Why 'Mutual Submission' Isn't an Oxymoron
"That makes absolutely no sense. If we're both submitting, who's actually in charge?"
I can't tell you how many times I've heard this objection when discussing mutual submission in marriage. The response usually comes with a slightly exasperated tone, as if I've just suggested that water flows uphill or that two plus two equals five.
The confusion is understandable. We've been so conditioned by hierarchical thinking that we literally cannot imagine relationships functioning any other way. Someone must be the boss. Someone must have the final say. Someone must be "over" someone else.
But what if our entire framework is wrong? What if the problem isn't with mutual submission—it's with our understanding of submission itself?
The Vocabulary Problem
Part of our struggle comes from how the English word "submission" has been weaponized in our culture. We hear "submit" and immediately think of defeat, surrender, or giving up our power to someone else. We picture the conquered bowing before the conqueror, the employee kowtowing to the demanding boss, the weak yielding to the strong.
But the Greek word Paul uses—hypotassō—carries a very different meaning. It's a military term that means "to arrange under" or "to organize in proper order." It's not about one person dominating another; it's about coordinated movement toward a common purpose.
Think of a symphony orchestra. The violins don't "submit" to the conductor because they're inferior to him. They coordinate with his direction because it creates something beautiful that none of them could produce alone. Each musician brings their unique gift, but they arrange themselves in proper order to serve the larger purpose.
This is hypotassō—voluntary coordination for mutual benefit.
The Dance Floor Revelation
I learned this lesson in an unexpected place: a dance class. Gregory and I decided to take ballroom dancing lessons early in our marriage (yes, we survived it!). I'll never forget our instructor's advice to the women in the class.
"Ladies," she said, "following doesn't mean you become a limp noodle. A good follower is actively engaged, contributing her own strength and grace to the dance. She's not being dragged around the floor—she's participating in creating something beautiful."
Then she turned to the men: "Gentlemen, leading doesn't mean forcing your partner to go where you want. A good leader creates a frame that allows his partner to flourish. He guides, but he also responds to her movements and adjusts accordingly."
That's when it clicked. Mutual submission in marriage isn't about both people becoming passive—it's about both people actively contributing to create something neither could achieve alone.
The False Dilemma
The objection "someone has to be in charge" reveals a false dilemma. It assumes there are only two options: hierarchy or chaos. But there's a third option that's far more beautiful and effective: partnership.
In true partnership, leadership is fluid and contextual. Who leads depends on the situation, the expertise needed, and the gifts each person brings. Sometimes I lead; sometimes Gregory leads. Most of the time, we lead together.
When we were buying our current home, I took the lead because real estate is my profession. When we're dealing with car trouble, Gregory leads because he understands mechanics far better than I do. When we're facing a spiritual decision, we seek God together and follow whoever receives clearer direction.
This isn't chaos—it's wisdom. It's recognizing that different situations call for different kinds of leadership and that neither of us has to carry the weight of being "in charge" of everything.
The Power of "Yes, And..."
In improvisational theater, there's a fundamental rule called "Yes, and..." Instead of blocking your partner's ideas, you accept what they offer and build on it. This creates collaborative creativity that's far more dynamic than any individual could produce alone.
This principle transformed our marriage. Instead of "No, that won't work" or "I'm the head, so we'll do it my way," we learned to say "Yes, and..."
"Yes, I hear what you're saying, and here's another perspective to consider." "Yes, that's a great idea, and what if we also tried this?" "Yes, I understand your concerns, and let's figure out how to address them together."
This approach doesn't eliminate disagreement—it transforms disagreement from a competition into a collaboration. We're not trying to win against each other; we're trying to find solutions together.
Breaking the Control Addiction
Here's something I've noticed: people who insist that "someone must be in charge" are often struggling with their own need to control. The idea of shared leadership feels threatening because it requires trust, vulnerability, and the willingness to be influenced by another person.
Hierarchical relationships feel safer because they create predictable patterns. The person "in charge" knows they can ultimately get their way. The person "under authority" knows what's expected of them. It's neat, clean, and orderly.
But it's also limiting, stifling, and often resentful. The person with authority may get compliance, but they rarely get creativity, enthusiasm, or genuine partnership. The person under authority may provide obedience, but they often withhold their best ideas, deepest insights, and fullest participation.
Mutual submission requires us to give up the illusion of control in exchange for the reality of connection.
The Multiplication Effect
One of the most surprising discoveries of our marriage has been how mutual submission multiplies our effectiveness rather than dividing it. When both people are fully engaged, contributing their gifts, and building on each other's ideas, the result is exponentially greater than what either could accomplish alone.
In mathematics, 1 + 1 = 2. But in marriage, when two people truly submit to each other, 1 + 1 often equals 5 or 10 or even 100. The synergy created by genuine partnership produces results that defy simple addition.
I see this in our ministry work. My business background combined with Gregory's pastoral heart creates resources that neither of us could develop alone. His theological depth balanced with my practical application produces materials that speak to both heart and mind.
When we write together, edit each other's work, and build on each other's ideas, the final product is always better than what either of us would have created independently.
The Biblical Precedent
This kind of partnership isn't a modern invention—it's modeled throughout Scripture. Look at the ministry teams Paul assembled: Priscilla and Aquila teaching together, Barnabas and Paul partnering in church planting, Timothy and Epaphroditus working alongside Paul in various capacities.
Notice that Paul doesn't establish hierarchies within these partnerships. He doesn't say "Barnabas is in charge" or "Timothy must submit to Epaphroditus." Instead, he celebrates how their different gifts complement each other and advance the Gospel.
Even more significantly, look at how Jesus worked with His disciples. Yes, He was their rabbi and teacher, but He also said, "I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you" (John 15:15, NIV).
Jesus moved His followers from hierarchy (master-servant) to partnership (friendship). This is the direction the Gospel always moves us—toward greater equality, greater mutuality, greater shared responsibility.
The Practical Question
"But practically speaking," someone always asks, "what happens when you can't agree? What do you do when you reach an impasse?"
Here's what we've learned: when we can't agree on something significant, it usually means one of three things:
We don't have enough information yet
The timing isn't right
God has a third option we haven't considered
Instead of forcing a decision through hierarchical authority, we wait. We pray. We seek counsel. We remain open to God showing us a better way.
This approach has never failed us. Sometimes it takes longer than we'd like, but the decisions we eventually make are always better than what either of us would have chosen alone.
For smaller decisions, we usually defer to whoever has the most expertise or whoever cares more deeply about the outcome. But these aren't permanent arrangements—they're contextual choices that can shift as circumstances change.
The Freedom Paradox
Here's the beautiful paradox of mutual submission: when both people are willing to lay down their "right" to be in charge, both people become more free, not less free.
The wife who doesn't have to fight for her voice can speak more freely. The husband who doesn't have to carry all the weight of decision-making can rest more fully. Both partners can focus on contributing their gifts rather than protecting their turf.
This freedom creates space for authentic intimacy, genuine creativity, and shared adventure. Instead of one person dragging the other along on their journey, both people get to participate in creating a journey neither could have imagined alone.
The Invitation
Mutual submission isn't the absence of leadership—it's the multiplication of leadership. It's what happens when two people decide to dance together instead of one person trying to drag the other around the floor.
It requires humility, trust, and the willingness to be influenced by someone else. It asks us to give up our addiction to control in exchange for the adventure of partnership.
For those who have only known hierarchical relationships, this might seem impossible or even dangerous. But for those who have tasted the freedom of mutual submission, there's no going back to the limitations of "someone has to be in charge."
The question isn't whether mutual submission works—it's whether we're brave enough to try it.
Have you experienced the difference between hierarchical relationships and genuine partnership? What fears come up when you think about mutual submission? What would it look like to approach your closest relationships as a dance rather than a power struggle? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
Blessings,
Susan 😊