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Last summer, I returned to my large rose bed after two growing seasons of neglect. A shoulder injury and the surgery that followed had kept me from tending it. The roses were still alive, but the grass had spread everywhere.

As I knelt in the dirt pulling weeds, I noticed something beneath the surface. The grass roots were tightly woven together. When I pulled one clump, others resisted. They were intertwined, strengthening one another, spreading together.

Society says a woman should never submit. She should guard her independence, protect her voice, and answer no one. But Scripture does not present submission as weakness. It presents it as part of a design that flourishes when both husband and wife honor their God-given roles.

The question is not whether submission exists in Scripture. It clearly does.

The question is this: What kind of man is worthy of her submission?

I love snow. There is something breathtaking about freshly fallen snow.

Before the sun rises and before footprints disturb its surface, the earth lies covered in a blanket of pure white. Rusted fences disappear. Muddy ditches are hidden. Trash along the roadside vanishes beneath the brilliance. What was once dull and dirty now appears clean, radiant, even beautiful.

In When God Leads, Book 3 of my When Series, Jedidiah Matthews stands before a room of men to lead a devotion. His hands tremble as he opens his notebook. His voice feels small at first.

But the truth he shares is solid.