http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15086535/how-is-christ-head-of-the-church

In an easily overlooked comment in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, God moved the apostle to point out one foundational aspect of Christian relations: Holy Spirit-filled Christians submit “to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Ephesians 5:18–21).

These words appear prior to Paul’s discussion of marriage, parenting, and work relationships. It is clear from what follows that the general duty of submitting to one another does not swallow up the particular duties that are described at the end of Ephesians 5 and the beginning of Ephesians 6. For example, masters and parents do not abandon their positions of authority with servants and children because of this mutual submission.

And yet, this posture of submitting “to one another out of reverence for Christ” does inform and shape these relationships. Take Ephesians 6:1–4: since children are to honor their parents, parents are not to exasperate their children in the manner in which they call them to obedience. There is asymmetry between parent and child, and yet also reciprocity.

And if Scripture’s call to mutual submission in Christ applies to the relationships in Ephesians 6, it certainly applies to the marriage relationship, described in Ephesians 5:22–33. For this passage on marriage immediately follows Paul’s command to mutual submission in Ephesians 5:21.

Even in Marriage?

Here too, it must be stressed, that husbands and wives do not lose their particular marital callings on account of their general duty to submit to one another in Christ. Mutual submission does not put a wife in charge of her husband. He is still called to love her “as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her,” and she is still summoned to submit to him as her head under Christ (Ephesians 5:22–27).

But mutual submission, as a distinctly Christian concept, will make our marriages look different than non-Christian ones, including those that retain some vestigial, if corrupted, understanding of household headship. Indeed, the idea of a wife’s submission might appear less odious to the Western world today if the dynamic of Spirit-driven, Christ-exalting mutual submission were more visible in our homes and churches.

So, what might mutual submission look like in a Christian marriage? In a nutshell, it is a marriage characterized by mutual respect, care, and service — a kind of quiet competition to put the other person first, a “please, let me get that for you” or “you first!” attitude. Each Christian couple can think and pray through the implications of mutual submission for themselves, in their own marriages, but allow me to prime the pump by offering a few examples of what my wife, Emily, and I are working toward now.

Submission Waits

Mutual respect ought to be seen in the way we speak and listen to each other. Three examples from our marriage come readily to mind.

First, in the spirit of submitting to each other, we try not to interrupt each other. (Husbands, we can lead here.) I don’t mean the happy “I’ll end your sentences, and you end mine” interruptions when telling old stories or jokes. I’m speaking about the “I’ve heard you long enough, and what we really need is my input” interruptions of an impatient and unloving spirit.

Second, when husband and wife both start a sentence at the same time, especially when there is weight, tension, or depth to the conversation, we could do more than offer to “let you go first” (which often only means that we’re waiting for our own turn to speak). Instead, we could indicate that we’d actually like to hear what our spouses have to say first, that we truly wish to consider their ideas.

Third, either because of our age or because of our electronic devices, Emily and I are at a point where we too often derail a train of thought and struggle to remember where we were headed. So, we are learning to say, “I had one more comment, but if you’re going to lose your thought, I’ll let you go first.”

We have a lot of growing to do here, especially me, but we are asking the Lord to help us submit to one another in our speech. Perhaps something like these examples could work for your marriage or for a married couple for whom you regularly pray.

Submission Confesses

We can show mutual care, too, as we emerge from arguments and feel the first uncomfortable tingle of conviction that we might not have been entirely in the right. We have a golden opportunity to go to our spouses (even when we still think we are largely in the right) and say, “I’m sorry for the tone that I used with you. I disregarded how it would make you feel. Please help me to see where I’ve done wrong, and if I don’t agree right away, I won’t push back. I’ll think and pray about it, and then I’ll get back to you.” And if you’re really on a roll, “God put us together for a reason, and I don’t want to lose an opportunity to grow.”

Of course, apologies are rarely easy. In my experience, before, during, and after this conversation I need to pray words like “Lord, please humble me,” “Help me to mean more deeply what I am saying,” and “Open my eyes to see anything, everything, for which I need to repent.”

Submission Serves

Mutual submission also can be developed in the ways we serve each other. In many homes, a happy division of labor already catches the spirit of mutual submission, so I don’t wish for these suggestions especially to be read as prescriptions.

But it might help some marriages if men were quicker to get out of bed and turn off that last light, to attend to that unknown sound in the house, to get that glass of water for the bedside. It might help if we both chipped in to tidy, to vacuum, to set the table. It might help if one spouse said, “Ladies, the guys desperately want to do the dishes tonight,” or, “Guys, go sit down. We’ve got the kitchen.” It might help if both sought space for the other to attend to personal devotions, to go to a Bible study, to hang out with friends, to be alone, to exercise, to rest.

At a basic level, this submission to one another will look at the other’s biblical duties not to generously remind our spouses of what to do, or to tell them in glorious detail how to do it, but to help make our spouses’ tasks easier, even sweeter. If he is to love you as Christ loves his church, how can you act and speak so as to make that duty a joy for him? If she is to submit to you as to Christ, how can you model the ways Christ eases your own burdens in serving him (Matthew 11:28–30)? Can you pull with her on her yoke? Can you lift with her the heaviest burdens?

And, in thinking about marriage, I’d be remiss not to mention that this dynamic applies to the bedroom, as Paul explains in 1 Corinthians 7. We belong to the other, and therefore we consider first the other’s requests, needs, and desires in intimacy.

All for His Sake

Above all, we remember that submission to one another is for the sake of Christ (Ephesians 5:21). If our husband or wife does not respond in kind, we carry on — we did not do this merely for our spouse or for ourselves. No, we have done it for Christ.

We submit, no matter the expected or seen results, regardless of how our spouse responds, so that Christ will be honored, so that he will be pleased. We submit so that our gracious Master in heaven will say to us one day, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23), even if no one on earth notices right now. And we do it because we know that repenting from our previous patterns of selfishness leads Christ’s angels to rejoice, Christ’s saints to smile, and sinners who are on their way to Christ to wonder.

In the economy of grace, undeserved and unrequited love is the currency that purchased our own salvation. And if Christ has shared with us the treasures of his mercy, we will want to spend this same currency on our spouse as well.

Two men went up into the temple to worship. These men, however, unlike the two in Jesus’s parable (Luke 18:9–14), looked and sounded the same. Both lifted their hands in praise. Both sat silent beneath God’s word. Both bowed their heads in confession. And yet, only one of the men went down to his house justified. Only one was right with God.

Some may find this scenario troubling. If we cannot discern a person’s spiritual sincerity by his worship, then how can we discern it? If raised hands and attentive ears and a bent head can mask a hard heart, then where does true love for God appear?

The main answer comes in Jesus’s response to a certain lawyer. “Teacher,” the man asks, “which is the great commandment in the Law?” (Matthew 22:36). And Jesus, instead of responding with a single commandment, gives two:

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. (Matthew 22:37–39)

“Love God” is the first and greatest commandment, the crown of God’s good law. But such love never stands alone, Jesus says — nor is it chiefly known by outward acts of worship. Rather, love for God appears (or not) in how a person treats his neighbors. So, if you want to see someone’s spiritual sincerity more clearly, don’t mainly watch him in church. Watch him with his children. Watch him at work. Watch him in traffic. Watch him when offended. For you will know him by his neighbor-love.

Jesus’s Most-Quoted Verse

While the first and greatest commandment appears in the Shema — perhaps the most prominent Old Testament passage (Deuteronomy 6:5) — “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” may seem all but buried beneath the laws and ceremonies of Leviticus. But not to Jesus. Leviticus 19:18 became his most-quoted verse — and the most-quoted verse in the entire New Testament.

Why did Jesus repeatedly return to a passage we often rush through in Bible reading? For at least two reasons. First, Leviticus 19:18 summarizes, in remarkably compact form, the heart of God’s law as it relates to our relationships. As Paul would later write, “The one who loves another has fulfilled the law. For the commandments . . . are summed up in this word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Romans 13:8–9). Leviticus 19:18 is like the brief surfacing of an underground river that runs through the whole Old Testament, giving life to every law.

Yet Jesus returned to Leviticus 19:18 for another reason as well: perhaps more than anything else, neighbor-love reveals the sincerity of our religion. John Calvin notes how the first table of the Ten Commandments (relating to the love of God) “was usually either in the intention of the heart, or in ceremonies.” But, Calvin continues, “the intention of the heart did not show itself, and the hypocrites continually busied themselves with ceremonies.” Which is one reason why God gave the second table of the law (relating to love of neighbor), for “the works of love are such that through them we witness real righteousness” (Institutes, 2.8.52).

Here, in everyday interactions with family, friends, strangers, and enemies, the hidden heart appears. Hence, in the parable of the good Samaritan, Jesus illustrates true spirituality not by religious ceremony (in which the priest and the Levite excelled) but by practical mercy (Luke 10:30–37). Without such mercy, the most scrupulous religious observance becomes the white paint on a coffin (Matthew 23:27). As Jesus said in another repeated quotation, “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13; 12:7; quoting Hosea 6:6). Better to lend a hand on the side of the road than to arrive at the temple on time.

The spiritually dead can perform many religious ceremonies. They can gather with God’s people, pray long and often, memorize God’s laws, and tithe with precision. But they cannot love their neighbor as God requires.

Broader Neighbor, Deeper Love

At this point, however, we might ask, “Yes, neighbor-love reveals our spiritual sincerity, but can’t neighbor-love itself be feigned?” Indeed it can. Many Jews of Jesus’s day imagined they were obeying Leviticus 19:18 when they were actually obeying a command of their own making — a diminished and domesticated command more friendly to the flesh.

“Anyone can love lovely neighbors. But loving the hostile and the needy is a mark of Christlike grace.”

And so may we. The nineteenth-century preacher John Broadus notes how, precisely when we think we are loving our neighbors as ourselves, we may actually “be loving only [ourselves] — a kind of expanded selfishness” (quoted in Matthew, 160). Jesus often went to war with such “expanded selfishness.” He will not allow us to shrink neighbor-love to the level of unregenerate powers. Then and now, loving our neighbor as ourselves calls for something far beyond ourselves.

So, to stab us awake and send us running to God for mercy and help, Jesus not only tells us to love our neighbor, but he also reclaims the true meanings of neighbor and love.

Who Is My Neighbor?

When confronted with such a staggering command as “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” one of our first natural impulses is to narrow the meaning of neighbor to those who are easy to love.

The first time our Lord quotes Leviticus 19:18, he also quotes a popular addition to the command: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy’” (Matthew 5:43). Scour the Old Testament as we may, we will not land upon a command to hate our enemies (and we will find, to the contrary, commands such as Exodus 23:4–5). So, against the natural impulse to exclude enemies from the company of our neighbors, Jesus says, “Love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44).

Alongside enemies, the needy can easily be denied neighbor status, especially if those needy ones have no near relation to us. So, when a lawyer, “desiring to justify himself,” asks Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus has him picture a half-dead, stranded man, the kind of needy person who threatens to upend our schedule and empty our wallet (Luke 10:29–30). You may not know him; he may have no claim on you besides being a fellow human. But if you are near to him and able to help, then this needy one is your neighbor.

To assess the depth of our neighbor-love, then, we can ask who receives our regular care and attention. For whom do we pray (Matthew 5:44)? To whom do we “do good” (Luke 6:27)? And whom do we go out of our way to greet (Matthew 5:47)? Does the list include any enemies — those who offend us, provoke us, try us, wrong us, or simply ignore us? And does the list include any needy — the kind of people who disrupt your day and “cannot repay you” (Luke 14:14)?

If not, then our list of neighbors needs to grow. “For if you love those who love you,” Jesus asks us, “what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?” (Matthew 5:46). Anyone can love lovely neighbors. But loving the hostile and the needy is a mark of Christlike grace.

What Is Love?

Perhaps the lawyer’s question (“Who is my neighbor?”) is not our own. Perhaps we know neighbor spreads over our fellow humans whole, impartial as the sky. But what of love? Here as well, Jesus will not let us narrow the definition to something doable apart from him.

One of the most profound descriptions of true neighbor-love appears in what we know as the Golden Rule:

Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets. (Matthew 7:12)

“This is the Law and the Prophets” bears a striking resemblance to Matthew 22:40, where Jesus says that “all the Law and the Prophets” depend on the two great commandments — suggesting that the Golden Rule offers the gold standard for neighbor-love. And what a standard it offers.

Here we find an active, practical love, a love that goes beyond well-wishing to well-doing. Here we find an imaginative love that gives time and thought to what would truly benefit another. Here we find a self-denying love that serves others regardless of how they have served us. And here we find a broad, capacious love, one whose limits extend to “whatever you wish.” “Love your neighbor” pushes us further outward than we often go, bidding us to put our neighbors at the forefront of our consciousness rather than treating them as the background characters to the play starring me.

So, along with asking whom we love, we might ask how we love. Does our love regularly inconvenience us? Does it flow from a heart warm with desire for another’s welfare in Christ? Does it take shape in concrete action rather than remaining in the mouth or imagination? And for the task-oriented among us: Do our to-do lists include the varied needs of others, and not only our own?

He Neighbored Among Us

When Jesus commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves, then, he tells us to love all our neighbors — including enemies and the needy. And he tells us to really love them — applying to them the measure of our self-love. Such love, however imperfect (and imperfect it will be till heaven), infallibly marks those who truly love God.

Yet if the first commandment becomes visible through the second, the second becomes possible only through the first. Jesus commands a deeper love than our fallen hearts can offer. He commands a love that comes from God — indeed, a love that comes from the very God who became our neighbor. Jesus, to show us this righteousness and to be for us this righteousness, came and neighbored among us.

In him, we see flawless neighbor-love unfold amid a demanding life. Here is one who loved the enemy and the outsider, who healed centurions’ sons and sought Samaritan sinners. Here is one who loved others as himself, allowing endless needs and persistent pleas to interrupt his days and infringe on his rest. Here is one who loved his neighbor even when that neighbor held a hammer and nails to his skin.

More than that, here is one who loved us — needier than a half-dead man on the roadside, more hostile than any enemy we’ve known. Only love such as his can bend our hearts away from religious formalism to obey the first commandment. And only love such as his can fill our hearts enough to obey the second. Loving our neighbors as ourselves flows from being loved by Jesus, deeply and daily.

“Let every Christian take up the duty of Christian love with tenfold seriousness,” the Scottish pastor Maurice Roberts once wrote. And let him do it by beholding Jesus with tenfold attention, devotion, and love.