurtured and healed and fitted with a readiness which comes from HIM, from His good news, from the Good News of the Kingdom of God.

To be honest, I am still in a grotty mood. I am writing this not really knowing what Jesus massaging my feet with His good news looks like in practise for me today. And it is most likely different for each of us. But I do know that He is calling us each in to a place of Him being able to minister to us. And so I share the invitation with you.

Addressing the “s” word

I have quite a few other half-blog posts in my head at the moment, and this one is a little bit “technical” and quoting someone else entirely, but it has been on my mind of late. When I read this passage on Submission by Richard Foster in his Celebration of Discipline, it set me free in many ways (mainly from feeling like I was heretical for disliking Paul because of the way his writing had been interpreted “at me”!)

Following an insanely ridiculous post going around Facebook at the moment listing “10 types of women Christian men shouldn’t marry” (oh, how many of those points we ticked for me! Don’t look it up – it is nauseating and it will make the writer think it is popular for the wrong reasons!) and a far richer experience of reading through Ephesians each morning with my work community, I thought I would post this…just because it exists and is life-giving.

“Jesus’ example and call to follow the way of the cross in all human relationships form the basis for the teaching of the Epistles on submission. The apostle Paul grounds the imperative to the Church to “count others better than yourselves” in the submission and self-denial of the Lord for our salvation. “He…emptied himself, taking the form of a servant” (Phil.2:4-7). The apostle Peter, in the middle of his instructions on submission, directly appeals to the example of Jesus as the reason for submission. “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps…When he was reviled he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he trusted to him who judges justly” (1 Pet. 2:21-23). As a preface to the Ephesian Haustafel[1] we read, “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Eph.5:21 [italics added]). The call for Christians to live in the cross-life is rooted in the cross-life of Jesus himself.

The Discipline of submission has been terribly misconstrued and abused from failure to see this wider context. Submission is an ethical theme that runs the gamut of the New Testament. It is a posture obligatory upon all Christians: men as well as women, fathers as well as children, masters as well as slaves. We are commanded to live a life of submission because Jesus lived a life of submission, not because we are in a particular place or station in life. Self-denial is a posture fitting for all those who follow the crucified Lord. Everywhere in the Haustafel the one and only compelling reason for submission is the example of Jesus.

This singular rationale for submission is staggering when we compare it to other first-century writings. In them there was a constant appeal to submission because that was the way the gods had created things; it was one’s station in life. Not a single New Testament writer appeals to submission on that basis. The teaching is revolutionary. They completely ignored all the contemporary customs of superordinate and subordinate and called everyone to “count others better than yourselves.” (Phil.2:3).

The Epistles first call to subordination those who, by virtue of the given culture, are already subordinate. “Wives, be subject to your husbands…Children, obey your parents…Slaves, obey in everything those who are your earthly masters…” (Col.3:18-22 and parallels). The revolutionary thing about this teaching is that these people, to whom first-century culture afforded no choice at all, are addressed as free moral agents. Paul gave personal moral responsibility to those who had no legal or moral status in their culture. He made decision-makers of people who were forbidden to make decisions.

It is astonishing that Paul called them to subordination since they were already subordinate by virtue of their place in first-century culture. The only meaningful reason for such a command was the fact that by virtue of the gospel message they had come to see themselves as free from subordinate status in society. The gospel had challenged all second-class citizenships, and they knew it. Paul urged voluntary subordination not because it was their station in life, but because it was “fitting in the Lord” (Col. 3:18).

This feature of addressing moral teaching to the cultural subordinates is also a radical contrast to the contemporary literature of the day. The Stoics, for example, addressed only the person on the top side of the social order, encouraging him to do a good job in the superordinate position he already saw as his place. But Paul spoke first to the people that his culture said should not even be addressed and called them to the cross-life of Jesus.

Next, the Epistles turned to the culturally dominant partner in the relationship and also called him to the cross-life of Jesus. The imperative to subordination is reciprocal. “Husbands, love your wives…Fathers, do not provoke your children…Masters, treat your slaves justly and fairly…” (Col. 3:19-4:1 and parallels). Some most certainly will object that the command to the dominant partner does not use the language of submission. What we fail to see is how much submission those commands demanded of the dominant partner in his cultural setting. For a first century husband, father or master to obey Paul’s injunction would make a dramatic difference in his behaviour. The first-century wife, child, or slave would not need to change one whit to follow Paul’s command. If anything, the sting of the teaching falls upon the dominant partner.

Further, we need to see that these imperatives to husbands, father and masters constitute another form of self-denial. They are just another set of words to convey the same truth, namely, that we can be set free from the need to have things our own way. If a husband loves his wife, he will live in consideration of her needs. He will be willing to give in to her. He will be free to regard her as more important than his own needs. He will be able to regard his children as more important than his own needs (Phil. 2:3).

In Ephesians Paul exhorts slaves to live in a spirit of joyful, voluntary, willing service to their earthly masters. Then he exhorts masters, “Do the same to them” (Eph 6:9). Such a thought was incredible in first-century society. Slaves were chattel, not human beings. Yet Paul with divine authority counsels masters to give way to the needs of their slaves.

Perhaps the most perfect illustration of revolutionary subordination is found in Paul’s tiny letter to Philemon. Onesimus, Philemon’s runaway slave, had become a Christian. He was returning voluntarily to Philemon as part of what it meant for him to be a disciple of Christ. Paul urges Philemon to welcome Onesimus “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, as a beloved brother…” (Philem. 16). John Yoder remarks, “This amounts to Paul’s instructing Philemon, in the kind of non-coercive instruction which is fitting for a Christian brother, …that Onesimus is to be set free.” Onesimus was to be subordinate to Philemon by returning. Philemon was to be subordinate to Onesimus by setting him free. Both were to be subordinate out of reverence for Christ (Eph. 5:21).

The Epistles did not consecrate the existing hierarchical social structure. By making the command to subordination universal, they relativised and undercut it. They called for Christians to live as citizens of a new order, and the most fundamental feature of this new order is universal subordination.

[1]     A term coined by Martin Luther meaning literally “house-table”, hence a table of rules for the Christian household. The Haustafel has come to be recognised as a particular literary form and can be found in Ephesians 5:21-6:9, Colossians 3:18-4:1, Titus 2:4-10 and 1 Peter 2:18-3:7.”

Richard Foster – “Celebration of Discipline” – Submission – Revolutionary Subordination as Taught in the Epistles