Wives, in the same way submit yourselves to your own husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives…
Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have….
1 Peter 3:1, 15 (NIV)
In my upcoming book I share the story of how as a young man I believed with certainty that I was supposed to become a pastor, and how God made clear that He had purposed for me a quirky career analyzing business phone calls (a la “This Call May Be Monitored”).
My mother was greatly disappointed by the abrupt change in my vocational trajectory. My mother was a sweet lady. She was never given to overt confrontation. She was, however, an expert at letting her concerns made known through what she thought were subtle messages that we as her children could see coming a mile away.
As least once a year, sometimes more often, my mother would wait for us to be having an enjoyable casual conversation.
“Are you ever going to go back to ministry?” she would ask quietly.
Only, it really wasn’t that quiet. She asked the question repeatedly. It was always the same question. She never heard my answers above the din of her own internal fear.
I know my mother loved me. I know she was proud of me. I also know she had her heart set on me spending my career in vocational ministry. I don’t think she ever shook her angst that perhaps I was outside of God’s will. I think she loved having a son who was a preacher.
And boy, did she remind me. Again. And again.
My mother was not alone. Along my life journey, I have observed many well-intentioned parents perpetually express their spiritual concern for their adult children to their adult children. It comes in many different forms.
The annual Christmas gift of a Bible or the latest, bestselling devotional, testimonial biography, or that popular Christian movie.
[cue: Children’s eye roll]
The letter (or email) of concern because “you just have to know how I feel” or, “What we believe.”
Children: “Seriously, do you actually think I don’t know how you feel?”
The passive aggressive comments, questions, and not-so-casual asides that get slipped into almost every conversation.
Followed by hurt and wonder when the adult children, inexplicably, don’t seem to want to hang out all the time.
Today’s chapter begins with a statement that creates such surface angst and outrage in modern culture that the principle of what Peter is getting at is easily lost. He starts by telling wives who are followers of Jesus to submit to their husbands “so that they may be won over without words.”
“Without words…”
Behaviors that speak louder than words.
Life example that shows the way like metaphorical bread crumbs.
Trusting God with the soul of my loved one — and recognizing that my fear may say more about my faith than about their future.
What’s often lost in the cultural outcry of Peter’s encouragement is that Peter isn’t singling out women or wives. He is calling on everyone who is a follower of Jesus to be an example of Jesus to those in their circle of influence “without words.”
Slaves (2:18)
Husbands (3:7)
All of you (3:8)
Peter then goes on to write what is a well-known and well-worn instruction:
“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have…”
But the context that Peter has established is that a person is asking me the reason for the hope that I have ibecause my life, my behavior, my relationships, and my example have made them curious…
…without using words.
The wise teacher of Ecclesiastes said, “there is a time to speak, and a time to be silent.” (Ecclesiastes 3:7)
When our daughters were young, it was time for me to speak. I taught. I answered. I guided.
When they became adults, it was time for me to learn silence.
They know what I believe. They grew up in my home.
They know desire for them to believe. I made my heart known long ago.
They know they can always talk to me. They bring it up when they’re ready.
In the meantime, I continue to walk my own journey. I pray for them. To Peter’s instruction, I remain ready and available to assist and provide as needed. To answer when asked. To speak when spoken to. Otherwise, I do my best to continue to model the spiritual life and relationship with Jesus that I would love for them to experience…without words.
And then, in the quiet, I surrender to Jesus any notion I have that their relationship with Him has to look exactly like the relationship I have with Him. I surrender my desire for their relationship with Him to be exactly what I desire for it to be. I let go of my desire to think that their stories should look like my story, or the story I would write for them if I was God…if I was in control.
And, that’s the point Peter is getting at.
I’m not in control of others whether it’s a boss, spouse, parent, friend, or child. I don’t write their stories. I don’t know the story God is authoring in their stories, nor has God ever asked me to be a co-author.
He asks me to love.
He asks me to pray.
He asks me to live as such an example that he can leverage that as a theme as He writes their own personal, individual stories.
He asks me to be ready with words —
but to live so faithfully that the question comes before the speech.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
