Things I Wish My Family Knew

There’s a passage I’ve wrestled with through much of my adult life:

 “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God.” — Romans 13:1

Paul wrote that while living under the iron rule of Rome. He wasn’t naïve—he knew the cruelty and corruption of power—but still, he said be subject.

That word “subject” comes from the Greek ὑποτάσσω (hypotassō), meaning “to arrange oneself under the order of another, to yield in recognition of rightful authority.” It describes an attitude—a willing respect for structure and for those God has placed over us. That’s submission.

By contrast, obedience—from the Greek ὑπακούω (hypakouō)—means “to comply, to carry out a command, to do what is asked or ordered.” Obedience is an action, a response to a specific command.

So you see, submission is an attitude of respect toward authority, while obedience is an act of compliance with its commands. We are called to maintain a spirit of submission toward all authority God has placed over us—but our obedience is limited by our higher allegiance to Him. And sometimes, you can’t do both at the same time.

Everyday Tests

When I was in the Marine Corps, I learned that tension firsthand. As a Marine officer, I was both under authority and of authority. There was a certain ease in knowing that I simply needed to follow the orders of those over me. Yet beneath that ease lay a quiet unease—an awareness that one day, an order might come that was unlawful. I used to wonder, Would I recognize it? Would I have the courage to disobey it—and suffer the consequences?

And just as important, I came to understand that the authority I carried over those under my command was itself limited. My authority extended only as far as I remained in harmony with the lawful orders given to me and the law as defined in the Uniform Code of Military Justice. The moment I stepped outside that boundary—if I issued a command contrary to law or my superiors’ lawful intent—my authority evaporated. I might still have rank, but I would have no moral or legal right to obedience.

That realization taught me something about the very nature of power: only God’s authority is absolute; every human authority is provisional. Earthly authority is delegated, temporary, and answerable to the One who gave it. God rules by right; men rule by permission. The moment human power contradicts divine truth, its legitimacy ends. That’s why Paul could command believers to submit “for conscience’ sake”—because conscience is tethered to God’s throne, not man’s. True authority, I learned, is not ownership of power but stewardship of responsibility. Even those who lead are themselves led. All earthly authority is borrowed from a higher hand.

As a Marine officer, I also learned that the best leaders were those who had first learned to be great followers. I understood that in part at the time, but only later did I see the fuller meaning. Good leaders are those who recognize Lex Rex—that the law is king—and that their own leadership stands only as they themselves submit to the absolute law of God, the Lawgiver. Leadership divorced from obedience to divine authority becomes tyranny; leadership rooted in submission to God becomes service. The strength of a commander, a father, or a ruler is measured not by how many obey him, but by how faithfully he obeys God.

That’s the heart of Paul’s teaching. We live in that tension every day: respecting authority while being answerable to a higher command. The uniform didn’t make me righteous; obedience to truth did. Submission was part of discipline, but discernment was part of conscience.

That lesson stays with you long after you hang up the uniform. You’ll live under authority all your life—in the home, in the church, and in the world. God designed every circle of life to reflect His order.

In the home, husbands and wives live in a pattern that mirrors Christ and His Church.
The husband bears responsibility to lead in love, never in pride; to use his strength not for control but for sacrifice. The wife’s calling is to come alongside with willing submission—not out of weakness, but out of faith that honors God’s design. When both live under the Lord’s authority, their marriage becomes a living testimony of grace and harmony.

Children, too, are under authority. Scripture says, “Honor your father and your mother,” not because parents are perfect, but because the family itself is God’s training ground for understanding His order. To learn obedience in the home is to learn how to obey God in life. And as parents, we are under authority as well—charged not to provoke our children, but to bring them up in the nurture and instruction of the Lord.

You’ll also find authority beyond the home—bosses, teachers, pastors, governments, and sometimes even people who misuse power. Most of the time, you can submit and obey together. But sometimes the two will pull in opposite directions.

Look at the world you’re growing up in. In school, at work, and even in daily conversation, some are told to use pronouns or names that affirm what they know isn’t true—things that deny how God created us, male and female. The world calls it kindness; Scripture calls it falsehood. These requests can seem like small acts of politeness, but children, they carry deep meaning. To speak in that way is to affirm something God has not made.Scripture teaches that He created us male and female, and that truth is not ours to rewrite. When you refuse to go along, the world doesn’t just call it stubborn—it calls it hatred. That’s one of the hardest crosses to carry: to be accused of hate when your heart is trying to live by truth and love together. But remember this—Jesus Himself was called a friend of sinners and a threat to power in the same breath. The world often misreads righteousness as cruelty. So you must learn to stand quietly, to speak gently, and to let truth remain unmoved. Be gentle, but be clear. You must not use words that deny what God has declared, nor let falsehood—or blasphemy—pass your lips in the name of politeness. Words matter. Our tongues are small rudders, James says, steering the whole ship of the heart.

And marriage—well, that’s another place where the lines blur. The government now says that two men or two women can marry. But children, marriage was God’s idea before it was anyone else’s law. Christ Himself said it: one man, one woman, joined by God. So you honor your neighbors, you treat them with respect, but you cannot celebrate what God forbids. Submission to civil order never means obedience to sin.

When the Country Chose

You are well versed in the history of the founding of this nation. The Revolution wasn’t simple; believers then faced the same Scripture we’re studying now. Many trembled over it. Some Christians said, “The Bible forbids rebellion. The king is our ruler; we must submit.” Others, steeped in the Reformed faith, said, “Authority is from God, yes—but kings hold it as a trust. When they destroy justice, they break that trust.”

John Calvin had written long before that private citizens have no right to revolt, but that lesser magistrates—lawful local rulers—might step in to defend the people when a tyrant turns his sword against them. The American colonies leaned on that reasoning. They weren’t mobs in the streets; they were assemblies of elected officials who had petitioned the king again and again. When their pleas were met with muskets, they said, “We act not to overthrow authority, but to preserve the justice God intended.”

During that time, Reformed thinkers often spoke of two views of government using Latin phrases:
“Rex Lex,” meaning “the king is law,” describes a ruler who stands above the law—his word becomes justice.
“Lex Rex,” meaning “the law is king,” declares that even rulers are subject to the same divine and moral law that governs all people.

The Scottish reformer Samuel Rutherford titled his great work “Lex Rex” to remind both rulers and citizens that law, not man, is supreme—and that law itself must rest upon God’s Word. The colonies, shaped by that principle, believed the king had ceased to be a “minister of God for good” when he acted as though Rex Lex—as if he were law unto himself.

You can argue whether they succeeded or failed in parts of it, but the principle remains: individual rebellion is never holy. Lawful resistance, done reluctantly by rightful leaders and for the sake of conscience, may sometimes be. Even then, it should break the heart, not swell the chest.

Reformed Christians called that the Doctrine of the Lesser Magistrate—a sober idea that true resistance must be corporate, lawful, and defensive, never private or self-serving. It’s a reminder that zeal without submission is still rebellion.

What Submission Really Means

So what does it mean, to “be subject”? It means to trust that God rules even through imperfect people and to remain peaceable under their hand. It means paying taxes without grumbling, honoring those in office even when you didn’t vote for them, and praying for them instead of cursing them. (And on this point, I count myself among the worst offenders—hardly excused from the admonishment.)

But it also means knowing the line where obedience ends. When a command crosses God’s truth, you must refuse—with humility, not anger. You may suffer loss, but not guilt.

For example, there may come a time when the government orders the closing of churches in the name of public safety, as happened during the Covid pandemic. If such an order is given with clear and proven necessity, the church may comply out of love for neighbor. But if it is issued without clear proof of danger, and it contradicts God’s command to gather for worship, then the people of God must continue to meet—wisely, carefully, but faithfully. We are commanded not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together (Hebrews 10:25), and no earthly power may overrule that call. That, too, is part of discerning where submission ends and obedience to God begins.

Submission is faith in God’s providence. Obedience is faith in His commands.
When the two collide, you kneel first toward heaven. And when you cannot clearly see the path, do not trust your own certainty—seek the counsel of the Holy Spirit. Only He can make the conscience sure. The Spirit will guide you through Scripture, prayer, and quiet conviction, keeping your heart both humble and steadfast before God.

The Heart of It

Remember this, my sons and daughters: authority is honored most when God is obeyed first. From a Marine in the field, to a husband leading his home, to a parent raising a child, to a teacher in a classroom, to a magistrate defending justice, to a citizen in a conflicted land—the calling is the same:

Submit with humility.
Obey with discernment.

And when obedience to man would mean disobedience to God, stand firm—quietly, truthfully, and with love. That’s the road of the Christian. It isn’t easy, but it’s straight.
And one day, when Christ returns and every authority bows before Him, submission and obedience will no longer pull apart. For then, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess Jesus as Lord and they’ll become one again—under the perfect and righteous King.

Iam Kerr