Seth’s windshield is cracked — on the passenger side, near the top, at least a handsbreadth long. Mine is chipped, the result of our latest roadtrip.

So I, being the obsessive-compulsive rule-follower that I am, did some research and asked around and found a way to get our windshields fixed — for free. I was so excited that I called Seth from work. “Hey, baby, guess what? We can get your windshield fixed for free!” I was brimming with enthusiasm, and was utterly crushed and speechless at his response: no. What? No? Why?

The ensuing argument isn’t important, except to say that in it I certainly overstepped the bounds of Ephesians 5:22: “Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord.”

I never dreamed I’d have a “problem” with submission. Look at my track record with my parents, I reasoned; I submitted to them, didn’t I? Sure, there’d be aspects of marriage that I’d stumble in, but submission wasn’t gonna be one of them.

And, of course, I was wrong — not only about not struggling with submission, but I’m realizing more and more that I was pretty rotten to my parents compared to the way my behavior should have been.

I “submit” pretty easily when Seth is able to convince me to his point of view, or when I’m able to convince him. But then there’s things like the windshield when I absolutely think I’m right (the free opportunity is now and should be taken) and think his position is wrong (that it’s not worth taking the time at the moment). And then I prove myself to be this arrogant self-absorbed idiot of a wife who makes her husband wish to be “on the corner of the rooftop“. In short, I’m pretty lousy about supporting him when I disagree with him.

It’s not like I went off and took the car in despite his protests, and I didn’t really bug him about it endlessly, either. But there’s a line somewhere of what is submissive speech and what is unsubmissive sin, and I strode boldly across it. Or ran across it.

I seem to do that rather often, although I don’t think I saw it so clearly until the windshield incident. It’s so complicated to think of or speak of in this age of feminism — it’s not like I can just strike up a conversation with my coworkers, “hey, how do you submit to your husbands as to the Lord?” It’s a valid topic, and one I’ve certainly discussed with nonbelievers — but truthfully, too few believers even are prepared to discuss it (or believe it, perhaps), much less nonbelievers.

I wish I had a multitude of answers to write here; I’d even settle for enough organized thoughts to make a bulleted list. I have neither. I have the very startlingly huge command to submit to my husband “as to the Lord” — just thinking about the magnitude of that is amazing in an intimidating way — if Jesus said “I don’t want to take the car in to get the windshield fixed” I think I’d be like… okay, and it would end there. Yet Christ is perfect; Seth is not, and I think it’s clear that a “good wife” attempts to gently and submissively impart some wisdom to her husband when he lacks. And therein perhaps lies the difficulty; not only can it be difficult to determine exactly what “gently and submissively” should be, but it can be a terrible thing to tame my pride enough to remain submissive even if I do know how.

I keep coming back to Colossians 4:6, “let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt…” And trying to always put Seth before myself. And listening to his advice on the subject, which, while very difficult for me to hear at times, is nonetheless very useful.

“There was a celebrated Englishman who sat with a friend once, watching and listening to a philharmonic orchestra. As they listened, the Englishman watched a man playing second violin. He was playing it well, but he was second violin. The Englishman said to his friend, ‘See that man there playing second violin? If I were playing second violin in that orchestra, do you know what I would do? I would never rest day or night until I was playing first violin. And then I would never give myself rest day or night until I was directing that orchestra. When I got to be director I would never rest until I had become a composer. And when I got to composing music for the orchestra I would never give myself rest until I was the best composer in England.’ The children of the world are sometimes wiser than the children of light. We have been offered not the directorship of a great orchestra, but glory and truth unsearchable. We have been offered the face of God and the glory of Christ. We have been offered holiness and righteousness and indwelling by the Spirit. We can have our prayers answered and have hell fear us because we have a hold on God who invites to draw on His omnipotence. We are offered all this, and yet we sit and play second violin without ambition.”

Quote from A.W. Tozer, Rut, Rot, or Revival. I think I’d like to start reading theology books again…