August 20

My Marriage Mistakes

Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.

––Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

After nearly forty years of marriage, I’ve learned a few things. At the top of the list is the fact that  I out-kicked the coverage when I married Chrissy. People say, “I’m not sure what I did to deserve my wife.” Sometimes I think this is just self-deprecation, but honestly, it’s true in my case. I was a freshly minted, gung-ho, all-over-the-map believer when I met Chrissy at university. To put it in a few words, I was a handful. Looking back now—and after conversations I’ve had with my beloved—I can see it more clearly: God graced me with this incredibly kind, patient woman. He knew that I had a lot of growing to do, and He gave my future wife the revelation to see it in me—even if I didn’t see it yet myself.

Like a lot of things in life, some of my greatest marriage lessons were learned by doing things wrong. I realize that not everyone reading this is married, but just bear with me—I hope what I share has some relevance even for any single men out there. In no particular order:

Silence doesn’t necessarily mean success. Particularly in the early years of my marriage, I could be pretty strident getting my point across to Chrissy. I was raised in a loud, chaotic environment where if you were late for dinner, you didn’t eat. (Not because you were being punished, but simply because there wasn’t any food left.) It was a kind of “dog eat dog” home—every brother and sister for themselves. So when I’d come in loud and strong to make my point with Chrissy, she would often get quiet. Not because she agreed with me, but because she didn’t feel safe to push back. I thought I was “winning” arguments when what I was actually doing was pushing my wife away.

Conflict doesn’t always need immediate resolution. Because my upbringing was pretty unstable, when I got married I craved clarity and stability. However, oftentimes when Chrissy and I would have a conflict, I falsely believed that if we didn’t resolve it then and there, something was wrong. I learned—through therapy, marital counseling, and good mentors—that two people can disagree and not have immediate resolution, and that’s okay. It took me years to come to a place where I felt comfortable with a little ambiguity at times. I’m not talking about denial where major problems are ignored or swept under the carpet, but about issues that take time, thought, and prayer to work through.

Love does not necessarily guarantee respect. While respect is definitely a big component of love in a marriage, I learned that I can love my wife but fail to always respect her point of view or perspective. There were times when I was dismissive of Chrissy—either thinking she was wrong on an issue, or that I just flat-out knew more than she did. It took me a while to realize that if I was to love Chrissy the way Christ loves the Church, I needed to learn how to activate respect. That meant taking tangible steps to listen better, consider her side of an issue even when it conflicted with mine, and to value her as a unique individual with different gifts and talents.

I have to keep my side of the street clean. One of the greatest breakthroughs in my marriage came when I learned in counseling that I was transferring a lot of my baggage onto Chrissy. Basically, I was blaming her for stuff that was wholly my own to deal with. I began to understand that if I didn’t allow the Holy Spirit to use my past trauma to transform me, I would transmit my pain onto Chrissy. People call it different things: Owning your own issues, or keeping your side of the street clean.

I’m not my wife’s savior. I think early in my marriage I viewed myself as the person who was going to make Chrissy happy and protect her from the evils of the world. I quickly learned that while, yes, I was called to protect her, I was not called to be her Jesus with a little “j.” We went through some intense years, including the deaths of several family members. I realized that it wasn’t my job to rescue Chrissy from the pain she was feeling. Instead, my job was to come alongside her, hurt and weep with her, and as equals, walk forward into the storm together.

Father, thank You for my wife—it’s no accident that we are together. Help me to learn from my mistakes, understand her better, and partner with her to more fully invite Jesus into the center of our journey together.