Yoga pants won’t do.

Yoga pants won't do.

Watching my husband run around happily vacuuming and straightening up the house yesterday The Lord spoke to me. After the I wiped the drool from my chin and took a birth control pill I started to listen ….

“He takes pride in things he loves. ”

I’ve wanted to write a blog on healthy submission, but I’ve never felt like it was right until now. It’s been pressing on my heart heavily and I want to share a few things I’ve learned this year about being submissive to my husband and most importantly to The Lord.

A healthy relationship with any person is not about control. It’s not about one person being more dominant than the other. If this is the case, this is not a relationship at all, instead it’s a dictatorship.

I’ve been guilty time and again of not using my brain.

” Lord tell me exactly what to do in this situation.”

Or with Matt.

” Should I do this this way or that way?”

Don’t get me wrong. I ask my husband before making important decisions, and I ask Jesus for wisdom daily.

But doesn’t his spirit dwell in me? My flesh does too, but what I’m seeking lately is that his love for me will overflow into my heart and out my mouth. It will be clear in my decisions and mindset that my thoughts are his. Because I’ve allowed him room.

I’ve had to tone it down some this year. And by tone it down I mean hand my husband a rein. With great opposition comes an opportunity to either become stronger or weaker.

I chose stronger. I chose to kick satans ass and take some names. I may have been knocked down a few times, but I got back up. I gained this newfound assurance that HE that is in me is mighty. Is capable.

I learned I could trust him and walk with him without fear.

But one night on a date Matt says with grace to me:

“You’ve changed a lot. You’re not so quiet anymore. ”

At first I was quite offended. I began listing why I was acting that way. Why I had a newfound right to be bold and courageous. I had earned it right? I had to prove to everyone I was strong and fearless. Even my husband. I started crying right there in the middle of the restaurant . The waitress came to offer me more wine and I couldn’t even respond. When this happens call 911.

I went to the bathroom and collected myself . After all I had done my hair and my makeup took at least five minutes. I still hadn’t taken a date night selfie, I knew that was ruined. Maybe next time in 7 years when we get another one.

When I sat back down we sat there in silence for a few minutes. That’s always the worst kind of fight where you feel like you might loose your Greek salad with extra dressing. Eventually we started talking.

The point of his comment I later realized was to say that I don’t have to prove to him that I am strong. He saw it. He knows it. So why was I acting like such a dictator? I’m learning that by ourselves we have strength. We both have qualities that are equally great. But together we are a team.

THAT is where I needed to submit to my husband. To meet him halfway . And let him handle the rest . We don’t need to put on any kind of show for our spouses . It only creates division in the end.

When we make decisions just for ourselves, and call it Gods will we end up hurting the well being of those who love us. When I stepped up and made the choice for our family to move into a 200 year old farm house , my husband agreed because he loves me. My happiest is important to him, but in the end everyone was hurt. I became very ill, and he became very frustrated .

Lesson learned.

A few weeks later The Lord told me I would speak somewhere. Share a small portion of things that had happened to our family this year and a little of my writings. I would share his redemptive love to people that needed to hear my story. It made me gulp a little and want a glass of wine or 8 , but he was preparing my heart for what’s coming.

I hadn’t pressed the issue with him very much, but just rested in the knowing that He would tell me what to do next in his own time. He always does.

I’m doing laundry yesterday and Matt comes in with this nasty pile of clothes. I mean there was dirt and muck and possibly a few STD’s on this lump of clothes. He tells me he found these on our new property. I look at a few labels. All designer clothes. XS, my size. It’s a dress shirt , pair of dress pants, a cardigan and a nice purse.

” Yoga pants won’t do .”

Oh. Funny Jesus . You mean I can’t speak In front of people with snot on my sweatshirt ?

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