I had a friend once who liked to say that: “Submit!” Sometimes he would use the accompanying hand motion, which looked a lot like the hand-waving you see Benny Hinn do.

But tonight, in chapel, a faculty member put submission in stark relief for me. “Imagine a conversation in heaven, about 2000 years ago.” He went on to point out that Jesus had every right to say, “As compelling as I find your offer, I will respectfully decline. I think I’ve earned this spot at your right hand, and these divine duds fit me to a T. I realize the pain they’re in; I hear what you’re hearing. But why should I bother? Thanks, Father, but no thanks.”

Thankfully, Jesus didn’t do or say that. Instead, he emptied himself of all that was his and put on skin. And as if that wasn’t enough, he let human beings whose worship he had the right to demand nail him to one of the cruelest implements of death ever devised.

And yet I can’t seem to get enough of saying I deserve this or that or better. I want my cake, yours, and anybody else’s I can get my hands on. In fact, forget the TPS reports, if you’d make the cake and deliver it to me without requiring any effort on my part . . . that’d be great. Thanks, Peter.

That’ll have to do for now. My nine-months-pregnant wife would like some attention. And who can blame her?

It’s her right.:)


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