When I was in high school, I remember someone saying, “You know someone is growing up when they start picking up after themselves.”
They followed it up with something like, “And you know they’re a real adult when they start cleaning up other people’s messes without being asked.”

I don’t remember exactly who said it or where I heard it — but I remember how deeply it landed.

As an overachieving, perfectionistic, straight-A student, I took that message to heart — and then took it way too far.
I was primed for it, honestly. I had grown up in a home where I carried responsibilities far beyond my years and bore the weight of adult problems I had no business holding.

The comment was probably meant to reflect on the sacrificial nature of parenthood — how maturity looks like wiping peanut butter off the walls and folding tiny socks without complaint. But I internalized it as a personal mandate: Good people fix things. Grown-ups carry burdens. If you’re strong, you clean up the mess — even if it isn’t yours.

That idea shaped much of my young adulthood.
I didn’t just help others — I absorbed their consequences.
I didn’t just support — I overfunctioned.
And over time, the line between compassion and codependency blurred.

I didn’t know yet that cleaning up after others, when done compulsively and without boundaries, isn’t maturity.
It’s survival.
It’s a trauma response.
It’s a sign that somewhere along the way, I confused love with self-erasure.

And sadly, I’m not the only one.

In many conservative Christian circles, especially for women, this dynamic isn’t just overlooked — it’s encouraged.
We are raised to be the “helpmeet.” Taught that our value lies in how well we serve, how quiet we stay, and how much we give.
We’re rewarded for being agreeable, sacrificial, and submissive.
Somehow, we start believing that the holiest women are the ones who clean up everyone else’s messes without complaint — and without boundaries.

But that’s not Christlike. That’s co-dependence dressed in religious language.

A healthy, growing believer — the kind of disciple Jesus actually calls us to be — does take responsibility.
They own their mistakes.
They clean up their own messes through confession, repentance, and repair.
They seek reconciliation, not control.
They invite God to search their heart and align their life with His truth — not to earn worth, but to reflect love.

And once they’ve matured in that journey — when they’ve learned to live with humility, accountability, and grace — they can then become a light to others.
Not by overfunctioning or fixing people.
But by walking in integrity, testifying to growth, and offering encouragement to others still learning how to show up for themselves and others in healthy, holy ways.

But that’s not what we often see.

Instead, in many Christian homes — and too often in our churches — unhealed patterns are baptized as virtue.
We see entitlement without accountability.
Repentance without repair.
Leadership without love.

And instead of holding people to the standard of Christ, we reward charisma, overlook immaturity, and shame those who point out the harm.

So what’s the solution?

The dynamic must change at home first.
Before we talk about pulpits and platforms, we need to talk about kitchens and living rooms.
Before we fix church leadership structures, we need to fix our marriages.

A husband and wife were never meant to live in a hierarchy.
They were designed to be a team — mutual image-bearers of God.
Both called. Both capable. Both responsible.

Marriage was never meant to be a stage for control, coercion, or spiritual superiority. It was meant to be a partnership — where both people take responsibility for their own behavior, growth, and healing.

In a healthy marriage:

• Each partner owns their mistakes without defensiveness.

• Each partner learns to communicate in truth and grace.

• Each partner knows how to make repairs after conflict.

• Each partner brings their whole heart, not half of themselves.

• Each partner walks in accountability before God — not as one over the other, but as one beside the other.

And from that kind of home — where love is not performative but powerful — servant leaders should emerge.
Men who have laid down entitlement and picked up humility.
Women who are no longer silenced but fully walking in the purpose God placed inside them.

That’s the Church we need.
That’s the leadership we should be raising.

Not immature narcissists cloaked in titles.
Not men who twist Scripture to protect their ego and preserve their control.
Not systems that applaud charisma but ignore character.

Because when we platform men who weaponize theology to keep women small, we don’t just wound homes — we wound the witness of the Church itself.

Jesus didn’t model that.
He lifted women up.
He taught mutual submission (Ephesians 5:21).
He led through servanthood — not dominance.
He valued repentance over reputation.

It’s time for a reformation — not just in our churches, but in our homes.

If we want a Church that reflects the heart of Christ, we need marriages that do too.
And if we want marriages that reflect Christ, we must stop excusing immaturity, selfishness, and spiritual abuse as “biblical manhood.”

We need men who are emotionally safe.
Women who are spiritually empowered.
Families who grow in truth, humility, and love.
Only then will we raise a Church where no one has to recover from their leaders — or their marriage.

If you’re in a marriage or a church that calls silence “submission” and enables power without accountability — it’s time to pause, pray, and push back.

You don’t have to stay stuck in a system that stunts your growth.
You were made in the image of God — not to shrink, but to shine.

Start in your home.
Have the hard conversations.
Seek healing, not hierarchy.
Grow in mutual love, not performance-based roles.

And if your church teaches distorted roles instead of Christlike partnership — you have permission to walk away from what’s harming you and toward what’s holy.

It’s not rebellion.
It’s restoration.

“Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.”
— Ephesians 5:21, NIV

This is the starting point of every healthy Christian relationship — not dominance, but mutual submission.
Not control, but Christlike love.
Not one over the other, but one another.