“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus:
who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God,
but made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant.”
(Philippians 2:5–7)
Dearest Daughters,
Jesus showed us what true submission looks like. He laid aside His own godhood, and loved us from inside of our human weakness. He wasn’t above our suffering but entered into it. He clothed Himself in our human limitations, went through our temptations, and loved us from the confines of our humanity. He even submitted to the ultimate reduction of death itself, and through that submission, revealed to us that love is more powerful than the grave.
There is, however, yet another counterfeit version of this kind of true submission. It’s not rebellion in the obvious sense; it’s subtle and deceptive. It is the multiplication of a flurry of “good works” that we choose for ourselves. We fill our days with “this thing for the Lord” and “that thing for the Lord,” but underneath, we are really driven by our own will rather than obedience to God. These works become works of the flesh rather than the fruit of the Spirit, because we choose them for ourselves. On the surface, these works look admirable, like Christian, charitable works. We can spend entire days or even our whole life doing “good things” God never asked us to do, but He is not looking for busy appearances or lots of labor. He’s looking for obedient surrender to Him.
In God’s design, every person is given a place to submit to Christ’s lordship. This is a place where we can lay down our own works so that we might enter into His. That place is always going to be a service inspired by love.
It is a place where we can yield everything—our time, our ambitions, our dreams, and even our identity—to Him, so that He might reign as Lord over what is already His.
This is the beauty of Christ’s body. His body gives each member a place to come under the rule of the same Head and to offer our small piece of creation back to Him in submission to His lordship through our obedience.
If we would follow in Jesus’ steps, we are asked to take up our cross and carry it. True submission begins when we can say, “I will get inside this situation and love the way God would love. I will do for this person what the Lord Himself would do.” When we live that way, submission becomes a mission.
Yet when we resist that design and decide that what God has given us to do is too small for who we think we are, then we begin to see Him as harsh and demanding. We may not say it outright, but we begin to feel as though God is an austere master, reaping where He has not sown and asking more than we can give. This feeling usually comes when we have not invested where He asked us to invest, but in the works we would like to do, that further our own ambitions.
Jesus told a story about a master who entrusted his servants with talents—sums of money to care for in his absence. Two of them invested and multiplied what they were given. But one servant refused. To him, the task seemed too small and unworthy of his time and energy. He buried it, and when the master returned, he said, “I knew you were an austere man.” But the truth was, his view of the master had become twisted because he hadn’t entered into the work of God with joy.
This happens to us, too, when we view, in our small-mindedness, our work as invisible, and feel that raising children, tending a home, serving a husband is insignificant. But when we neglect those divine callings, they become heavy burdens rather than gifts from God. However, when we invest all of our love in those same tasks, they become a joy. Maybe the things we view as bondage will become an honor and participation in God’s kingdom. The small things we thought didn’t matter become a privilege when we do it for Him.
If you want to know what really matters, think of someone who’s just learned she has a short time to live. If she’s a dental hygienist, she doesn’t suddenly wish she’d cleaned more teeth. The accountant doesn’t regret not balancing just a few more ledgers. Even the doctor doesn’t lie awake wishing he’d performed a few more surgeries. No, the heart immediately turns to love—to family, relationships, to the moments that were eternal. We all know this deep down. God placed eternity in our hearts, so that even those who live distracted lives of their own choosing, will often see clearly when death draws close.
This is why God calls us to invest in the places of love now, not later. Every unseen act of service can become a way that we can wash the feet of Christ’s Body. Our service can be an altar where we offer up our own time and ideas, so that His life might flow through ours.
But submission isn’t bowing your head in defeat or “tucking your tail.” It is yielding to a higher purpose, to the flow of God’s design. When I think of yielding, I often think of the expressway that runs through our town. There’s a ramp that enters it, and at its end, a sign: Yield. You can’t stop completely there, or the cars behind will crash into you. But you can’t rush forward blindly either, or you’ll collide with the traffic already in motion. You have to watch and listen to those ahead, beside and following close behind, and you find the rhythm and speed already existing on the freeway, and jump in!
That’s how submission works in the Spirit. You don’t freeze, and you don’t force it. You tune in to God’s timing and the movement of others in His plan, and you merge. You move forward at His pace, constraining yourself to the larger flow of His will. Yielding is not stopping or crashing. It’s finding that balance where life flows in harmony with God’s will and purpose.
When you live this way, even the smallest work of service becomes part of the “works that He had prepared” for us. Even the humblest places of washing dishes or changing diapers can be moments of worship and gratitude. And your heart will start to find the peace that comes when love and obedience are one and the same.
With all my love,
Mom