Strength in Submission

I’m no expert on relationships. I am in a relationship and everyday it’s an adventure. She would probably tell you that I succeed and I fail. That I do a good job at truly loving her, and other times I’m just short of being the biggest jerk she’s met. Truly it is an adventure.

            But what I’ve discovered in my relationship is something that I hope to apply to the other relationships in my life. To my friends, my family, and my significant other, I’ve found that I need to constantly be giving up control and power. Constantly, I need to submit.

            Submission is a word I think a lot of us fear. The ideology behind submission has been used to hurt people, to conform them into someone else’s “more correct/powerful” way of living. Some think submission means the giving up of one’s individuality. For some reason, a lot of people (including myself sometimes) view submission as weakness.

            However, I understand the Bible to say something contrary to these common thoughts. I understand the Bible as calling all people to submit, and true strength comes in submission.

            For instance, look at Ephesians 5:21-25.  The passage begins by saying “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Paul is giving a simple command: lay down your wants and needs for those around you, serve one another, love another, and do all this out of respect and remembrance of Christ.  Essentially, this is Paul restating Christ when he said in John 15:13, “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

As Rob Bell says in his book Sex God, “Die to yourselves so that others can live; [just] like Jesus.” Laying down your life doesn’t always mean nailing your physical body to a cross; it can mean nailing your self desires to a cross as well.

            The passage in Ephesians continues with a verse largely misinterpreted. Many sermons highlight this verse only to talk of the supposed submissive nature of women. However, something more powerful is going on here. Paul continues: “Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the savior.” So wives are to submit to their husbands. However, they are to do no different than what everyone else is commanded to do! For all people are to submit to one another in reverence of Christ.

But what then does this mean for the males? Look at what Paul says in the latter part Ephesians 5:23. The husband is to be to the woman as Christ is to the church. In other words, husbands are supposed to “love [their] wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.”

               Interesting. The husband’s headship doesn’t come from the fact that he is male. His headship comes from his giving himself up as Christ did. And how did Christ give himself up? In the surrender of his will, his desire for himself, and in his death.

            So the wife is suppose to submit to the husband, the husband, in turn, is supposed to lay down his life for his wife, but they’re both to submit to everyone in reverence of Christ.

            What you have, then, is everyone submitting to everyone else.

            Like Bell, when I have this discussion with people, I find that men struggle with it the most. Inevitably the question comes up: “But if I’m submitting to her and she’s submitting to me, what happens when someone in the relationship has to make the tough decisions? Who’s in charge then?”

            When I think of the relationship I have with my best friend (that meaning my male friend), I never have to ask myself who’s in charge. When we hang out together, there’s no pre-game chat of deciding who is going to make the decisions today. Over time, we’ve built up trust for one another. We have a mutual friendship.

            I think the same goes for dating/married relationships. The deeper that the two grow towards one another, the more trust they’ll have in each other. The more a couple practices in what Bell calls “mutual submission”, the more they’ll lose track of who’s in charge. This is Bell’s line of reasoning, and I can’t help but agree.

Some people have problems believing in the supernatural...and honestly...I don't blame them. Things that transcend our understanding nature, or miracles, make no sense what so ever. There's no formula, rhyme, or reason why or how these miracles work. Some people have such trouble believing in anything supernatural, because of the lack of consistentacy, that they disvalue any sort of miracles. 

Maybe you've heard of a group called the Jesus Seminars. This group, many scientists, also had trouble believing in miracles. Miracles, in their understanding, could not be tested...so it had no realistic value. This group used these ideals and responded by meeting together a couple times to decide what about scripture was authentic. Anything that was miracle based, and therefore unrealistic, was taken out of the gospels. When they had gotten done, (and I'm estimating here) only around 40% of what Jesus said and did was left in the gospels.

 Some say miracles are based on prayer, and yet I have seen thousands of knees drop for a miracle that didn’t occur...

...and...many of you who read this know very well that hundreds dropped knees in prayer saved the lives of two kids...you know this because many of you dropped that knee. So before I move into talking about anything, can I first say...thank you...

Thank you to my 2004 classmates who prayed continually but especially that night at homecoming two years ago. Thank you to my friends in Illinois, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, South Carolina, North Carolina, Maryland, Indiana...all of you who prayed for the lives of two kids...thank you so much. I hope that you are able to recognize the magnitude of what you did that day, which you participated in the spiritual practice of those across the country. Thank you.

So, as I promised, here is post two. My hope is that you who read this don't see greatness in me. There is nothing really special about me other than that I am Jon Marcus. I'm not more "spiritual" than others, and I don't even consider myself holy. Often times in the scriptures, Jesus was asked to perform a miracle to prove He was the Christ...and every time he denied the people asking. Instead, Jesus did miracles to show His audience that the Kingdom of God was here. This story, hopefully, will just show that the Kingdom of God is here...that there is nothing uniquely special about me in this story.

 This will be a hard story to swallow for some, and maybe I am delusional. Or...maybe because you've seen with your own eyes...this story will be very true for you.

*             *                    *                  *

I was in and out, waking up and falling back asleep throughout the course of Saturday and Sunday. I remember seeing friends that came in, some giving me stuffed animals (that I still own!), some giving me just tearful smiles of joy...and every girl apparently giving me a kiss on the cheek. I found out that weekend morphine does some CRAZY stuff to your character! However, I don't even remember every person that stopped in. In fact, besides my parents, my little brother, two friends who dropped off the stuffed animal, and my girlfriend then at the time...I don't remember ANYONE that stopped in.

As I woke up little on Sunday, I began to become very aware of my surroundings. In ICU (intensive care unit), the rooms weren't separated by walls...they were separated by curtains. This meant that any groan of pain and agony, any news a doctor was telling another patient, or any tears from observers in that room could be heard. My mom was with me, by my bedside most of the time in the hospital. It's amazing what you cling too when you cannot see or feel or do for yourself. The instinct that I had from birth kicked in. I clinged to my mom.

As she was sitting next to my bed sometime on Sunday, I overheard the tears of someone in the next room. I asked mom if she knew what was going on. The tube was out my throat at this point, and though I was speaking soft, it was still a joy to speak. She began to explain to me that next to me was a couple, a man and a woman, both of whom were in a motorcycle accident.

"What are their names?" I asked. Tabitha and John.

"What happened to them?" Mom told me how John was riding his motorcycle up towards Greenville, very close to where Brett and I's car accident occurred. He was going up over a hill when he and accelerated around a car into the fast lane. What John couldn't see, from the blocked view of the hill, was that cars in front of him at stopped for because of traffic. John slammed on his breaks, but it was too late. He slammed into the back of a van. His wife was thrown from the motorcycle, flying into the thick grass that was in the median of the road. John lay unconscious near his now totaled motorcycle, laying at the rear of the van.

They air vaced John to Columbia, and after getting him into a "stable" condition from the ER, was put into the room right beside me. Tabitha...she was basically uninjured. She sustained some cuts and bruises; however she was walking and responding fine. She had no concussion. For some reason, Tabitha walked away more or less cleanly from that car accident.

Her husband did not.

John, after being in a coma for a day, woke up to find that he had lost all motor functions.

"What exactly does that mean" I remember asking.

Mom explained to me that John couldn't move, couldn't speak. He had a sideways movement he was doing with his legs, and he could blink. Other than that, John did not have the ability to show any signs of life. Basically, John was awake and could think (possibly) but was unable to express this in ANY way. He was trapped inside of a prison that was his body. The saddest part, however, was what the doctors were telling her. John would only begin to have his motor skills returned to him with long rehab sessions, and this would possibly take months if years to complete. John would never truly be the same.

And all this talk of John's motor skills returning, it was only a low chance it would occur.

His wife was in shambles. She had no way of communicating with her husband. Mom explained to me that she talked to her a couple times. She was in her early 30's, and had been married to John for a couple years now. They had both at one time been Christians, but for one reason or another found that God was not relevant to them. Mom explained to me, however, that Tabitha was now expressing her regret for falling away from her faith, claiming that if she had not, maybe this wouldn't have happened. She was found crying and praying over her husband. This is how I found her.

 Mom told me she had told Tabitha my story. Mom told her I was a Christian, that I was studying to be in ministry. I was supposed to be dead; I was supposed to be paralyzed. People prayed for me, and here I was alive. Mom told her to have hope, good will come. Mom explained to me, that though Tabitha wanted to believe, the scene before her proved otherwise.

Tabitha and mom talked from time to time, I guess as two women who had a similar connection in a time of utter crisis. One time, Tabitha was invited by my mom to come in and meet me because I was awake.

"Your mom told me all about you, and what happened. It is a miracle that you're here!" Tabitha said to me.

I glanced up to her and told her thank you. And then, I did something that I had done for Jerry. I did something that just seemed to flow out of me as a breath of air. I asked Tabitha how her husband is doing.

"He's still here. Just...not really here. He'll be ok though..."

I asked if it was ok if I prayed for her. Tabitha, with tears in her eyes, said yes. I took her one hand in both of mine, closed my eyes, and began to speak.  I forget exactly the words I used, but I remembered that I prayed for her husband. I prayed that he would be able to speak to his wife, that he would just be able to talk to her some, let her know that he was ok. I prayed that he would live.

The prayer was short. I barely even remember it. I remember that Tabitha was crying when I was done. She thanked me, thanked my mom and gave her a hug, and walked away. I fell back asleep.

Monday morning the doctors cleared me to move out of ICU. That in itself was a miracle. They told my mom I'd be there for at least two weeks. I was in ICU from Friday night till Monday morning. I'll never forget the ride out of ICU. I was lying on the bed as they wheeled me out. I was rolled past burnt victims, stab wounds, paralyzed people, those who just had a stroke. I shut my eyes after just a couple mins of this scene. I had never seen anything scarier in my life.

Monday night, after watching the Redsox lose game three of the ALCS, I remembered asking my mom what happened to John.

"Oh, good news actually. John woke up Monday morning and met with the doctors. He was able to talk to them, Jon. It wasn’t much, but he shoke their hands. And, he was able to talk to his wife. She stopped by earlier when you were asleep to see you. The doctors were appalled; he wasn’t supposed to do any of this for at least another couple months."

And then mom added in her normal truthful, spiritual phrase: "God is good."

*                *                            *                         *

It's been two years.

Every person has a story. When I'm trying to get to know people, I sometimes ask the question, "What's the hardest situation in life you've had to overcome". For some reason, it's these situations that define you. I was always taught in football that you really know how good you are when you're beat down and tired, and yet still need to push on.

Persevere ...

A year ago I said that I would type the stories surround my car accident in my xanga blog. Over the next three weeks, I wanna tell three stories. Maybe some of you have heard them, maybe you haven't. Maybe I'm writing these stories more out of my need, so that I never forget. I never want to forget.

                              *            *                *             *

I woke up sometime saturday afternoon (as I would later find out). You ever hear the phrase, "you're afraid of what you don't know," or "You're scared of what you can't see"? Well, it's very true. My sight was, for some reason, very diminished. I might have been able to see 4 feet in front of me. I had "tunnel vision", that is to say that I couldn't view anything in my preriphal view; it was nothing but white fuzz. I tried to move my hands and my feet...I couldn't. My mom suddenly came into the end of my five foot view. I tried to speak, but was hushed by my mom and told not to speak. I found out that I couldn't do that either.

I looked at my mom, trying to speak, trying to ask her what had happened. I was hushed and calmed down, obviously frustrated from my lack of ability to move or speak. I was given a note pad, where I began to scracth out questions with a tiny pencil, my wrist still attached to the bed.

I ask my mom where was I? "In the hospital. You were in a bad car accident".

As I began to fastly realize my situation...the fuzzy lights around me, the beeping monitor, the tube down my throat, my inability to move or talk...my next question brought tears to my eyes. I scratched the words out on the pad: "Am I going to die?"

"No, hunny. You're going to be fine."

It was only later that I found out my full condition. I was restrained to a hospital bed. My feet and arms were tied down to the bed, enabling me to move or flail my limbs, as apparently this would have done me some damage. I had a plastic tube down my mouth, into my throat, barely reaching my lungs; it was helping me breath.

I had a partially clasped lung, another lung that had filled been filled with blood, L1 (lower back) and C1 (neck bone) compression fractures. I was blessed to make it through the night. I was blessed to to not be paralyzed from the neck down...or the waste down for that matter. Rob Bell once said that what we know as miracles are how "things are suppose to be." For some reason, that night, i got a taste of the Kingdom of God.

Which proved itself to be prudent. I'll never forget the next memory. The next 48 hours I was in and out, functioning between awake and asleep. I was told there were MANY people who came to see me. I remember six people...maybe. It wasn't until Sunday night that I had woken up completely. The medical staff there seemed right on top of their game, because the first moment I can remember waking up...someone came in to see me.

It was a male nurse. His name was Jerry.

He ask me how i felt, and i probably groaned. I remember him telling me that if I wanted, there was a button next to my hand that would control the morphine intake. If i pressed the button, morphine would go into my body. Supposedly, he told me, patients do better when they control their medicine. He walked away for a moment.

I began to press the morphine button repeatedly.

I never had such a splitting headache. Jerry came back in and laughed at me. "The morphine will only work every 30 mins. So you can stop pressing it if you want!"

And then, he did something that I will never forget. I was lying in my bed, the restraints off my body, yet i was unable to move. I was sore and tired, and my head felt like someone slapped me upside the head with a baseball bat. Jerry told me that he was going to wash me.

Jerry was going to remove the gown I was wearing, making me completely naked, and then was going to precede to wash my body. Jerry looked young. I think he was in his twenties. He didn't seem to enjoy the job at all, and yet...he began to dip his cloth into a bucket and rinse and wash my body off with this warm rag. He washed my legs, my crotch area, and my chest.

I began to cry.

I had begun to realize the fullness of where I was. I almost died in a car wreck, and I was lying in the middle of ICU. All around were people with burnt faces, missing limbs, or paralyzed bodies. And here is where Jerry choose to work. And not only did Jerry choose to work here, He choose to wash my body.

My body that was filthy with sweat, and still some blood from the car wreck. Jerry washed my body when I couldn't wash myself. Every inch of me he washed, in the most nonsexual way. And I began to cry. Here I was, completely helpless in a state of need. I was dirty, smelly, and sweaty...and it was in this condition that Jerry began to wash my body.

Why was I crying? Because in my weakest state, God gave me an image of His Son that I will NEVER forget.

That this man, who might have been rejected from his peers (being a male nurse I'm sure isn't exactly the proudest job), would wash my body, nonsexual, when I was unable. That it was something i desperately needed, yet I didn't even ask for. He wiped away all the filth on my body and made me clean.

As Jerry got done, he got up to walk away. I called him back over to me. With kindness in his eyes, he walked over to my bedside. I grabbed Jerry's hand, and thanked him repeatedly. I thanked him for doing something he probably didn't enjoy doing. In the midst of my tears, I thanked Jerry for showing me Jesus Christ.

Jerry smiled down upon me, and then walked away. Within minutes, I fell back into a deep sleep.

                           *                  *                *                 *

I'm back...

The first thing that you might notice in this most current post is that it does not look like the previous few. I did not start out with some bible verse to teach from..

Instead, I want to just write to each of you from normal speech.

Yes, it took a while for me to return. It was an interesting summer, with many things that I have learned. I don't really want to begin to write all that I took in; there are two reasons for this. First, as I have grown so has the development of this xanga site. Lord knows how many people read my site, or how many of my faithful readers have become aliens to my this site since my proclamation of not writing. However, if you were to look back at the previous xanga posts, maybe even the first post, you would see a different style of writing than which you see now. I don't write much "journal like" posts anymore. NOT that there is anything wrong with them, I enjoy reading those of you that posts like that! But, as I said, as I have grown and evolved, so has my site.

 Second, well...what fun would it be to divulge all the fun I've had over a three month period in one post??! (Those of you who know me well, and know that i annoyingly at times leave people in suspense over what to you may seem pointless information to leave people in suspense about...you may all let out a collective sigh)

My hope however, is that you see/hear the same voice. I hope that each of you that read this site may see the heart from which I write from. I don't want to dangle elegant words in front of you as if you were some dimwitted animal being lead astray and soon to the slaughter. Instead,I want this site to function as two things.

First, for each of you that read this,I want my site to be an open forum. I hope that the times that I teach, or the times that I just write, that they inspire you to ask questions. I hope that the Spirit that speaks through me leads your soul on a journey of never ending questions. I hope my site equips each of you with a shovel to dig deeper into the rough ground that is called truths, in hopes of eventually knocking the tip of your spade against a diamond.

Second, I wish to use this site as a extension of what I am learning throughout my daily life. In my mind, this site is used to not only have my thoughts written down, but also to display the questions that I am asking out to the networks of people surrounding me. I did not pretend to think that I have some well educated idea on what is going on in everything around me. I don't wish to "teach" from a pedestal of knowledge as if I wore teaching to you. Instead, I hope to be teaching from you. I have found that if I am not in conversation with those around me, than the fight that I am so desperately want to win will soon become futile.

There are issues, questions which I wish to dive into very soon. However, before I begin, I just felt like putting my disclaimer out once again. Be aware of what I have to say on this site. I am a junior in college, with no seminary degree, and with a bare grasp on what I believe is going on the culture around me. However, I do believe that God is speaking to me, as He is (or is desperately attempting) to speak to each one of you.

So as I dig into truth, will you please journey with me? It is important for me to know that there are others searching for the face of the Truth. This "kingdom" that you here me speak so much of...it doesn't exist as individual people

Let's bring in this kingdom, as it was, and as it still is...