Standing ovations are rare occurrences at funerals, but this one seemed to fit the occasion. Her long struggle with cancer had ended three days earlier. It had been five years since I sat with the family and the doctor revealed the rare cancer diagnosis. Stunned, someone finally asked, “How long does she have?”
The doctor hesitated to answer. “It could be a few months or a few years. Absolutely best-case scenario with the most aggressive form of treatment and everything going her way . . . I’d say five years.”
His educated guess was frighteningly accurate. Just past the fifth anniversary of her diagnosis, she made the decision to bring in hospice care and start the journey toward what comes next. But it wasn’t an easy transition. The will that had allowed her to fight for so long was not easily dismissed. She lingered in great pain and exhaustion. One week gave way to another and then another. A month passed and then two and then three. On multiple occasions the family gathered at her side for the end, but the end did not come.
Finally, mercifully for her sake and the sake of the family, she breathed her last. And as he had been through it all, her husband was right by her side. As friends and family gathered three days later to pay their last respects, it seemed natural to take just a moment to recognize his service to his wife and his family over five years of painful treatments, setbacks, long road trips to the Mayo Clinic, and all the small acts that few people ever saw as he served her. So in his honor, we stood and applauded.
This man’s gift to his wife is not as common as we might think. I’ve been fortunate to see it on many occasions, but there have been times in which I’ve seen the opposite response to sickness. More spouses run than we would like to admit.
Ashley’s diagnosis wasn’t life threatening, but it was serious. It was going to be a lengthy process through multiple surgeries, radiation, and possibly chemo to make sure her breast cancer did not take her life. Thankfully the diagnosis came early and the cancer was one of the easier types to treat. The road would be difficult, but if everything went well it would only be difficult for a few years before she returned full force to the life she wanted.
Unfortunately, David had very little interest in assisting her. I can only assume the marriage was in trouble long before the diagnosis was given, but when it came, David ran. Not in denial, or for a day or a week, but for good. He divorced her without even a hesitation. Ashley was alone during the surgery. By herself during the radiation. Thankfully chemo wasn’t needed. She made it, but her cancer was a double sorrow because not only did she have to suffer, but she had to do so alone.
In my view, David’s actions are the definition of cowardice. In the very moment he had the opportunity to step up and live out the vows he had spoken, he ran. In so doing, he robbed Ashley of what is supposed to be one of the great gifts of marriage—always having someone by your side.
At its heart, marriage is a friendship in which two people join hands and walk through life side by side. No matter what they might face, they face it together. The unknown aspect of life is what makes marriage so risky and what makes the vow to love so beautiful. We do not reconsider our love with every season of life. Instead, we vow to one another our very best no matter what might come—for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.
In Sickness and in Health
“In sickness and in health.” On two occasions I have said those words with full confidence that the couple repeating them actually knew what they meant. The first occurrence brought a smile to my face. She had endured, and marriage was her reward on the other side of illness. Together they had journeyed through the struggles of a serious disease as boyfriend and girlfriend. Now they would be husband and wife. They knew what “in sickness and in health” meant.
The second occurrence brought a tear to my eye. She had weeks to live. The vow renewal was his gift to her. I almost cut the words, fearing they might be too painful. But with a crowd gathered, I included them as a testimony to all who would hear them say, “In sickness and in health.” They meant it and everyone knew it.
Few of us consider sickness and suffering when picking a mate. We consider how the other person might look in the morning or what bad habits they might have. We consider what offspring they could produce or what extended family they might bring to the reunion.
Yet few of us ever consider a vital question: “Can I suffer with this person?” It sounds like the beginning of a marriage joke, but it’s not. It’s a real question and one that should be explored by every dating couple. Suffering is a part of life. The older a person gets, the more we realize that suffering is not a rare occurrence but a common aspect of our lives. Sorrow comes in many forms, yet it is guaranteed to come.
Not everyone suffers well. Some live in denial, unable to confront the deep realities of life. Some live in despair, unable to recognize the convergence of laughter and tears. Few have the grace to suffer well. Those who do are a wellspring of life and faith.
Who do you want holding your hand when the test says cancer? On whose shoulder do you want to lean when the doctor says, “We’ve done all we can”? Who do you want to lie beside when you don’t know where your child is or if they will ever come home? In whose eyes do you want to look when your world turns upside down? Find someone who suffers well.
I know it doesn’t seem important when life is perfect. A beautiful smile is far more attractive than quiet determination. A common interest is far more appealing than internal strength.
Yet when life falls apart, you want someone you can run to, not someone you want to run from. You want someone who believes in you, who instills faith rather than doubt. You want someone who hopes no matter the circumstances.
Life is hard enough; there is no need to make it harder. Friends can’t make life easy—no one can do that—but they do make it easier. They help carry the burden. They ease the pain. They lessen the load. When spouses are friends, life is sweeter. It is easier to suffer together than alone. Yet when a spouse fails to play the role of friend, every grief is stronger, every sorrow is more painful, and every hurt cuts deeper.
Spouses take the role of friend seriously when they
know how to suffer,
don’t live in denial but confront the sorrows of life,
don’t live in despair but know how to laugh and cry at the same time,
offer support and hope in all of life’s challenges, and
see the big picture of life.
And then,
every grief is wedded with hope,
every sorrow is matched with love, and
every hurt is paired with healing.
One of the great guarantees of life is that every person, every couple, will suffer. When you do, you want someone by your side.
Trust Changes Everything
Suffering brings to light the key aspect of friendship—trust. We are friends with others to the extent that we can trust them. Where trust is absent, so is true friendship.
For a few years I had a minor skin tag just under one of my eyes. It didn’t have any negative influence on my vision, but it was irritating. On a weekly basis, someone would stop me mid-conversation and say, “You have something under your eye.” I would thank them but then let them know it wasn’t anything I could just wipe away. It was a small growth I couldn’t remove.
One day I asked my doctor, “Do you think you can do anything about this?” He looked at my eye and said, “I can try.” He told me to drop by one day and he would try to remove it. So the next time I was near his office I dropped in. The process was fairly simple: lie down, close my eyes, and let a doctor use a sharp object to cut out a collection of cells underneath my skin. As I lay there, one thing struck me—how calm I was despite what was happening.
Obviously this wasn’t major surgery, so there was no need for me to be really nervous, but there was a knife very near my eye. And still I was calm. Why? Because I trusted the doctor. I’ve known him for a long time. I knew he would never do anything to unnecessarily hurt me. I knew he wouldn’t risk my eyesight for a skin tag. I knew if he was uncomfortable about any part of the process, he would stop and either tell me to live with the blemish or refer me to someone who could do the job.
Because I trusted him, I could relax and let him do his job. Even when it hurt, I could communicate the pain but accept it. I never doubted his ability. I never questioned what was happening. My trust in him allowed me to endure the process with a general sense of ease.
Trust changes everything. It even changes how I approach pain. Pain often reveals the level of our trust. Take me to a doctor I do not know and if I feel pain, I begin to question either his heart or his ability. Does he know what he’s doing? Am I being seen by a hack? Does he care that he is hurting me? Yet when I know and trust my doctor, he can use sharp objects near my eye and it is not frightening. He can say, “This is going to hurt,” and I know the pain is necessary and useful. I can endure the pain because I trust the person.
So it is in marriage. Painless has never been used to describe a healthy marriage. While marriage should be a positive experience most of the time, there are moments in marriage that are supposed to be extremely difficult. As our weaknesses and inadequacies are revealed, the revelation process is painful. When trust isn’t present within the marriage, the pain is almost unbearable. However, when trust is present, a couple can confront and endure nearly anything. And endure is what every couple has to do.
You are not the perfect couple. No couple is. No matter how good a marriage may look on the outside, no matter how much you might envy the husband or wife, every relationship has setbacks, struggles, and moments of great trouble. Some deceive themselves into thinking their marriage is perfect, while far more attempt to deceive others that their marriage is perfect. It’s all a lie. Yet that perception some try to portray strangles a marriage. It prevents a couple from getting the help they need. They can never attend a marriage conference for fear that people might talk. They can never go to marriage counseling for fear that someone might see their car in the parking lot. They can never ask for help lest they sacrifice the mirage that they have it all together.
But no one has it all together. Until a couple is willing to admit that they are not the perfect couple, they have very little chance of having a meaningful, healthy relationship. Yet there is nothing more liberating than being willing to embrace your imperfections. It keeps you from feeling the pressure to put on a good front for others. It allows you to expect struggles and mistakes. It empowers you to get the help necessary whenever you confront a problem you can’t solve on your own.
Love and Ignorance
Whenever I’m performing a wedding ceremony, particularly for a young couple, I begin the formal address by saying, “There are two things I can guarantee you. One, you are clearly in love with one another. Two, you have no idea what you are doing.” The second line always gets a great laugh from the married couples in the room—because it is unexpected but also true.
Ignorance should be one of the great joys of a new marriage. A man and a woman step into marriage with very little understanding of what makes it work. And that is okay. It’s supposed to be that way. One of the fun aspects of marriage should be two people who don’t know what they are doing learning and growing together. No pretending. No posturing. No assumptions that they have it all figured out.
While we learn a lot in marriage, especially early in the marriage, that basic ignorance doesn’t necessarily leave. While I’m confident with what it takes to be married for a decade or two, I have no idea what will be demanded of us in the third, fourth, and maybe fifth decades. I know where we have been and what we have learned, but I do not know everything we need for the next season of life. Those are the things we will have to learn together.
Marriage should begin (and continue) with a deep humility born from an understanding that you’ve never been here before, but you are excited to be ignorant together. You are excited to learn, struggle, and figure out how to have a good marriage. This humility causes a couple to expect problems, mistakes, and misunderstandings. It will allow them to more easily laugh when things do not go as expected or to put a fight in the proper context, knowing the marriage isn’t over because of one disagreement.
When couples assume they know what they are doing, they run a great risk of allowing their ignorance to be their undoing. They will close their ears to the advice of others and close their minds to any thought beyond what they already believe. Having seen their parents’ marriage, having watched marriage displayed on television, and having had their own relationships, these couples arrogantly enter into marriage assuming they know everything they need to know about the relationship. Nothing could be further from the truth.
How can a person know about marriage if they have never been married? How can a person know about being married to this person even if they have already been married to someone else? How can they be certain about what will be required of them next year when they have never lived it? It’s impossible. Yet every year I perform ten to fifteen wedding ceremonies for couples who assume they know (or pretend to know) everything about what to expect. Stop assuming. Stop pretending. Marriage should not be entered into arrogantly, but humbly. And it should continue to exist in a climate of humility.
Humility is what allows us to trust one another. We can trust humble people because we know they will not overstep their ability. They will recognize their faults and inadequacies. They will not try to put on a front. They will not think of themselves as more valuable than others. Humble people are trustworthy people.
Those filled with pride are the ones we cannot trust. They will lie, cheat, manipulate, and deceive. They will see themselves as above the rules or beyond the need to explain themselves. Any action will be justifiable in their eyes if it helps them attain their desires.
Pride is the ultimate enemy of marriage. It decays a marriage from the inside out. Where pride is present, intimacy is absent because a prideful person cannot be trusted or respected. They can only be feared, questioned, and doubted.
Marriages flourish in humility. In the absence of self-righteousness, self-sufficiency, and self-reliance, marriages have the ability to thrive. In the presence of all the “selfs,” nothing but selfishness can grow. Pride destroys trust because trust is built on the conviction that the other person will watch out for our best interests. Pride demands that only the interests of its occupant can have priority.
Pride kills friendship because pride can only befriend itself. It doesn’t have the capacity to care for another or to submit its own desires to that of another.
My favorite definition of pride is “self-intoxication.” In the same way that too much alcohol can inebriate us, pride has the ability to cloud our judgment. When a police officer wants to see if a driver is intoxicated, he asks the person to complete a few tasks—walk a straight line, say the ABCs, or touch their nose. These are simple tasks for those who are not drunk, but they are nearly impossible for those who are intoxicated. Being drunk makes a simple task difficult.
The same is true in marriage. When a husband or wife is self-intoxicated, easy tasks become difficult. Is it hard to serve your spouse? Do you struggle with submitting your desires to that which is best for your marriage? Is forgiveness a tough subject between the two of you? In a marriage built on humility, a husband or wife finds it generally easy to love, serve, forgive, and place themselves behind the well-being of the couple. When pride is present, these easy tasks become difficult. Trust erodes and the friendship is severed.
Whoever is humble is trustworthy; whoever is trustworthy is a friend. Friendship in marriage occurs within the climate of trust, which is established because of a shared humility between husband and wife. The absence of trust within a relationship does not always make itself apparent. It often stays hidden below the surface, affecting the relationship through other avenues. Many communication issues are trust issues. If a wife does not trust her husband, she cannot fully communicate her heart to him. If a husband does not trust his wife, he will continually hide his heart out of fear.
Many sexual disagreements arise from an absence of trust. Sex often touches on our deepest insecurities. It makes us vulnerable, and unless we can trust the person we are intimate with, we will be guarded. Skittish is the antithesis of sexy. If you trust your partner, you can openly communicate likes, dislikes, desires, and fears. Where trust is absent, few issues can be discussed and many assumptions are made.
What many couples experience as a marital rut is actually occurrences of distrust. While every couple experiences seasons of what feels like being stuck, when a couple stays in a stagnant season for a long period of time, it is likely because of distrust. They are stuck because they have reached the boundaries of their trust. Unless they learn to trust more, they will never grow deeper as a couple.
Trust changes everything. It is a quality of marriage that must consistently be developed. Much like a muscle, trust can be strengthened or weakened.
Sadly, many couples know the pain of sexual or financial or emotional betrayal. Trust has been shattered and the relationship suffers because of it.
Thankfully, trust can be regained. Slowly, in a baby-step fashion, even the worst of betrayals can be overcome as a couple rebuilds their trust. It can’t happen too quickly, or what will develop is a pseudo-trust, where one or both spouses pretends to trust but always suffers from great doubt. But if a couple does the work, admits the deception, seeks to rebuild the relationship, and time and time again proves themselves trustworthy, trust can be rebuilt.
From Altar to Altar
When I was a little boy, my paternal grandfather would stay with us when my grandmother was in the hospital. It only happened a few times, but those nights are cemented in my memory. My grandfather went to bed early—even before me, an eight-year-old. My room was the only one with an extra place to sleep, so my mom would pull out the trundle bed, and I would sleep on it while my grandfather slept on my bed.
I remember one night in particular in which my grandfather was staying with us and went to bed thirty minutes before me. At the right time, my parents told me it was bedtime, so off I went. But as I neared the room, I could hear my grandfather talking. I quietly peeked through the crack in the door and saw him kneeling beside the bed, praying. I probably shouldn’t have stood there to listen, but I did. He was praying for the health of his wife, asking God to make her better. I left the doorway and told my parents why I couldn’t go to bed yet. They told me to wait a few minutes and try again. I did and he was still praying. Finally, on the third try, his prayers were over and we could both go to sleep.
At the time I wasn’t sure why, but I knew it made me feel good to hear my grandfather praying for my grandmother. While I felt bad for his pain, I was comforted by his love for her because I also knew he had a similar love for me.
All these years later, I look back on that night with a much deeper respect. I know many husbands pray for their wives, but not all do. I know many wives serve their husbands even in the most difficult of moments, but not all do. Anyone can kneel at the altar in a white dress or tuxedo and boldly proclaim their undying love and devotion to another person. It is something far different to actually live out that love and devotion over a lifetime of ups and downs.
Marriage might begin at the altar of a church, but it is proven at the self-made altar of a bedside at a hospital, a nursing home, or even your grandson’s bedroom. A true friend is always on your side no matter what circumstances you may face. The privilege of marriage is to be the ultimate friend to our husband or wife through a variety of seasons.
“Can I suffer with this person?” is an important question. We will all suffer, and when we do, we deserve to have our husband or wife right beside us even in the midst of the pain. Trust is at the core of a good marriage. Show me a couple who trusts one another and I will show you a couple who can endure any circumstance. Without trust, intimacy dies. With trust, it flourishes.
BE INTENTIONAL