Tug of War

Growing up, May was my least favorite month of the year. I hated the month of May with a passion. May stood for all that was painful, belittling, and difficult in life. I spent the whole year dreading May wishing that it would come and go and that somehow I might catch the chicken pox or have a tragic accident enabling me to miss the whole month. What could possibly be so bad about the month of May? I have but two words: Field Day.

May was Field Day month, which for those not from the South, is someone’s sadistic idea for torturing school-age children and calling it “fun.” I am not sure whose fun we are talking about. I certainly didn’t have fun. Every Field Day was the same. We went to school, took attendance, and then climbed aboard buses which took us to the local High School football stadium where we sat in the sweltering southern sun for the entire day without any shade or water. When we were not melting in the stands we were forced to participate in belittling games like the dizzy-bat race or the egg toss. I get motion sickness quite easily, but somehow this was something we all had to do in the name of fun. I don’t call sitting in the stands covered in raw egg, feeling like you are going to vomit fun. . . I told you this was some sadistic plot to torture children. Of all the games we “had” to play in the name of having a good time, my all-time least favorite was tug-of-war.

Every Field Day I hoped that someone would have given us a pass on tug-of-war. My class always seemed to be pitted against the older classes, virtual behemoths, Titans who tossed us mere mortals about like a yo-yo at the end of the string. Tug-of-war was my nemesis, the one event that seemed to strip me of any semblance of dignity before my fellow classmates. It is hard to find a seat in the cafeteria or a place on the kick-ball team after the whole school has just watched you be tossed about like a rag doll. Every year, there the rope lay, too large for my two hands to encircle, my tormentor and nemesis, beckoning me to yet another experience of shame and disgrace. Feeling the great indignity of that experience, I vowed that given the chance I would never again play tug-of-war.

You can imagine my chagrin when I discovered that not only had I not abandoned the game but that I was forcing Rachel to play it against me over and over again. I was making every day into Field Day and I didn’t even realize it. Really it was pretty subtle. I loved Rachel dearly and wanted what was best for her. I was willing to sacrifice and do whatever she needed. There was just one problem: me. What I mean is that I was willing to do all I could to make life about her but I expected that she do the same for me. I gave and as I gave so she was to give back to me, or so I expected. Actually, that is not really making life about her but just a twisted way of making life all about me. When I didn’t get what I expected out of her, what I felt I had “earned” by my own service, then I got mad and challenged her to a game of tug-of-war in which I would use my weight and strength to get what I wanted. It seems silly now, particularly when I recognize how unreal my expectations were, but it seemed so rational and logical in the moment. I never imagined that the shame I felt playing that stupid game I might be placing upon my wife.

When I finally realized what I was doing, I dropped the rope in horror but I was left with a haunting question: what about me? At first this seemed to be selfish, but with time I learned that this was an honest and probing question. Yes, what about me? If I make my life all about my wife, what about me? I have needs that are legitimate and God-given. What about me? My answer to this point had been to use my force and weight, to abandon my pursuit of living submissively with my wife so that my own needs could be met. I simply didn’t know any other way. The submissive life seemed to create a conundrum. I could meet the needs of another but in so doing my own real needs would go unmet. . .unless I abandoned the submissive life. As I sought after God, I began to realize that the conundrum was really of my own doing. I began to realize that the submissive life was not what kept me from the meeting of my own needs but what was necessary for the meeting of my needs. I had needs, needs which could only be met by living submissively. . .with my wife and with God. That last part has made all the difference.  What I have discovered is that it is not my wife’s job to meet my needs. She does not exist for me. I am not to try to be the center of her universe but rather I am to put her first in all things. However, this is not the end of the story, for I do not just do this with Rachel but I am to do it with God as well. He comes first. Surprise upon surprise, when I put him first I discover that he knows exactly what I need and he is willing to supply it. I don’t even have to invite him onto the field for a game of tug-of-war.

A fellow traveler,

Blake

What’s my next step?

We encourage you to consider engaging in the following as a way of handing off faith in your family.

Talk about a submissive life: Submission is a dirty word in our culture but it is a quality that marks the followers of Christ. This week, consider memorizing Ephesians 5.21 as a family. Talk about what submission means by considering Jesus as the preeminent example of one who led a submissive life (Mark 10.42-45 and Philippians 2.5-11). Talk about what submission looks like in your own context. You might consider talking as a family about opportunities you have each day to live submitting to the needs of others and what makes this difficult or easy. Conclude your discussions with times of family prayer, asking for the mind of Christ and the grace to live his submissive life.

We encourage you to consider engaging in the following as a way of deepening your own faith.

Memorize and meditate upon 1 Peter 5.6-7: Many of our marriage difficulties come from the presence of unmet expectations and our attempts to force our spouse to measure up to our expectations. This week consider spending some time memorizing and meditating upon 1 Peter 5.6-7. Spend some time thinking about your own personal needs and how you are attempting to meet them. Consider what Peter says about the meeting of our needs and the submissive life. Chat with God about what, if anything, keeps you from approaching him rather than others for the meeting of your needs. Ask him for the grace to come to him rather than others for the meeting of your needs.