Yesterday, on our 21st anniversary, we joked if we took out our worst years, what would our happily married number be?
But, honestly, I really don’t think we’d be here without those hard seasons. I just kinda think those dark valleys were pressed into our journey to squeeze out the junk that would have cluttered our marriage anyway.
Sure, the journey feels far from bliss if I believe the rhetoric that marriage is only best in Christ’s centeredness.
Well, every aspect of Christian life is best in that, isn’t it?
Yet, can we all declare that each place that centers on Christ continually stays there?
Maybe it’s just tremendously flawed, skeptical me?
Regardless, we are human, our spaces are touched by humans, and our communities are woven with goodness and depravity in despairingly equal parts at times.
That’s just human.
I will also venture forward praying and hoping for Christ to present himself directly in the center of my path, regardless of where I am. That is about all I can keep in my control. Prayer and hope.
But, measuring my loving marriage as a little less than the proud Christian couple over there? Once, it was tempting to do. Now I realize that contentment is not a cop out or complacency to faith. It’s actually the rich soil where faith grows tall and wide. Contentment provides room to breathe and see God in unlikely places.
And faith has grown and my lungs have filled and my eyes have seen...even in this lopsided spiritual marriage of mine.
None of us can get it exactly right. No marriage is without the flaws of unChristlikedness.
No human is.
Some more than others.
I’d rather be here in this moment with him, than anywhere without him. So, I’d say, it’s been a good twenty-one years.