I’m stressed out. Classes started up a few weeks ago. I bought about $400 worth of books and now I have to read them all. I have papers to write. The first round of tests is around the corner. I work. I’m trying to train my dog to walk off-leash, but whenever he thinks he hears a squirrel he runs after it, usually in the wrong direction. (He’s embarrassing.) And now I have this newspaper column to write. The duties seem endless.

So what am I going to do, short of running away to Canada while my dog runs in the other direction? Actually, the idea of escaping from rather than submitting to what is expected of me does have its appeal. But submission?

It seems that whenever people want to get in a quick potshot at Islam, they point out that Islam means “submission.” As a pastor once told me, “Allah doesn’t want your love, he wants your submission.”

So I take it that submission is kind of a dirty word in this country. I have to admit, it doesn’t sound very pleasant. There’s something about it that makes us recoil. I’m guessing it has to do with our heritage.

After all, our country was born when our forefathers refused to submit to the crown. You see, Britain was taxing us. No, not just taxing us, but taxing us without representation! Trust me, it was a big deal. So we had a tea party and next thing you know, the British were massacring us.

What could we do? “Not submit,” yelled Thomas Paine, while slamming his fist on a table. “I’d rather die!” We took up arms. Paul Revere rode through town shouting about redcoats, George Washington posed heroically while crossing the Delaware, and the British accidentally went to Breed’s Hill, allowing us to steal Bunker Hill away. Finally King George said, “Whatever, who needs the stupid New World anyway” and gave up.

It’s History 101 people; submission just is not in our blood. Maybe the problem is that we think about it wrong. The reason the word makes us recoil is because we equate it with oppression. But submission doesn’t have to mean oppression. You just have to be careful in deciding what you submit to.

After all, it’s not as though the Bible eschews the concept of submission. Take Jonah, for example. God told him to go preach in Nineveh, but Jonah didn’t want to, so he ran away to a boat. God sent a storm and the people on the boat threw Jonah overboard, at which point he got swallowed by a big fish. He prayed for three days and the fish puked him up. And then Jonah went to Nineveh. Moral of the story: If God wants you to do something, you should just go ahead and do it. Otherwise, you’re going to get eaten by a big fish.

And then there’s the whole story of Jesus, which is like a big, serious lesson in submission. So Jesus was the son of God. Sounds like a pretty sweet gig, right? But here’s the thing. He was destined to die a really painful, early death. He would be accused of being a criminal and everybody would forsake him, even his best friends. And he knew this somehow. He knew this was going to happen, that it had to happen. That is some heavy-duty pressure.

And don’t think that Jesus didn’t feel it. In Matthew 4, we see him tempted to leave his destiny behind for worldly success. He resisted the temptation, of course. In Matthew 26, however, in Gethsemane, on the night he was captured, Jesus threw himself on the ground and begged God to release him from his burden. When he found his disciples, his friends, asleep after he had asked them to stay awake with him, he woke them up, annoyed, and said, “Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

He was speaking as much to himself as to his disciples here. His disciples couldn’t manage, so he would have to do it for them. He went back, more resolved, more resigned, and prayed for a second time. “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” He was gathering his courage, convincing himself not to run away.

When his captors came, one of his disciples drew a sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s slave. Earlier, at the last supper, Jesus, feeling the pinch of desperation, had told his disciples to carry the swords. Now he realized his mistake. He ordered them to put their swords away and healed the slave’s ear. He allowed the mob to take him away, fully and completely submitting to God’s will.

Seems that the Christian God wants us to submit just as much as Allah does. In case you’re still not entirely convinced, here’s James 4:7. “Submit yourselves therefore to God.” Good old James, nice and direct.

So does God (or Allah, for that matter) not care about our love, but only our submission? Well, maybe love and submission are kind of the same thing. Ephesians 5:22 is famous for making liberal Christians uncomfortable. In it, Paul says that wives should submit to their husbands. Again, this makes us squirm because we equate submission with oppression. Ephesians 5:21 is a little less famous. In it Paul says that everybody should submit to everybody. “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Because Christ was subject to you. See, he wasn’t just submitting to God, he was submitting to us, too.

Submission isn’t meant to be a one-way street; if it just goes one way, it’s oppression. But if it goes both ways, it’s love, or at least compromise. Wives submit to husbands, husbands to wives. We submit to God, God to us. Everybody to everybody.

Really, our whole lives consist of a series of submissions. We either submit to our responsibilities or we run from them, and running from them rarely turns out well. So I guess I could drop out of school and move to Canada. But I’d probably get swallowed by a big fish or something. And then who would feed my dog? God knows, he’s never going to catch a squirrel.

Justin Fowler is a student at University College of Bangor. He may be reached at justin.fowler@verizon.net. Voices is a weekly commentary by Maine people who explore issues affecting spirituality and religious life.