The Real Elders Among Us

© 2011 Doug Wertman, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

I sat with my new friend, a sweet soft-spoken woman with graying hair. We were sharing prayer requests and it didn't take long for her share her experience in the church where she and her husband had attended for years. With some hesitation and tears on the verge of spilling, she said this: "In all these years, no one has asked me where I can use my gifts."

Immediately I had a deep feeling of empathy as I remembered one of my own church experiences. For over a year I had been advocating for women but never once during that time did the elders ask me what God was calling me to or where I wanted use my gifts. I got the message.

Don't question where we put you - we are the gatekeepers of the Spirit's work among God's people.

But that's not how I read my Bible. Rather than listening to the Spirit and growing the church toward maturity, leaders can act like a dam on a river that restricts its flow. Asking and listening well to the Spirit AND the people will help to open the floodgates.

On behalf of my friend and others like me who are in this middle place
     between birth and death,
          between our stories of youth and our last chapter of life,
               between the journey of growing into our unique take on life and faith
               and the final journey to heaven:
     God is not done with us yet.

His Spirit is moving, transforming and empowering the elders among us. (Here I am referring not to church leadership but to those in the pews who are 50+.)

In fact, as I wrote in an earlier post, not affirming this hurts the church and grieves the Spirit of God "who more often than not waited until His appointed leaders were well past youth before they were called to enter into their most significant leadership and ministry roles." Remember Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Zechariah and Elizabeth, and Anna.

This is what I used to hear from the older church population when I was younger and seeking to empower others in ministry: I've done my duty in the church. It's the younger generation that needs to step up.

Looking back I wonder if the problem was not lazy elders but discouraged ones. Elders tired of being used and not known. Elders drained from working in expected roles rather than serving in their gifted roles. Elders used to duty and discipline but not freedom and joy.

Today, with the emphasis on the younger generation and the real need to disciple them well toward maturity, there is a danger of ignoring the elders into the margins, of misinterpreting the movement of the Spirit in their lives, of forgetting that dreams and visions do not die at age 50.

There is a danger that as the population of baby boomers swell within the ranks of the retired, these neglected servants and mentors shrink within the church.

We can't afford the same mistake.

It's a Small World Afterall

My toes wiggled through the damp sand as I stood at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. It was finer than the sand I had always known. At least the water was warm like what I was used to. But the landscape behind me was foreign.

It was my freshman year of college. Across the vast ocean was home where my family remained while I settled into dorm life. The adventure of leaving home and being on my own didn’t take long to evaporate into the warm salty air of San Diego.

The university was situated on cliffs overlooking the ocean. I would stand and gaze out towards the horizon overwhelmed by the vastness of the separation that was at times unbearable. I wanted to go home so badly. But each time I turned around and walked back to my new world. Eventually it became home.

The hardest thing to adjust to was the size of the United States, almost 4 million square miles. The island of Okinawa where I grew up is only 464 square miles. The more I realized how big my new home was the smaller I felt inside and the smaller I got, the more lost I became.

But the one thing that helped press back the looming lostness was my new faith in Christ. My journey of navigating this country is in some ways a metaphor of my journey into the vastness of God and his love for one small person.

Each step, each move, each tear, each embrace of whatever and whomever God put in my path has enlarged my world both inner and outer. God has grown and stretched me into the space he ordained from the beginning but waited and worked patiently to fill in my 56 years.

The last 12 years have been especially trying and stretching. They were years of regaining a passion for ministry in the church, of earning a masters in theology, and of discovering and using my gifts. But they were also years of wounding, of disappointments, of being misunderstood, of resisting efforts by others to keep me small, and of being named and shamed.

It meant I had to leave two churches that I loved dearly. But I found another church and it felt like I had finally landed on a friendly shore. I was ready to engage my new community and find my niche.

Then just as I thought I was going to fill out the rest of the space God had for me, he had something else for me to do. I found out my sister had lymphoma and she needed me to be a caregiver. God had another battle for me to fight, the beginning of which I described in my last post.

Since then the events have carried me like a whirlwind to another place. Only recently have I had the time to begin processing where I have landed.

My world has become small once again. It consists of only two places, my home in Portland and my second home in Florida. There’s no other place I’d rather be as I have walked on holy ground journeying alongside my sister and her battle against cancer.

But I am on an “island” once again. I have to say no to the yearnings I feel when I stand at the edge of this new ocean and remember the land I once inhabited. I have had to put all future plans on hold. I constantly remind myself that being inwardly large is not directly proportionate to outward achievements. I struggle to believe that my value, my identity, and my gifts are intact and that God will continue to grow me whether I’m constrained on an island or roaming a continent.

For now my world is smaller but I am choosing to believe that I am not.

A Different Battle

There are times when you need to turn around and walk away.

Retreat from the conflict.

Reflect on the events and conversations.

Reframe your story and a new direction.

Restore any cracks in your identity to its resurrected condition.

Reconcile the disappointments to the bigger Story of Jesus and the Spirit's movement in your life.

In the past two months I've started doing all of these.

It meant leaving a church and leaving my blog in order to regroup. During that period the fight I was engaged in on a small scale was being duplicated on a larger scale in blogs that have a national and worldwide following.

As I listened to conversations about what women in ministry can or cannot do or whether wives should or should not desire mutuality in marriage, I struggled with deep emotions and wondered if God was going to ask me to continue the fight.

I seriously wanted to walk away forever.

I'm in a church now that has women elders. So far what I see is giving me hope that I can do life with this beautiful, raw, vulnerable, imperfect, compassionate community. I feel wanted. I believe I can contribute with my gifts and strengths.

No more battles to fight, right God?

Well, the answer wasn't what I expected.

I'm in another battle but it's not mine. It's my sister's. My younger sister. My only sister.

Pat has cancer.

God has called me into a season of helping her fight for her life, of serving her in ways I have never done for anyone else.

My friend Ed recently wrote a blog to encourage us to walk away from the battle and choose to serve others for the Kingdom's sake. Instead of fighting people, fight the darkness of this world.

I believe he has wise words to offer those who are battle-weary or those who are fighting for the wrong reasons.

There are times when God will call one into battle against thoughts, arguments and pretensions that are set up against the knowledge of God (2 Cor. 10:5). Arrogance and a lack of Christian love will mistakenly meld the person with the argument. As Ed eloquently points out, fighting people will not grow the Kingdom of God.

But humility and authentic Christian love will serve the other -- even in a battle. This may be tough, confrontive love or this may be patient, quiet love. This is Christ both washing the feet of Judas and then identifying him as a betrayer.

Then there are seasons in which God calls one away from the battle, away from those who might betray you or cage you in places where they might feel safe but you are not. So you leave to be safe, to be free, to be loved by a different tribe.

But I am discovering that just because I walk away from one battle in order to serve does not mean there isn't another one to fight.

Currently I am not fighting people or belief systems. I am fighting alongside my sister against a consequence of fallenness in the world, against cancer.

I entered battle by going to her when she called for help.

I will battle the cancer in my sister's body just as fiercely as I have battled against injustice and inequality.

I battle with prayer every night while I tuck her into bed. I pray over every cell of her body to submit to the regimen of drugs in order to return to normalcy, over her mind to face this with faith, hope and courage and over her heart to believe that she is not alone.

I battle with truth as I read Scripture and Sarah Young's Jesus Calling to help her believe that Jesus sees her, knows her, loves her and is present with her.

I battle with love when I shampoo her long hair knowing she may lose it soon and when I massage her feet which have felt the sheets of the hospital bed for too many days.

When I do what God has called me to do, no matter what it is I battle those forces that fight to thwart my calling. It may be traditional views of women. It may be spiritual arrogance or ignorance. But it can also be fear or loss of health and hope.

Right now I am fighting with my sister against unseen forces gone awry in her body.

I battle through serving.

In Search of an Adult to Grow Into

In my last post I described a delightful visit from two Japanese relatives who judged our lives to be joyful and productive. Intersecting with us for three days prompted them to ask me, "What is your power?" I gave a pretty short answer but if I had more time and they had indicated a desire to go deeper, I would have explained that the Jesus-kind-of joy is usually juxtaposed with pain. That grief, tears and disappointments deepen the well for joy to fill. That an abundant life does not mean an easy life but it's a life that makes even the poorest on earth feel rich.

Their question helped to remind me of the life Jesus has called me into, which I especially needed at this time.

During the recent transition from one church to another, my husband and I worked hard to leave well. We met with the elders to plan an exit strategy since we were very involved at several levels. The discussion went well but the execution of the plan hit a snag and in the process, I was deeply hurt in two very painful conversations.

It was a disappointing ending to six years of loving and serving in this church. A period of depression and withdrawal followed but it was very brief. I came out stronger and more confident of who I am as a woman and follower of Christ. The pain was felt, grieved and then released. In the aftermath I have felt more alive and clear of what life means for me. It is filled with people I love and who love me and is superintended by Christ who loves and delights in me. 

Often I will reflect on my past journey taking note of patterns and significant felt changes. I am amazed that after each point of pain and disappointment, there has been a greater awareness of and sensitivity to people, a growing clarity of my values and purpose in life, and a deeper experience of God's love and acceptance. I feel more alive today than last year and the years before that.

Put another way I feel like I've taken another step from adolescence toward adulthood.

I admit I am still waiting to grow up and be an adult. Not adult as in physical development, educational achievements, job security, family responsibilities or age of majority. Adult as in emotional and spiritual maturity. The reality? I will always be adolescent in some way.

As much as I want to get past adolescence, progress is not something I can totally control. The next painful event exposes another childish way, whether mine or someone else's, and it's not easy to put it behind me as the Apostle Paul exhorts in 1 Corinthians 13:11. Those "childish ways" insist on playing peek-a-boo.

Despite the continuing threat of emotional and spiritual growing pains, becoming an adult means being more comfortable in my own skin, accepting others where they are and embracing life along with its gut-wrenching, take-the-air-out-of-you moments. I have taken comfort in knowing that Frederich Buechner confessed at the age of 80 that he had not yet become an adult.

I am not a past participle but a present participle, even a dangling participle. I am not a having-grown-up one but a growing-up one, a groping-up one, not even sure much of the time just where my growing and groping are taking me or where they are supposed to be taking me. I am a verbal adjective in search of a noun to latch onto, a grower in search of a self to grow into.

An "adult adolescent" he calls himself. The adolescent ignores the pain or is trapped by it. The adult will grow through the pain without burying it or succumbing to it. Pain puts you in touch with your emotions which makes you more human. It is not how much you know or how well you reason your way through life. It is pain that grows you up.

Buechner describes what I have found to be true:

We are never more alive to life than when it hurts - never more aware both of our own powerlessness to save ourselves and of at least the possibility of a power beyond ourselves to save us and heal us if we can only open ourselves to it. We are never more aware of our need for each other, never more in reach of each other, if we can only bring ourselves to reach out and let ourselves be reached...We are never more in touch with life than when life is painful, never more in touch with hope than we are then, if only the hope of another human presence to be with us and for us.

What is my power? It's not "what" but "who."

Christ saves and heals me, binds me to a community, takes the yoke of my adult burdens, teaches me how to carry them with gentleness and humility, gives me permission to be emotional and fragile.

Christ takes me from infancy through adolescence into maturity, into the fullness of Himself so that I am less and less tossed back and forth by men.

That is when I am most human and most like Him.

That is when I feel most alive and most adult.

A Life That Needs No Translation

I've been on a two-month hiatus from my blog, taking the time to realign my heart and readjust to this new place I am entering. I have transitioned out of one church to another where I am no longer fighting a patriarchal system. This means I'm trying to get back on track on why I want to write and what I want to write. It is going to take some time. In the meantime...

I admit I was a bit nervous and a little stressed about the two strangers who were coming to stay with us for three days. Strangers but also family from the other side of the world whom I had not seen for many years. I had met my Japanese cousin only briefly 15 years ago on a trip to Osaka with my mother. His daughter had visited our home 27 years ago. There had been no communication since then because my deaf-mute mother could not call long distance nor write a letter, having never learned how to read or write. I did not know Japanese either. My cousin and his daughter were now 72 and 46 years old. Our lives had changed drastically on both sides of the world.

The time spent hosting them in our home turned out to be surprisingly fun despite the challenge of translation between English, Japanese and sign language. They responded to every new experience with "Ahh!" and "Ohh!" in harmonious squeals of delight. Rejecting offers to take them to Japanese restaurants, they preferred the real American thing, preferably Portland-style. So we introduced them to McMenamins one evening and Multnomah Falls Lodge the other. They especially loved craft beers. We capped off their final night with a late evening firepit and roasted s'mores. Everything was captured on their digital camera.

In between expressions of gratitude for caring for my mother, they made frequent references to one particular observation. My cousin lamented that the Japanese worked too hard and did not know how to enjoy life like the Americans did. I assured them that Americans had the same problem. But according to their observations of our home and never-ending fun projects, our children and grandchildren, and our hospitality, they insisted that Jon and I knew how to live life with exuberance and joy.

Now granted, we have had more time to enjoy life since Jon retired from teaching three years ago. Even that amazed them because Jon was able to retire at the young age of 55. My cousin had no thoughts of retiring even in his 70s. Believe me, we keep pinching ourselves that we are in this particular season of life.

On the day they departed, we spent a few hours enjoying our last three-language conversation on our deck under a billowing, yellow canopy that shaded us, along with the forest of 150-ft Douglas fir trees, from the hot sun. Then during a lull in the craziness of broken English and gesturing hands, my cousin turned to his daughter and asked her to translate a question to me. He saw our productive, happy, love-filled lives and wanted to know what our "power" was.

Our power? You mean motivation? Her head nodded. I thought for a minute and gave two answers. In short, my father and my Father. I had a father who taught me I could do anything and I am a Christian who loves Jesus. They accepted my answer happily and offered their own Buddhist faith as a point of mutual contact and respect. I accepted in return.

Since that exchange I have reflected on their question some more.  What does not need translation is a life that is enjoyed and filled with people who are loved. Maybe that's why Jesus insists we treat each other with his kind of love and live his kind of abundant life. Such a gospel-life "speaks" so loudly that it prompts the question, "What is your power?"

My Japanese relatives only saw a very small slice of our life. When I have guests I'm like any other person - I behave my best and put a lot of effort into my hospitality. But my hope is that what they saw was the real thing, the Jesus-kind-of-life that comes from loving Christ with every fiber of my body and every intention of my heart. I don't have the gift of evangelism but perhaps my gift of hospitality is close enough.

I don't live that life well all the time but there are moments like those spent with my relatives from the other side of the world that tell me I am progressing with my translation skills.

The Unwritten Story

Eden and Eternity. The Beginning and the End of the Story.

Eden. Perfect man and perfect woman created in the imago dei to live in a perfect world. Created to rule and steward the earth together. Created to love perfectly both in friendship and if married, in one-flesh union. Created for community with God and with a world filled with perfect men and perfect women together imaging a creative, loving God who sits on a heavenly throne and walks in a lush garden.

Stop. Fast forward.

Eternity. A new heavens and a new earth converge as the Holy City, the place of the heavenly throne, comes down to dwell among the community of the imago Christi. The Second Adam comes for his Bride and wipes the tears from her eyes. No death, no mourning, no pain, no night. Instead there is dazzling beauty, shining glory, and thirst-quenching, healing life from a river and from a tree. The new earth is not the old Eden restored. It’s completely replaced by a far more glorious creation.

The old has passed away; Christ makes everything new (Revelation 21:4-5).

In the meantime we live in the middle story between Eden and Eternity, bookended by perfection in creation and then recreation. The challenge lies in trying to anticipate the story yet to be written because those who consider themselves to be characters in God’s story tend to want to write the future script based on the past script, especially the sacred script.

But God is not one to be scripted by any human.

God’s thoughts are higher than our thoughts; his ways are higher than our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9; Job). God may change the rules (Deuteronomy 23:1 to Isaiah 56:3-6; Old Covenant to New). God will dismiss former things to do a new thing (Isaiah 43:18-19).

Furthermore the sacred script is often silent on many social issues, which begs the question, “Why, if the text is inspired, did God not make his thoughts more clear from the beginning?” Thoughts concerning polygamy or slavery or the treatment of women. Those who care about these issues and then read the script at face value conclude it is flawed and therefore God is an imaginary character.

I think on these things and wonder if the sacred script is ambiguous or deeply complex on purpose. Perhaps the flow of the story in the sacred script is indicative of how the script will progress throughout humanity’s history. Perhaps God intends ambiguity and has actually inspired more descriptions than prescriptions than we allow. For a good reason.

God continues to give us choice in this middle place of grace.

I wonder if God’s intention is to invite us to obedience rather than demand it, to give us enough clues about his heart and character so that we choose to obey out of love, not law. I see this in the story of Jonah which has an unwritten ending, an unanswered question. Did Jonah ever repent of his anger and choose to love the repenting Ninevites? Not knowing how Jonah ends his story forces us to examine our own and consider where we fall short of compassion. It allows us to write the rest of the story based on who God is and how he acts.

Christ came to reveal the Father through his teaching and his works. He gave us enough clues to figure out what following him entails, what it means to love a community and love God. But not everything is laid out. Not every question is answered.

So the early church has to figure out the rest of the story according to Christ’s clues. It’s rough. It’s messy. Things have to be figured out on the fly. Adjustments are made and roles are created. The church evolves. I think we forget that the church was an infant in need of time to grow up and wrestle through the implications of Christ’s Kingdom in their cultural context. The priority was not to get everything right the first time. It was to listen to the Spirit only for what the next step should be. And every step was counter-cultural, even if a very small step.

History tells me we are still on the journey of more accurately understanding God’s thoughts and ways. Otherwise we wouldn’t have needed the Reformation. History tells me silence does not mean approval on the part of God. Otherwise we would be supporting slavery today. History tells me God gives space to our broken social structures that may change over time. Otherwise we would still be engaged in polygamy and concubinage.

As each generation reads the same words on the pages of the sacred script, a different story may emerge from their new perspective. This requires discernment of God’s invitation to a more mature faith, a more loving community, and a more powerful witness to the gospel. This is what the Jews in the Old Testament understood when the author of Chronicles reread Israel’s history recorded in Samuel, Kings and other accounts and then rewrote their history in light of their post-exilic context. The changes are subtle but the changes are there. Israel needed to move on and adopt new practices in their new situation.

A new perspective always invites a new reading. (Otherwise seminaries would quickly become obsolete.) This principle was pictured for me by a modern sculpture that I encountered in Washington, DC. The sculpture is an optical illusion in which the artist created a 3-D image of a corner of a house. But as you walk from one side to the other, the house appears to move and change in perspective. Each step forward requires reinterpreting the house you are observing. Perhaps the sculpture is a metaphor for Scripture. The words on a page don’t change but their interpretation may with each change in perspective. And each new, Spirit-illumined interpretation gets closer to the “new thing” Christ is making.

In this middle time between Eden and Eternity I believe God allows ambiguity, contradiction, unanswered questions and changes in the sacred script because he wants us as a faith community to wrestle with the unwritten script. It forces us to ask important questions of identity, both of God and ourselves. It requires that we seek the Kingdom of God and not our own kingdoms. And if Christ is the only one who most accurately represents the heart and character of God, then it demands that we see life, both people and circumstances, through the lens of Christ, through his life, death and resurrection. It is the gospel that guides us through the unwritten script of the middle place.

Perhaps in this middle time between Eden and Eternity, God the Father is growing humanity, like a child, toward maturity so that past systems, past cultural dynamics, past patterns are not what write our script but only Christ and his Kingdom. It is the vision of eternity that drives our story forward. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is heaven.

It is a Kingdom vision that drives my passion for mutuality and equality on earth. I believe it is time for all the church to grow up into what has always been present in heaven. It is time to reread the sacred script from our current perspective and take a step closer to our new creation.

Jesus is the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End. He is also the Middle. In the space between Eden and Eternity, our story is still being written. Who is writing it for you?

The Dance of Mutuality in Ephesians 5

I have revised and consolidated my previous three posts on Ephesians 5:21-33, "Deconstructing the Marriage Metaphor in Ephesians 5", into one post here in order to contribute to Rachel Held Evan's WEEK OF MUTUALITY. I encourage you to follow her as she makes a case for egalitarianism.

Metaphors are powerful. 

With a picture that’s worth a thousand words, a metaphor can translate the unknown and abstract into concrete and known. It gets our attention and engages our emotions and imaginations. However the meaning of a metaphor can be perplexing, especially when it’s used within an ancient cultural context.

Understanding metaphors takes work because they are imprecise by nature. The image demands patience as it invites us to a leisurely stroll around it, looking at the metaphor from all angles like a sculpture in a museum. It is a picture to be pondered, not to be passed over quickly without questioning assumptions and initial perceptions. Metaphors require thoughtful examination but they resist efforts to reduce it to a statement of facts or a dictionary definition. 

Like the one in Ephesians 5. 

By tradition, the metaphor in this passage has been reduced to a model and a mandate: The husband is the authoritative head to which the wife, his body, submits. In everything. Therefore the husband must be the spiritual leader of the home and the wife must be the respectful follower. Lately conservative interpreters have conceded to adding a halo of loving sacrifice on his head in connecting the husband to Christ in order to soften the current cultural resistance to submission. 

No mystery here. 

The problem is Paul says there is a mystery. In fact there is a PROFOUND MYSTERY. In verse 32 Paul explicitly ascribes it to Christ and the Church. But he also clearly links the mystery to the “one flesh” union of a husband and wife in verse 31. The quote from Genesis 2:24 occupies a special place in the immediate context which serves then to inform the head and body metaphor used by Paul. But before I address the significance of verse 31, let me back up to the previous verses and suggest an alternative understanding of those verses. 

In Ephesians 5:22-27 the relationship between the head and the body, or the husband and the wife, cannot be understood apart from the reigning paradigm of verse 21: “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” (Verse 21 supplies the verb “submit” for verse 22, which is verbless.) This verse is critical to understanding the rest of the chapter. 

Like a pair of reading glasses that have been left on the table for too many years, the verse has been ignored to the detriment to our understanding of the metaphor. Once the glasses are put on, you gain an alternative reading of Ephesians 5 and a vision of a mutuality that God intended from time of Genesis 1 and 2. Paul takes his command in verse 21 and fleshes it out in the following three spheres of relationships: marriage, parenting, and slavery. In each of these spheres, Paul applies the principle of mutual submission, which would have been counter-cultural to his audience. 

Let me start with the last and work my way back. Slaves submit by humble obedience and wholehearted service while masters submit by treating their slaves with kindness and fairness. Children submit by obeying and honoring their parents while fathers submit by not exasperating their children but instead by being involved in their nurturing. Assuming consistency, Paul also applies the principle of mutual submission to the husband and wife relationship.  

The issue at hand is not who is in authority but how we are to treat one another within the current cultural context of hierarchical relationships. Paul is not prescribing an authority structure (otherwise we would accept slavery today) but is fleshing out mutual submission within those relationships.  

Interestingly when Paul addresses the marital relationship, not much is offered as to how the wife submits to the husband. This is conjecture on my part but perhaps the readers of Paul’s day know fairly well what submission looks like for wives since they have been submitting for hundreds of years and that is why Paul’s instruction to wives does not need further explanation. 

What is new to his readers is the inference that husbands are to submit to their wives. So Paul spends more time on submission for a husband who seeks to follow Christ. Such a husband will love his wife like Christ loves the Church. That kind of love sacrifices for the other and puts the other before him. The words of Paul describe a kingdom-defining, culture-defying relational dynamic unknown to the typical first century Christian husband.  

However, care must be taken to not make the correlation between the husband and Christ too closely. A husband’s love cannot accomplish for the wife what only Christ can do. A husband does not make a wife holy – only Christ does. A husband cannot cleanse her through the word – only Christ does. A husband does not present his wife to Christ as a pure and blameless bride – only Christ does. Husbands are NOT like Christ in this way and the husband is NOT responsible for the wife’s spiritual state. This is an inappropriate extrapolation from the metaphor. In fact Paul has already stated that only Christ is the Savior of the church, which includes both husbands and wives.  

During the first few years of my marriage, I had a very clear picture of what I expected from Jon – a knight in shining armor come to rescue me from my slide into a spiritual pit where I was slowly losing my passionate love for Christ. I had hopes that Jon as my “head” would lead me back to Christ.   

That didn’t happen. And for good reason. Jon was not my “savior.”   

As my spiritual state deteriorated I began to panic. I did everything I could to avoid the slide down, digging my heels deep into the side of the hill through counsel, mentoring, reading, and praying. I tried to respond to Jon’s attempts to lead but he had his own spiritual journey and he didn’t know how to lead me. It was painfully awkward for both of us. When I gave birth to three sons in three years, our family devotions became child-friendly but not desperate-wife-friendly.   

I finally quit taking communion. That’s when it hit Jon that I was in deep spiritual trouble. He felt helpless. Seven years into our marriage I hit bottom and abandoned my faith in Christ.   

But Christ did not abandon me. With the help of a woman who eventually became my mentor, Christ revealed himself to me and I was transformed. That transformation not only impacted my journey with Christ but it also impacted my journey with Jon. We began a new dance.   

A dance of adults in which we individually took ownership of our own spirituality.   

A dance of equals in which we respected each other’s unique form of spirituality and leadership.   

A dance of lovers in which we shed our facades and grew in love and knowledge of each other’s true selves.   

A dance of full humanity in which we faced our weaknesses and leaned into each other’s strengths.  

In those years after my transformation, our dance was really awkward, at times painful as we stepped on each other’s toes. But with each passing year we got better at dancing. And it’s still getting better. Sometimes he leads and sometimes I lead. In our understanding of mutuality in partnership we believe the leader is the one who is stronger and more gifted. The follower is the one who humbly accepts limitations and trusts the other.    

Over time the dance has become smoother. It’s become more graceful. Thirty-three years later it’s definitely more fun!

So how IS the husband like Christ? If he is not the wife's savior, then how is he to love her? How does he "give himself up for her"?

Paul goes on in the next section, 5:26-33, to explain how the husband’s relationship with his wife correlates to Christ’s relationship with the Church introducing it by the phrase “in the same way.”

Paul takes the correspondence of husband-wife and Christ-Church to a deeper and more profound connection – the mysterious one flesh union. The head/body metaphor is not a model for setting the husband above the wife in authority or responsibility. It is a metaphor for unity, one that is founded on their marriage union as equal partners of grace in a relationship of mutual submission. Notice that Paul does not exhort the husband to become the head of his wife. He states what is the reality of marriage – the husband is connected to his wife as a head is to the body. 

For Paul, the mystery of this union is best pictured by a human body that is viewed holistically. Using a Jewish literary device called a chiasm, Paul connects the concrete metaphor of a head with its body to a theological mystery. (Many New Testament scholars acknowledge Hebraic or Semitic styles employed by the NT authors.) Here is how these verses are laid out as chiasm: 

(A)   husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. 

(B)    After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church—for we are members of his body. 

(C)   For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. 

(B)   This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church.

(A)  However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband. 

I believe many make a mistake in applying linear thinking to this passage of Paul’s writing. The main point is not at the end – husbands love your wives and wives respect your husbands. The main point is in the center, identified by the chiastic structure: A husband is to leave his family of origin and be united with his wife in a one-flesh union.

Surrounding the main point of the one-flesh union are the layers of implication. First, the one flesh marriage union is a picture of the “marriage” union of Christ to the Church, his Bride. It is as impossible to separate a husband from his wife as it is to separate Christ from his Church. 

Second, it is impossible for the husband to hurt his wife without hurting himself. A husband is united to his wife in a mysterious and organic way such that he must love his wife like it is assumed he loves himself. A husband’s headship is defined as a nurturing role of feeding and caring, not as a leadership or decision-making role. It is the same nurturing role described by Paul as defining Christ’s headship in Ephesians 4:15-16. 

If Paul had wanted to perpetuate a patriarchal model of marriage, it would have made more sense to appeal to the order of creation or the deception of Eve which he uses in 1 Timothy 2:13. Instead he appeals to a verse that defines the core of a marriage – the mysterious union of husband and wife where two individuals become “one flesh,” a metaphor that corresponds to the head-attached-to-body image. 

The relationship of the head to the body is not a function of authority but a function of unity and a necessity to life. You can cut off an arm or leg and you still have a body that lives. But cut off the head and you kill the body. Paul is exhorting husbands to embrace what has been true since the day the vows were exchanged and the marriage was consummated. A husband is connected to his wife in a mysterious union of one flesh, of one body. Therefore he must act out that union by submitting to his wife and loving his own “body” by giving himself up for her. A husband cannot treat the marriage as if he is independent of his wife.

I do not believe Paul is exhorting the husband to step into a role of spiritual leader (note: “lead” or “leader” is never used in this passage), but to step with his wife in a partnership of unity by connecting to his wife like a head needs to connect with its body. Disconnection from his wife hurts her, even “kills” her as it would if a person was beheaded. It will also "kill" him.

This is what it felt like for me during a very rough time in our marriage. Our dance had stopped. Jon was overwhelmed with fulltime teaching and parttime management of a program for the school district. He was hardly home.  

And I kept myself busy as well, first with homeschooling and later with seminary and church ministry. We quit spending time together just for fun and for romance. Jon was focused on juggling his work and his students and he was happy to have me take care of everything else. We were managers living as housemates in a disconnected dance.  

Finally one evening I told Jon I had lost my feelings of love for him. I told him the long-term disconnection left me numb and unable to respond to him with any feeling. I also assured him that I had no intention of leaving him. I was committed to our marriage. But I could no longer maintain my façade of happiness and needed to be completely honest. There were no demands, I said, just a deep desire for him to really know me, for him to know how empty and broken my heart was.  

It was terribly difficult for me to say these words to him. I knew it would hurt him deeply. Jon didn’t say much but with his eyes and his embrace, he received my words with grace and humility. And then in the following months he acted.  

Within one year our marriage was completely transformed and our hearts were reconnected. Our one flesh union was no longer just a theological statement but became a deeply felt reality. 

Paul’s metaphor for marriage is not a model or a mandate. It is a PROFOUND MYSTERY in its image of unity that cannot be fully explained but is intended by God to be experienced. This is true of both marriage and Christ and the Church. (If you want to consider something that will really blow your mind, especially if you still insist on equating headship with leadership, read Alan G. Padgett’s As Christ Submits to the Church where he argues servant leadership IS mutual submission.) 

Understanding of the head and body metaphor for marriage as a picture of unity rather than leadership makes more sense to me within the immediate context of Ephesians 5:21—6:9 as well as within the whole book where unity is a main theme. I offer this alternative understanding of Ephesians 5 to couples who want an alternative story for their marriage. I offer it to couples who actually live this kind of unity and co-leadership despite the story they have been told in the church. I respect the decision of those who choose to remain loyal to the traditional story but I suggest that a husband’s role of leadership be assigned by gifting and agreed to by mutual consent rather than a mandate based on a possible misreading of Ephesians 5. 

I read this quote recently: “Therapy is the art of changing a person’s controlling metaphor.” 

I want to offer a different controlling metaphor to those marriages which struggle with the burden of an oppressive interpretation of Ephesians 5. I think Henry Wadsworth Longfellow captures the intent of Paul’s metaphor in his poem, Song of Hiawatha, and offers a 19th century version of the metaphor:

 As unto the bow the cord is,  

So unto the man is woman; 

Though she bends him, she obeys him, 

Though she draws him, yet she follows; 

Useless each without the other!