A friend recently shared Daniel Carrillo’s tweet and I had to laugh.
In fact, I laughed until I cried. Literally. And the two were only moments apart.
The laughter because of the hilarious accuracy; the tears because of the bitter truth.
My marriage often feels empty, like two distant people simply occupying the same address. And don’t even get me started on grocery lists!
Laura and I have been married for over 26 years, and this relationship isn’t what I once thought it was going to be. For those who know us, some of these admissions will come as a shock (after all, we’re the perfect match, together since the 10th grade, voted “Cutest Couple” as seniors in high school).
But here’s the brutal truth of our perfect marriage:
The “D” word has been brought up more than a few times. Thoughts of betrayal have invaded our marriage, along with accusation, jealousy, rage, and hurt. Deep depression has sucked the life from our home too many times to count, along with never-forget whispers of suicidal thoughts (tragically romantic, right?).
There are times I can’t stand the sight of my wife, and she’ll admit the same. I’ve endured long periods when I’m so angry and wounded, a part of me would rather push her in front of a moving train than even hold her hand (oddly at times when her touch is something I desperately crave). And the thought of making love to her? Yeah, right. Just punch me in the mouth and drive a stake through my heart. Laura and I are sometimes so disconnected that decades of marriage almost feel like (at best) a mistake, and (at worst) a complete waste of our short time here on the big blue planet (and I’m not talking a few days of disconnect; I mean weeks … sometimes months).
I’ll just give you the nailed-to-cross truth about my marriage: It’s incredibly healthy and my wife and I love each other with passionate urgency (although we often suck at it).
We’re used to hearing fellow Christians fighting for the “sanctity of marriage” (can of worms I’m not going to open here). However, the statistics are intriguing (sources provided at the end):
- Upwards of 50% of all marriages end in divorce.
- Those who remarry are more likely to divorce.
- On average, Christians are as likely to divorce as everyone else.
- Some research reveals the “religious” as more likely to divorce.
- “Religious conservatives” divorce more often than “religious liberals”
- Jewish couples are 97% less likely to divorce
The data seems clear: If you want to save your marriage, you should consider becoming a liberal Jew–it will really up your odds of making it! Unfortunately, there are so many factors involved in those percentages that it’s not that simple. (I almost didn’t mention the stats for fear they would muddy the waters.) But there is one set of numbers from The Surprising Secrets of Highly Happy Marriages that stands out to me:
- Author Shaunti Feldhahn finds that 53% of “Very Happy Couples” agree with the statement, “God is at the center of our marriage” (compared to 7% of Struggling Couples). She writes, “Highly happy couples tend to put God at the center of their marriage and focus on Him, rather than on their marriage or spouse, for fulfillment and happiness” (pg. 178 —http://www.christianitytoday.com/edstetzer/2014/february/marriage-divorce-and-body-of-christ-what-do-stats-say-and-c.html )
There are two fatal flaws in most marriages. One is buying into the lie that another human being can fill a tangible, very real emptiness we all possess. In the postmodern era, there’s probably been no greater heart-attack than the line from the movie Jerry Maguire: “You complete me.” The very notion is cruel, setting an impossible bar of expectations that doom our relationships. A wedding doesn’t bring two halves together to make a whole. Marriage is the union of two broken people who commit to limping through this world together.
The second (but no less villainous) tragedy that haunts our relationships is not a question of whether or not we’re “doing” religion, but HOW we’re doing it. We’ve all seen the destruction from the pastor’s affair with the organist; the deacon’s wife hooking up with the old flame across town; the couple who faithfully attends every church service, pretending that everything’s roses and cream, but suffering through agonizing loneliness and loss of heart.
In and of itself, checking the “Christian” box on the survey form won’t do jack-crap for the health of your marriage. If only saving my marriage could be so easy, I’d wear nothing but “church clothes” and strap myself to the pew while shout-singing every agonizing verse of that lamenting dirge blaring from the pipe organ. And I’d do it with a determined, face-like-a-flint smile that might appear maniacal.
But, friends, it’s not so easy. And here’s why:
In our marriage, Laura and I are rarely in the same place at the same time, and when we are, it can become a heartbreaking struggle of endurance. And–GET THIS!–that is normal.
In his book The Screwtape Letters, CS Lewis presents some ground-shaking insight into our lives. He proposes that we (humans) are amphibious creatures, “half spirit and half animal. [We] occupy both the spiritual realms and the earthly realms at the same time. This means [we] go back and forth, have ups and downs, high and low tides in [our] spiritual lives.”
Lewis calls it the “law of undulation.” Sometimes spiritually high, our spirits brush against God’s presence. At other times we’re in the dregs of spiritual loss and desolation, so far away from God that the emptiness consumes us (though we rarely understand why). This is where God often reaches for us if we let him. But we rarely allow him to come through; instead we run off searching for something–anything!–to fill that void. We look first at what’s closest to us (we are creatures of convenience), and that’s usually a spouse.
Okay, friends. I don’t want to tiptoe around the issue, so I’ll just say it:
The demands and expectations that we put on our spouses are not only sinful, but also devastatingly cruel. In essence, we’re asking another unfinished, life-damaged person (which we all are) to become more than any of us can ever be: God. The towering level of unspoken, assumed, and accusatorial thoughts that will creep into your marriage from this idolatry-adultery will only cause both of you to crumble.
One of the most heartbreaking, soul-shifting, marriage-saving things I ever said to Laura was, “I love you. I will always love you. And I will always be here if you need me. But—and I want you to hear me very clearly—I don’t need you in my life in order to be happy.” It was a moment when I announced to her, “If I ever have to choose between you and God, I’m choosing my relationship with God.” That went over like you would expect—like a turd in a punchbowl. When I saw how my words pierced her, a part of me panicked and wanted to take them back. But I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. I loved her too much to ask her to be my God.
About a year later, Laura admitted that she finally understood exactly what I meant. Today, she loves God more than she loves me—and I love her even more for that! It takes the pressure off both of us. It gives us space and freedom to live and love.
You see, friends, if God gives you a partner to share this life journey, it’s not meant to be a replacement for him. Laura and I have close friends who are either struggling through their marriages and/or doom every relationship by making that other person their god. “Save me! Love me! Redeem me! Fulfill me!” In the early days, the romance can almost sustain the possibility of that lie, but not for long.
In Genesis, we see God’s intent in all of this. He provides Adam with Eve as his Ezer kenegdo. This often translates as helper or partner. Some translations go even deeper, showing that Eve is Adam’s life-saver. Elsewhere in scripture, this term is only used in reference to God himself, so it’s not a stretch for us to innocently substitute our spouses for God. However, I remind you that we all bear God’s image. We are reflections and reminders of his strength, his love, his tenderness, his ferocity, his joy, his beauty, his passion–and the list goes on!–but we were not meant to become God’s permanent replacement for those things.
Back to Lewis and the Law of Undulation.
As I mentioned, Laura and I are often in different places spiritually. It can be maddening when she’s “up” and I’m “down” … and then we flip-flop. How do you love someone who’s rarely on the same flight path? Every now and then Laura and I meet on the same spiritual plane, but it’s rare. Our undulations have unique rhythms. Sometimes my spiritual “ups” (or “downs”) might last for months–or years!–while Laura is fluctuating at breakneck speed. Sometimes we find ourselves together, deep in the valley. And this is where the damage is done.
We have some close friends currently fighting this battle. From the outside, it’s easy to see two broken people together in the valley, while both feel alone. Abandoned. Desolate. They’ve lost their way and their connection to each other. Both have taken a lot of wounds in their lives (some of which remain hidden from each other). Those piercings have left unhealed places that show up in many forms: silence, withdrawal, mistrust, doubt, criticism, cynicism. When you’re in the midst of it, all of these things are easily misinterpreted as the absence of love. But getting down to the nitty-gritty, here’s the deal: Both of them are starving for God and all that he offers, but they’re looking to each other–the image bearers of God–to do what only the Father can do: fill that undeniable void. So the assaults continue.
Friends, never doubt that (1) you and your marriage have a spiritual enemy, and (2) evil will twist every situation to inflict as much damage as possible. Revelation 12 lays it out–Satan was cast down, was defeated, and went off to wage war against the children of God. As his image bearers, that’s us, my dear ones. And one of the ways he tries to take us out is by poisoning our relationships:
I’m hurting and lonely and he doesn’t even care enough to touch me.
I feel like I’m going down here and all she does is demand more of me–and I don’t have it!
We’ve lost something and he’s selfishly withholding his love from me when I need it most.
She loathes me and doesn’t even think I’m a man.
He doesn’t think I’m beautiful.
He/she doesn’t love me anymore.
I need you but feel nothing from you.
He/she can’t give me what I need.
This is over.
The problem with these thoughts is the hellish twist of truth and lies. Our friends are in the throes of loneliness and desperation. It’s like watching two people drown together while berating the other for not being a lifeguard. Meanwhile, there’s an oxygen line just above their heads–God reaching for them both, longing to rescue them. Restore them. Love them.
Gang, hear me. It’s just like the advice given before every single airline flight: reach up and secure your own mask. If you both reach for God first, then you’ll be able to become your partner’s Ezer Kenegdo. Only then can you continue your journey and discover how to help each other along the way. In our greatest weakness we can find God’s strength, and that’s where I found the ability to become a life-saver for Laura (and she for me).
Marriage won’t ever be easy–we live in a fallen world that has become tilted against everything good. You must fight for it. But to do that, you’ve got to get some clarity on what’s really going on. Understanding a little of your own spiritual journey (along with your undulations) will certainly help. Realizing that your partner is suffering the same realities will also go a long way in the restoration of your relationship. And, trust me, you’re going to need each other. Don’t give up on that. Remember, after God created the earth and placed Adam in the garden, he looked around and saw that all of it was good … except for one thing: It’s not good for man to be alone. So he created Eve. Ezer Kenegdo.
In his loving wisdom, he knew we’d screw it up. He knew evil would come against us and rip us apart. And he knew we’d need each other to find our way back to him when we become so incredibly lost.
A few final thoughts before I leave you to wrestle with all of this:
- Prayerfully ask God to reveal the story of your own life to you. We so rarely understand our own wounds and scars, and we make it very hard for others to try to love us.
- As you become aware of your wounds, invite Jesus into those places. And once some healing begins, share some of that with your spouse. It will help more than you know. Laura has just begun to realize that I’m not slamming dishes around in the dishwasher because I think she’s a worthless idiot who can’t put a plate where it’s supposed to go. Rather, it’s because I have deep bruises deep still being healed and redeemed; vulnerable places that I still rage against by trying to gain some mastery and control in a world that feels out of control.
- Know your spouse’s story! As those become revelations, be tender toward each other’s wounds. Be careful not to do more damage. I’m ashamed of the times I’ve done this (and continue to do this) to Laura.
- Cut your spouse (and yourself) a little slack. You can never give each other what we all ultimately need–God. If I suggest Laura can complete me, it’s not romantic. It’s cruel. In essence, I’m asking someone with two bad eyes and crippling arthritis to perform open heart surgery on me.
- Remember, you’re both broken. Quit expecting so much from each other and start expecting a little more from Christ.
Be well, my friends. I pray our Father draws you closer to him and restores you to your Ezer Kenegdo.
As promised, here are some sites with the marriage stats I mentioned: