‘In the run up to our wedding, we were in a holy war’

This month we celebrate Valentine’s Day, but since late last summer God’s had me praying intentionally for Christian marriages. As a married believer, I know firsthand the reality of being yoked together for a lifetime with another, always flawed, sometimes disastrous human (my husband does too). Nevertheless, I was perplexed when, last August, at an all-female Christian writer’s seminar, one after another disclosed they were currently separated or had come out of troubled, even abusive, marriages. These women were gentle, faith filled, glowing in their love for the Lord. It was nearly impossible to think of any man mistreating them. But the woeful tales around me of failing Christian marriages continue. Recently, within the space of just 30 minutes, I learned of one couple separating and another ending in divorce – both had faithful, Christian wives who were in ministry.

If Christian marriages are a representation of the sacrificial covenant between Jesus and his Church, why do separation and divorce seem so common? Marriage vows are entered into before God, between two fallible humans. The new covenant between God and his people was entered into with his Son, by his blood, on our behalf; we enter into the covenant by faith. One can break marriage vows, but an oath between God the Father and God the Son can never not be faithful. Despite the many flawed examples, I still have a deep hope for God’s picture of marriage – the beauty inherent in his mysterious plan between Christ and the Church – to be properly illustrated between husbands and wives here on earth.

A personal burden

My burden for Christian marriages is no accident. God can allow hardship in our lives to give us understanding and a heart of intercession on behalf of others. Through experiencing an issue, we gain understanding on how to battle it. I came into the world through a broken marriage covenant. Unbeknown to my mother, my father had had an extramarital affair to which a secret, out of wedlock baby had been born. My birth caused the mother of my sequestered half-sister to force my father’s hand; he’d let my mom know about his hidden daughter or she would. Less than two years later, my sister’s existence admitted, my father’s disgrace exposed, following long, messy court proceedings, my parents divorced – with me the only good remnant of their broken marriage. 

I’ve been open here before about the trials and heartbreaks that ensued from my convoluted beginnings, so you can imagine the emotional and spiritual elation I felt nearly three decades later when I met my husband, who introduced me to Jesus. A few weeks after I sassily told him I would never go to church, I was an on-fire, Bible-devouring, sermon binger, inexplicably transformed by grace. One of my dearest memories of our early days together is of us seated on a bench across from the Brooklyn Public Library, with a hemmed-in line of Jehovah’s Witnesses sandwiched between us as we went meticulously through Bible verses, sharing the true, biblical identity of Jesus. Stealing a glance down the benches toward the handsome, Christian soldier to whom I was betrothed, I felt I’d found my happy ending; but there’s an awful lot of warfare before Revelation.

I still have a deep hope for God’s picture of marriage to be properly illustrated between husbands and wives

In 270AD Saint Valentine was martyred for the crime of performing Christian wedding ceremonies for Roman soldiers, when Emperor Claudius II outlawed it, believing it divided their loyalties. Fittingly, this holy holiday is rooted in marriage, birthed out of love and war. In our Hollywood-influenced culture, we can romanticise our faith as easily as our dreams for the future. I’d done this very thing regarding marriage, expecting the glory-filled ending, without any real-life issues. I hadn’t bargained for Prince Charming to have a Scottish temper and easily triggered jealousy, or for myself to be so dysfunctionally unable to deal with relational conflict, I’d rather check out of life completely than see a heated argument through to its rational completion. But that’s exactly what happened. A week before our wedding, my Romeo-King David watched and waited as I vomited up charcoal in a hospital emergency room after overdosing on household pills. Drama isn’t just for the movies, and Christians who write for women’s magazines are never perfect. For years, what struck me about this awful experience was my husband’s anger. I faulted him for lacking compassion, for not reacting to an incredibly stressful, potentially life-altering situation in the way I believed he should. Many marital years and four children later, I can better understand. My irrational heartbreak and panic over an inconsequential argument almost cost him, cost us, our most incredible gift – the hope and future God had planned for us. When God has a plan, the enemy has another one. In the run up to our wedding, we were in a holy war.

The need for honesty – and prayer

I’m purposefully transparent about the trials in our marriage. Both my husband and I are sinners in need of a saviour, but the blood of Jesus adequately covers all our sins. As the Church, we must always beware of putting on a shining facade, while inside things are crumbling. Jesus spoke about this to the Pharisees in Luke 11:39, admonishing them for washing the outside of the cup while the inside remained filthy. He also said those who are well have no need for a doctor, but those who are sick do (Mark 2:17). When we are able to recognise our true state, in perpetual need of Jesus for any good work, we can turn to God with pure hearts in prayer, going boldly before the throne of grace to receive grace and mercy in time of need. Looking back in hindsight to that lowest of lows before our wedding day, we can see the testimony God is writing through the upward trajectory of 15 years of his faithfulness; creating beauty from ashes and a legacy of faith in our children. 

The plum line of our marriage has been prayer. We prayed if we should get married, on our knees when we got engaged, in our wedding ceremony and we continue to pray. Not always together but, even when apart, the posture of each of our hearts is that we are needful of help from on high. Counselling hasn’t always been a magic bullet, wisdom from elders sometimes isn’t available, communication can fail; but there has never been a time when God hasn’t heard our prayers and worked on our behalf as we waited on him. This Valentine’s Day, remembering love is a battlefield, join me in praying for Christian marriages.