There are two aspects of marriage that tend to generate the most angst in our hearts: how we communicate our deep feelings to each other, and how we process the foolish choices we make individually—choices that often score a direct hit to the heart of our spouse. The blunt-force trauma of these thoughtless words or actions often cause couples to wonder if perhaps going their separate ways is a better idea. A couple might not choose to actually split up, but they can still struggle with deep disappointment in their marriage.
If I can be vulnerable with you, I have to admit that both Darcy and I have been surprised at the stupid things we’ve said during some of our weaker moments. Along that same line, we can’t believe some of the foolish choices we’ve made in light of the vows we exchanged with each other. Yet even couples trying to pay attention to their vows can find themselves drawing energy from their selfishness in order to deliver some of their most caustic words and pull off their dumbest stunts against their spouse.
One lady has a playlist on her phone that she calls “Songs about the Idiot I Married.” She downloaded as many my-husband’s-a-loser country songs as she could find. On those occasions when he outdoes himself being selfish or insensitive, she just hits “shuffle” and grinds her teeth. When asked about the wisdom of having something so handy to fuel her frustrations, she said she’d gotten the idea from the playlist her husband has about her on his phone. They have some work to do.
This couple validates an important reality about the truth we’re discussing—namely, there isn’t one gender that has first position locked up on saying things poorly or acting foolishly toward their spouse. It’s human nature to view our marriage with our own best interests in mind. We shouldn’t be surprised, then, that we say and do things out of our ego needs or sense of justice and revenge. And it’s easy to see how the choices we make with our selfish desires in the driver’s seat could easily back over the joy of our spouse.
But if Jesus has crossed your path, most likely you’d prefer something better than those toxic words and frustrations that have sniped at your joy since your wedding. Grace compels us to deal with these two areas of our marriage in a way that focuses on Christ’s finished work for us and the best interests of our spouse.
Grace can change the dynamic in a marriage by helping a couple commit to using words and actions that appeal to each other’s inner needs for a secure love, a significant purpose, and a strong hope. Even if only one spouse is committed to this, it can still make a radical difference. The transforming power that one can have on the other is similar to the transforming power God has on us when he draws us to himself (sometimes kicking and screaming) by meeting our inner needs. In fact, it’s identical.
These encouraging words and empowering actions improve the health of the marriage. Yet we all have weak areas and sins that need to be dealt with. This is why we need the next layer in our house of grace—a layer that helps us create a climate of grace that mirrors the one God maintains with his spouse, the church. The air we breathe within this climate is the air of freedom.
In the last chapter, we saw how heart connection is much easier to maintain when we grant our spouse the freedom to be different and the freedom to be vulnerable. In this chapter, we’ve come to the areas in marriage that demand grace the most. This is where grace dons its weathered Stetson, scarred steer-wrestling boots, and well-worn work gloves. Grace has to saddle up to deal with two dynamics in marriage that even the best among us are reluctant to surrender to God’s control. Although our spouse may want to buck off our attempts to bring grace to this part of their story, the biggest kicks, twists, jumps, and snorts usually come from us.
Bringing grace to our marriage in the two areas addressed in this chapter requires us to swallow our ego, abandon our need for self-protection, and trust God. But if we want to set our spouse’s heart free, we’ve got to add these two freedoms to the list. They might intimidate us at first, but when we allow God’s grace to turn them into a boxed set with the freedom to be different and the freedom to be vulnerable, our love can’t lose. These two areas of rodeo grace are …
• the freedom to be candid, and
• the freedom to make mistakes.
If you have struggled in your marriage with words that have left you humiliated or angry, God’s grace wants to do a hard reset on your love. If one of you has brought embarrassment to your reputation as a couple, God wants to give you a gift you don’t deserve but desperately need. Let’s learn together how to turn these into a grace-filled way of living in your marriage.
Communication is vital to a marriage relationship. We can’t be operating in different universes and think we have a chance at the intimacy God designed our marriage to have. A deeply loving relationship between a husband and wife needs to encourage a free exchange of the feelings churning within their hearts. A grace-filled spouse wants to communicate clearly and deeply with their mate, but not pummel their heart in the process.
That’s the problem with self-protection. Without grace, we can become so absorbed in making our point that we don’t care what effect the delivery of that point makes on the other person. Some couples’ ideas of communication are the equivalent of driving in thumbtacks with a sledgehammer. For the record, a sledgehammer can indeed drive a thumbtack into a wall. But in the process, it usually takes out the wall. So we make our point, but we break our spouse’s heart in the process. And that doesn’t reflect the heart of God.
Some couples think when it’s time to say what’s on their mind, they can deliver it Jerry Springer Show–style. The success of this kind of show is based on the guests’ willingness to communicate in complete honesty. These shows invite one guest who knows something truthful (yet horrific) about another guest. Then the audience watches with glee the tragic impact this honest information has on the second (but unsuspecting) person. If the exchange goes the way the producer hopes, the ugly truth of one will bring out the ugly truth from the other. Honest evaluations—straight from the gut—will be thrown back and forth, seasoned with insults, expletives, and maybe a few fists. Both participants will feel morally justified because they spoke every word with utter truthfulness. Because the key was letting each other know exactly what they thought or felt, there’s also a certain level of satisfaction that each of them was forthright.
Honesty, delivered without any concern for the person receiving it, is usually cruel. This is why I decided to use the word candid. Although it sounds like a synonym of honesty, it tends to have in mind the dignity of the person on the receiving end. Remember, love has the needs and best interests of the one receiving the candid interaction at heart. For our discussion here, let’s agree that candid is honesty drenched in grace.
We need this commitment in our marriage because of the simple fact that all couples fight—at least all the honest ones do. We have disagreements, arguments, and back-and-forth exchanges that are required to arrive at understanding. But if our goal is to tell our spouse exactly what we think or feel without any regard for the impact this information will have on them, we end up denying them their dignity for the sake of our own ego satisfaction.
In Ephesians 4:25–32, Paul unpacks the rules for fighting fair. Among other things he says, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen” (v. 29).
Unwholesome refers to insulting, profane, and denigrating words that may make you feel vindicated but end up feeling like the equivalent of a drive-by shooting to your spouse. Paul tells us to say whatever we need to say in a way that is “helpful”—bringing clarity and mutual understanding. He adds that our candid words should build others up “according to their needs.” Oh, that sounds familiar—security, significance, and strength. And at the expense of sounding like a download that’s experiencing a digital skip, it makes sense to revisit our definition of love: love is the commitment of my will to your needs and best interests, regardless of the cost. The cost might involve not getting to satisfy your selfish desire to tell your spouse what a jerk they are. But God wants our words to build up, not tear down; to heal, not harm; to cleanse, not curse. Paul closes with the exhortation, “that it may benefit those who listen.” Grace-filled couples use their candid verbal exchanges to bring out the best in each other. We must do this without marginalizing our spouse or making them feel like they don’t matter to us.
Paul adds a point right after this verse that puts our conversations in a bigger spiritual context. He says, “Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption” (v. 30).
Paul is pleading his case on the basis of a much larger issue than our relationship as couples—namely, how our verbal exchanges reflect on our greater relationship with God. We’re supposed to mirror his image as a couple. The members of the Trinity do not speak disrespectfully to each other. We’re supposed to imitate them. On top of that, God put his mark of ownership and protection on us as a result of his work on Calvary. He redeemed us at the cross in order to ultimately redeem us on our spiritual wedding day (in heaven). How we treat each other as a married couple needs to be in line with how he’s dealt with us individually.
In the next verse, Paul says, “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (v. 31). There’s no excuse for our screaming at each other with caustic words. Yelling at someone is a toxic form of high control. Incidentally, it’s very effective. Add a contorted face and some cheap-shot names, and pound home your point with profanity, and the person on the receiving end has very few options. Mostly, they cave in.
Only three scenarios are designed for yelling. One is when you’re trying to get the attention of someone who is outside the reach of conversational volume. A second reason for yelling is to warn someone of imminent danger. The third is when you’re cheering someone on. Other than these three scenarios, there’s no reason we should ever scream or yell at someone. When we do, there’s a dehumanizing effect on the receiving end. Some spouses defend themselves by screaming back; others by simply curling up inside themselves. Paul says that people who have been transformed by the grace of God need to rise above this kind of rancor.
People in close relationships will always have difficult things that need to be said. Sometimes we have to initiate the conversation; sometimes we’re the recipients of it. Between the challenges from kids, schedules, friends, sex, and money, there’s no way a couple can get through it all without having to process some tough information. But with a commitment to creating a grace-filled climate where candor can be freely exchanged, a couple will grow stronger and closer.
Jesus exchanged candid words with people he loved. When you look at the seven letters to the seven churches in Revelation 2 and 3, you see a gentle Savior saying some difficult things to the churches he loved enough to die for:
• The church at Ephesus: “Yet I hold this against you … ” (2:4)
• The church at Smyrna: “Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer …” (2:10)
• The church at Pergamum: “Nevertheless, I have a few things against you … ” (2:14)
• The church in Thyatira: “Nevertheless, I have this against you … ” (2:20)
• The church in Sardis: “Wake up!” (3:2)
• The church in Philadelphia: “Hold on to what you have … ” (3:11)
• The church in Laodicea: “You are neither cold nor hot … ” (3:15)
Jesus’ gracious heart constrained him to address areas these churches needed to deal with. Yet each letter was a love letter—a call to something greater, higher, and eternally noble. In the same way, there are all kinds of issues that need to be addressed in marriage. Sometimes they’re needs that come directly from the relationship. Others come from the way our spouse is dealing with people (perhaps your kids) or handling a certain challenge in life. Marriage needs to have a means by which we can speak into each other’s lives with gracious candor.
The freedom to be candid is more than just the ability to speak what’s on your heart to your spouse; it’s also their freedom to tell you what’s on their heart. This freedom to open your hearts to each other should be a light that’s always green. We need to reflect Jesus’ heart by allowing our spouse to feel they have ongoing permission to approach us with heavy issues on their heart—even if these heavy issues have to do with us.
What are the hours that God is available to process our hurts, frustrations, and fears? Nine to five? Monday, Wednesday, Friday, except holidays? Maybe just Sunday and high holy days? These are silly questions, aren’t they? In the same way that God is always available to us, we need to give our spouse permission to speak up whenever they need to.
At the same time, this isn’t license for a high controller or drama queen (or king) to feel like they can maintain an open-ended harangue or pick an inconvenient or inappropriate time for a discussion. Likewise, candor doesn’t mean that every time one spouse wants to talk, the other spouse is required to have a full-disclosure, let’s-roll-around-in-our-mess fest. Even God, with his Always Open sign, doesn’t permit us to abuse the privilege. James 4:3 addresses the issue of coming to God with wrong attitudes: “When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.”
All this said, God does indeed have an Always Open sign. He assumes an approachable posture that is saturated with grace. In Hebrews 4:16, the writer says, “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” We have access to God’s very throne room—his “throne of grace”—whenever we need it.
The reason our spouse needs to have this freedom with us is so we can keep bitterness from becoming a taproot in our relationship. Hebrews 12:15 says, “See to it that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.”
In our role as parents, Darcy and I knew we would do and say things that could cause our kids to struggle with disappointment. We were two imperfect people trying to raise four imperfect kids. That’s why we instituted “What’s Your Beef?” nights. These were dinners, declared in advance, where the kids could voice any frustrations or embarrassments they’d had to process because of something Darcy and I had done or said. We qualified that this was about personal things we’d done—not their frustration with the fact that we expected them to get up each morning, go to school, do their homework, and be nice to each other. We were referring to infractions against their hearts that we might have done either deliberately or unwittingly.
For dinner, we’d fix each child their favorite entrée and then go around table and let each of them discuss any of these issues. All Darcy and I were allowed to do was apologize. We weren’t allowed to put what we said or did in context or try to explain our bigger reasons. If we had done that, the kids would have seen that the game was fixed. Instead, we just apologized and asked for their forgiveness.
We did these dinners for two reasons: we didn’t want our children having to balance a chip on their shoulder that we had put there, and we wanted them to know they had the freedom to talk candidly to us about anything that was bothering them … at any time. They didn’t have to wait for a “What’s Your Beef?” evening to clear the air with us. We also wanted them to know they truly had the freedom to talk with us about anything, whether it was about fears they had, temptations they were wrestling with, or sins they had committed. We gave them the freedom to be candid.
What’s interesting is how easily Darcy and I were able to do this for our kids and how difficult it was for us to do it with each other. Candor is like the game of catch: it requires not only someone throwing something to us, but us catching it and throwing it back. I suppose this concept of catching and throwing could be seen in a negative light—if you’ve never played catch. We’re not talking about chucking rocks at each other. We’re talking about one of the greatest games of all time. Catch requires cooperation and a desire of each person to help the other person succeed. In a grace-filled marriage, spouses know they can vocalize their deep troubles or concerns graciously, and they are equally committed when they are the recipient to take the words to heart.
I think this calls for a shift in voice.
I’ve asked Tim to let me take over the keyboard again for a page or so. I want to weigh in with my story regarding the need for candor in a marriage. I had to learn the hard way what a wonderful gift this is to a marriage because candor was not part of my makeup when Tim and I got married. And when I saw what candor looked like, I didn’t want it to be part of our ongoing relationship either. Let me explain why.
I grew up in a family of six children. As you can imagine, my parents worked very hard to provide for our large family. But all families have issues. Mine was no exception. For me, the problem was that my dad was a workaholic and chose to operate emotionally distanced from all of us. After I learned some of the dark secrets about my dad’s childhood when I became an adult, his gruffness and harshness were explainable, even if they were never justified.
All six of us kids desperately wanted to gain his approval, and each of us, in our own way, used our natural strengths to strive for that blessing every child longs for from their father. I like things peaceful, and I like things perfect. So I tried very hard to minimize the tension between my father and me (read: never disagree or challenge misguided accusations). I also went the extra mile to make sure I did everything as well as possible.
To win my father’s blessing, I tried my best to be perfect at the things I did. For those of you who grew up in an alcoholic home, you probably know this is a typical tactic children use in those homes—especially daughters. Although my father was never an abuser of alcohol, his obsession with his work created some of the same toxic dynamics for us kids. I was careful to steer clear of the things I knew I couldn’t do at a high level of excellence. It’s easy to look better than you actually are if you never step out of your comfort zone. Image control is so duplicitous!
I thought if I could just stand out in everything I did and cause no waves in the process, I might catch my dad’s attention and maybe even get a nod of approval.
My father, who never used encouraging words when speaking to any of us kids, would nonetheless put us up on a pedestal and boast about his “trophy” family to his friends and colleagues. It was difficult to hear him brag about me to the people he worked with, when he would never speak words of appreciation to me directly. Rather than giving me a sense of approval, this insincere bragging made me want to be even more perfect.
Then I fell in love with Tim, the adventurer and risk taker. Tim naturally loved the things about me that I so carefully managed to do or present perfectly. But when we got married, he quickly found out that while I was well polished in some areas, I—like everyone else—had major gaps in my abilities and flaws in my attitudes.
When I was insensitive, acted unloving, or had a bad attitude—and he tried to discuss these things with me—I became defensive and stubborn. I did two things over and over: I threw the problem back on him as though it was all his fault, and I refused to admit that I had done anything wrong. How could I be wrong? I’d think. I’m supposed to be perfect—and if I’m not perfect, then who am I? His analysis and admonishment threatened the very core of how I had learned to define myself, as well as what I’d put in place to gain the approval of others.
So for many years of our marriage, instead of our being able to speak candidly to each other, I shut him off with self-righteousness and left him to work through his exasperation of knowing there was more to our disagreements than just his contribution to them.
Fortunately, Tim wasn’t satisfied allowing this to continue as a way of life for us, and I didn’t want it that way either. I was an heir of the gospel, of Jesus’ work for me on the cross. The more I learned about what the grace of Calvary truly was, the more my heart yearned for it to redefine me. Additionally, God’s grace continued to wash over me in the form of a grace-filled husband. I was able to find something in my marriage I never got to enjoy in my childhood. Tim began to show me that his love wasn’t like what I thought my dad’s love was—contingent on my behavior, my appearance, or my performance. He reminded me that everyone has flaws; we all get it wrong sometimes. His candor wasn’t a brutal honesty that only pointed out my missteps and failures; it was a kind and gentle journey to the foot of the cross to remind me that Christ died for my mistakes and loved me in spite of who I was, not because of who I was. And because of this journey we’ve taken in our marriage, I have come to trust that Tim also loves me, even with all my imperfections.
Talk about freedom! I no longer have to keep up an unsustainable effort to reach the unattainable goal (perfection). And this freedom doesn’t make me less focused on pleasing my husband; it makes me want to be even more of a loving wife. It’s the same way with Christ. His forgiveness and love don’t give us license to be selfish and do whatever we want; they compel us to love him more.
As you can see, both Darcy and I brought toxic issues to our marriage. We share that reality with every other couple who has ever exchanged vows. Just like you, we had a choice. We could let these issues rule our lives, define our partnership, and sully our love, or we could deal with them candidly, graciously, and with each other’s best interests in mind.
If someone were to capture the essence of grace-filled love in a song, it would sound more melancholy than upbeat, more blues than pop. Yet the best love songs are the ones about real people working through real issues and real imperfections to arrive at a meaningful lyric and a memorable tune. A candid exchange of the deeper matters of the heart between a husband and wife—within a culture of grace—can mold love into something far more valuable than anything it could ever have gained otherwise.
God designed marriage to be a safe place to work through our personal junk. Whether we’re giving or receiving, if we’re willing to let the love that saved us from our sin be the love that guides us on our way, we can serve each other’s best interests without turning these rough adjustments into war zones.
Before I leave this discussion on candor, I want to mention an overriding principle Darcy and I have learned that helps the process not only run more smoothly but reach a better conclusion more quickly. When you and your spouse are talking your way through tough issues, the goal of the discussion should always be unity, never victory. If you’re committed to a grace-filled marriage, you should never be motivated by “winning” an argument.
There’s a practical reason you don’t want to make it your aim to win the arguments you have with your spouse. If you consistently win arguments with your mate, guess what you get to sleep with every night? A loser! And if your spouse loses often enough, they might start thinking they’re a loser and acting like one.
Grace isn’t about showing up the other person. Victory is about self. Unity is about relationship. When it’s leading the way in difficult discussions, unity gets to enjoy its rightful place in our marriage because Christ enjoys his rightful place in our hearts.
This last dimension of grace is the hardest freedom for most people of faith to grant to their spouse. The reason it’s so tough is because in marriage, we’re no longer two but one. Our mistakes, whether past or present, affect both of us. Therefore, when our spouse really messes up, usually we have to pay a high personal price for their folly. Also, our spouse’s gigantic sins are often directed at us. So we must absorb a double-barreled shot. It stands to reason that we have a difficult time approaching these infractions with a grace-filled attitude.
Darcy and I have met a lot of couples who desperately needed to give a spouse the freedom to make mistakes but chose other paths when faced with the hard realities of trying to love someone who has let them down. I’d like you to meet one such couple. Their names have been changed, but their story will serve us well when it comes to understanding what grace looks like when our spouse makes extremely poor choices.
If you were looking for a guy with all the qualities you’d want in the man who marries your daughter, Chad was your poster boy, with charm, brawn, and drive. Tracy was first-string varsity level too. They both had the intelligence, connections, and financial head start most would assume would make a marriage-made-in-heaven partnership. And they were both followers of Jesus. That’s how they met—at church.
One more thing: They hadn’t chosen to take the standard sexual route to their marital bed that today’s culture encourages. Instead, both had decided to save the sexual part of their relationship for their wedding night. Because of it, they had one whoop-de-doo first night in their honeymoon suite. In fact, they had a whole week of them. All that week—sitting by the pool, taking walks on the beach, looking across candlelit meals at Tracy, and falling asleep with her spooned inside his arms—Chad couldn’t believe this was really going to be his life.
What he didn’t know was that it wasn’t remotely close to the life he would have with Tracy. And I’m not referring to the adjustments all couples make when they come home from their honeymoon to the responsibility of married life. He was ready for that. What he wasn’t ready for was Tracy’s almost immediate decline in sexual desire. At first, he just figured it was the demands of their busy lifestyle. But when the frequency of intimacy shifted from a couple times a week to weekly to monthly to (within three years) only Valentine’s Day and his birthday, he knew what he thought he had signed up for was something he might never have.
Which was when his mind and eyes started to drift.
Obviously, Chad and Tracy had talked about their lack of sexual intimacy. But the conversations left them both angry and sanctimonious about their indignation toward each other. She felt his expectations were selfish, that he should be more sensitive to her needs. He felt that the exact same argument could be used against her. The more he voiced his disappointment in their lack of intimacy, the less she felt like meeting him halfway. Discussions became arguments that became shouting matches that became days—and sometimes weeks—of avoiding any kind of meaningful conversation.
At the height of their frustrations, they did something that didn’t help their situation at all—they shared their disappointments with close friends. When you’re reacting emotionally and presenting a case from anger, it’s impossible to be objective. But objectivity was never their goal. They wanted their friends to validate their reasons for being angry with each other. The way she framed him in her girlfriends’ eyes left them to conclude that he was a sexually demanding, egotistical pervert. His friends were certain he married a woman who could make the iceberg that brought down the Titanic look like an ice cube by comparison.
Chad didn’t know that Tracy had brought a secret to their wedding. She wasn’t what she had advertised herself to be back when they met in church. It was a combination of preoccupied parents, the early arrival of the breast fairy, the interest of boys in general, and the interest of an adult man in particular. This man was a friend of the family who never forcefully molested her but became involved with her sexually while she was a minor. Legally, he could have been brought up on abuse and assault charges—and he should have been—but Tracy knew she had been a willing participant.
Who knows the ghosts that haunted this young girl? Regardless, she went from this man to others. But her sexual activity wasn’t the standard stuff that many teenagers get involved in. Tracy called what she pursued nothing less than brazen promiscuity—awful things that she had done and that awful men had done to her.
Then two things happened that helped her change direction. Her family moved to a different state, and she heard the gospel. She put her faith in Christ’s work for her on the cross, but unfortunately, she didn’t put her faith in his finished work on her behalf. She accepted the part about Jesus coming to save her from hell and give her eternal life. But she didn’t realize that he also came to free her from all the guilt and shame she had carried through her youth. He died so that she could gain a forgiveness that could put that stuff behind her forever.
She grew in her knowledge of God, but she never allowed Jesus to lift the burden of shame off her. It was in this corridor of time when she met Chad.
Many women in Tracy’s shoes feel the repercussions of previous sexual experiences on their honeymoons. Right out of the blocks, they feel shame and guilt. And these feelings often ruin the show. Tracy had at least risen above that. She was hoping her marriage would heal the wounds that were still wide open in her heart. Instead, it just accentuated them. Her sexual encounters with Chad reminded her of those many times with so many other men. She was repelled by the memories. In other words, Satan was wearing her like a cheap suit.
Chad and Tracy’s lack of sexual intimacy was complicated further when Tracy stopped exposing her naked body in front of Chad. In the early months of their marriage, she’d often jump in the shower with him and always dressed and undressed around him. Chad appreciated this part of his new life as a married man—especially married to such a beautiful woman as Tracy. But little by little, that, too, started to slip away from him. She’d shower with the bathroom door locked and get dressed after he had already headed to the kitchen for breakfast.
Chad had always thought, and even been taught, that one of the spiritual benefits of marriage for the man is that you don’t need to worry about wanting to fixate on other women, or the beauty of some image in a magazine or online, because you’ll have your bride’s body to gaze on each day like a gift from God. Well, the curtain fell on that show just after its opening act. Years of longing, pleading, and fighting had magnified the urge that had been growing in him to see what the Internet had to offer. He succumbed. Pornography sunk its hooks deep within him.
In time, Tracy found out his secret. He was embarrassed and immediately took responsibility for this awful alley he had chosen to go down. What Tracy came back with was not a response of a grace-filled wife who was sad to see Satan trying to steal her husband’s dignity and wreck their marriage. Hers was pure reaction—not untypical of the reaction of lots of women faced with the same dilemma with their husband. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me! You should be so ashamed of yourself.” (He was.) “It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting! I want you to keep your sleazy hands off of me!”
Tracy’s reaction involved disgracing him, punishing him, and isolating him from her (she made him move out). The ultimate humiliation for him was what she did to his reputation. She told the women in her Bible study (who, in turn, told their husbands), called her pastor about it, and then told her parents as well. He was utterly destroyed. She made absolutely sure there was nothing left of him.
Finally, they went to a counselor. In short order, this umpire of the soul rooted out Tracy’s secret from the deep hole where she had buried it and brought it out into the light of transparency. Now it was Chad’s opportunity to decide whether to respond or react. He took the low road. “You mean to tell me our sexual life has been held hostage all these years by some poor choices you made as a teenager? Let me make sure I’m getting this straight—all this time, I have been punished for someone else’s crimes against you? Tracy, I was the one who stepped forward to love you. I was the one who believed in you. And all this time, my lying awake next to you for so many nights over so many years wondering what was wrong with me was simply because you’d rather hurt me than deal with your issue?” The initial exchange didn’t go well.
There were many opportunities for Tracy to offer grace to Chad and for him to lavish grace on her. But because they were not committed to candor, they were held hostage by their secrets. And when the truth finally came out, they had no desire to be used by God to help each other process their setbacks and sins, so they denied that truth the power it had to set them free. As a result, they ended up as sock puppets to the enemy. What could have been radically different was denied because Chad and Tracy were unwilling to appropriate the same kindness, understanding, and forgiveness God had extended to them.
Chad and Tracy were nice folks when they started out. They genuinely loved each other and neither would have ever wished the misery they ultimately caused in the other’s life. But because they didn’t invite grace into their relationship, they became each other’s greatest adversaries.
Sexual promiscuity is a toxic lifestyle choice. Pornography is a serious breach of the intimacy in a marriage. There’s no question that what happens within these two worlds is not something anyone would want to treat lightly. But in all my years of working with couples within the family of faith, the more difficult issue is not how wretched the sinful traps are that people fall into, but how punitive the reaction is of believers close to these people who fall into these traps. I assume people are going to slip and fall hard on their faith journey. This isn’t to trivialize the enormous impact of their sin or to absolve them of responsibility or consequences. But if anyone should understand how treacherous, cunning, and relentless the forces of evil are, it should be someone who has been rescued from evil’s clutches by the gospel.
It’s sad to see the level of punishment one believer will pour out on another once they’ve learned that they’ve been let down. It makes me wonder, “Do these people have any clue what Christ did for them at the cross?” The answer, obviously, is that if they do, it’s either limited in scope or overshadowed by rage.
I can appreciate the reasons for hurt as well as anger. It hurts to find out your wife has been betraying your trust and punishing you because of something you had nothing to do with. I can appreciate the disappointment, embarrassment, and repulsion a woman must feel when she learns her husband has been sharing something with some phantom sex machine online that he was only to give her. If that’s all we allow our hearts to feel, there are only going to be cold, maybe even heartless, reactions.
But how would Jesus look at these same scenarios? He’d see the sin. He’d feel the thorns, the spikes, and the spear that sin cost him. But he’d also see the person—he’d see Tracy, defined by her shame, locked down in her regret, and his heart would break for her. He’d see Chad, with all of his secrecy, disgrace, and embarrassment, and he’d pity him.
One of the ways to measure how effectively we grasp the magnitude of God’s grace is this: When someone sins—and in particular, sins against us—what comes first to our mind? Is it anger? Maybe disappointment? Even more, thoughts of condemnation? Are we quick to start piling the rocks for the metaphorical stoning we think that person deserves? If these are the responses that surface first, most likely we have a restrictive view of God’s grace. Even more, we have a very small understanding of what he did for us personally.
You may say, “Tim, these sins are direct hits on the spouse you’re calling out. It’s the innocent spouse who must bear so much of the shame and hurt. These are sins that were done against this spouse.”
True. All of this is true. And if all we’re dealing with here is right and wrong, guilt or innocence, then this conversation would be over. But that’s not all we’re dealing with. We’re dealing with inherently valuable people who have lost their way, gotten sucked into Satan’s muck, or have let their weaknesses get the best of them. It doesn’t mean they aren’t guilty. It doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be consequences. But is our response in any way aligned with the way Jesus processes these same crimes? He was the innocent victim of the full brunt of our sin too. But he chose not to leave us or forsake us in the midst of processing the pain of our sin against him.
Jesus seems to keep two things separate in his mind. On the one hand are the person’s actions; on the other hand is the person. He maintains a righteous justice toward a person’s actions while at the same time never letting go of holy mercy toward the person. He never lets the momentary infraction overshadow the value of the eternal soul who committed that sin.
The men who brought to Jesus the woman they’d caught committing adultery (John 8) were focused only on her sin, with no regard for her as a person. They wanted her killed and hoped to use the opportunity to embarrass Jesus. Her sin was all that was important to them. She, as an individual, meant nothing. Jesus, however, saw her through a completely different lens.
In John 4, Jesus’ disciples got crossways with him when they discovered he had been sitting at a public well, exchanging recipes with a woman who had been married five times and was currently cohabitating with a man. Jesus wasn’t focused on her poor choices or the wretched life they had created for her, but rather the fact that she urgently needed grace. He saw a woman in desperate need of living water.
It’s hard to think of anything worse than betrayal. That’s what Chad and Tracy were processing in their marriage. Jesus knew what that blade felt like coming into his back. He also knew what it felt like when the person holding the knife was one of his best friends, Peter. But Jesus separated his attitude toward Peter’s upcoming denial from his love for him as a dear friend and processed each one accordingly (Matthew 26:31–35; Luke 22:31).
I have a close friend who is an orthopedic surgeon as well as a wise follower of Jesus. We were talking about the tendency Christian couples have to lash out at each other’s sin rather than extend God’s grace to rescue their spouse from their sinful free fall. He said, “A hypochondriac is a person who thinks they’re sick when they’re not. A hypocrite is a person who thinks they’re sinless when they’re not.”
We are more inclined to condemn when we’ve lost sight of the enormous forgiveness we’ve received from God. But we can rise above this in a grace-filled marriage. Darcy and I have found that our relationship is better when we preach the gospel to ourselves individually every day—when we remember the undeserved grace God has given us. It’s much easier to look past the pointed edges of our spouse’s sin—even with its personal cost to us—when we focus on their desperate need for rescue.
For Chad and Tracy, grace didn’t fill their relationship instantly. They both had three big issues: their personal sin, their frustration with each other’s sin, and their narrow view of grace. It was on this third issue that they camped first. Their counselor coached them on what lovers see when they view each other through the lens of God’s grace. This helped them take the next step of accepting responsibility and God’s forgiveness for their misdeeds. From there, the natural next step was to forgive each other. It’s hard to forgive someone else when you’ve withheld forgiveness from yourself.
They also added another dimension to their recovery: they stopped viewing each other as an enemy. Chad and Tracy had chosen to marry each other because of the value, potential, and hope they saw in each other. None of that had changed; it just got covered over by layer upon layer of anger and disappointment. Fortunately, they finally recognized their real enemy. The power of darkness was trying to steal their love, destroy their sexual intimacy, and wipe out their marriage.
Tracy began to see Chad through a lens that wanted to protect him from pornography and encourage him as he waged war against its pull. They faced it as a team, but they weren’t going to rely on just the commonsense steps that help minimize exposure. They wanted an inside-out, top-to-bottom victory over the influence of pornography. One way Tracy felt she could help Chad fight this battle was to make sure he wasn’t going around sexually hungry.
Equally, Chad’s heart ached for what Tracy had endured in her wayward teenage years. He identified with the desperate struggle she had borne for so long as a result of those years. They also took responsibility for the damage they had done to each other’s reputation. Fortunately, they found out there were more grace-filled couples in their circle of friends than they realized—couples who were willing to join them in their fight against their real enemy. When Chad and Tracy decided to lock arms and fight their real enemy together with God’s power—instead of donning their armor and beating up each other—God’s grace rained down over them. He gave them a new love and a safer, clearer path to follow together, and ultimately, he restored the passion of their honeymoon bed.
Before we lay this discussion to rest, I need to make clear that although grace needs to be the lens through which we view our spouse’s sins, there is a need for genuine repentance on the part of the one who has failed. Repentance is the first step toward God and has to be a first step toward our spouse when we’ve let them down.
True repentance doesn’t minimize the severity of sin, make excuses, or pass the buck. It stands up, speaks up, owns up, and then shuts up. It assumes there are consequences for actions and willingly steps forward to take its lumps. Anything short of this is just you or your spouse blowing smoke where the sun doesn’t shine.
Without genuine repentance, the healing process can’t truly begin. But even if one member of the wedding photo is resistant to God’s convicting work, grace can still play a role in the relationship. The consequences might be tougher and restoration put on hold, but God is glorified when we fight for our marriage, pray like mad, and trust him to deal with our unrepentant spouse.
Some of you reading this carry some serious marital scars. Your spouse has done some things that have made it hard to believe there’s any hope for happiness in the future. Or maybe it’s you who has delivered the bigger blows to the relationship. If you listen to the voices riding the wind around you, they’d say, “Cut your losses and dump the dude.” That’s the easy way out. For some of you, because of things over which you have no control, it may be all you’re left with. However, last time I checked, God is the God of miracles.
I can’t speak for you, but I hate it when the forces of evil win. Jesus went to a lot of trouble to kick Satan’s sorry rear at a crossroads outside of Jerusalem. He wanted the victory he scored to resonate down through the end of time. Let it echo in you. Trust him. Believe his promises. Let his Word lift you up. He’s a bigger God than any mess you or your spouse could have made.
As we close this chapter, let’s review where we’ve been. We learned that grace thrives in the heart of our spouse when we make it our priority to meet their need for a secure love, a significant purpose, and a strong hope. We can infuse the fresh air of grace into our marriage when we give our spouse the freedom to be different, vulnerable, candid, and to make mistakes. All of these are counterintuitive unless we’ve been transformed by God’s grace. But if we have, he can make these freedoms part of the climate of our marriage.
I don’t know what you’re facing in your marriage. You may feel that the consequences of poor attitudes and dumb choices have thrown your hopes to the wind. They may be issues involving your kids, money, parents, sex, work, ex-spouses, church, or unfaithfulness. God’s grace wants to help you navigate through it all. There’s love and mercy waiting for you over the horizon in the safe harbor of God’s peace. Don’t let life’s contrary winds determine your destination—like a wise sailor, tack right into the worst of them with God’s strength and watch him pull you through to calmer seas and a secure harbor. And don’t be surprised if during the worst of the storm—when it looks like you’ve absorbed so much of its fierceness that you’re sure you’re going to sink—you sense his presence nearby and hear his voice call from the middle of its wail, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid” (Matthew 14:27).
Your marriage is too important. Your family is too important. You’re too important. And God’s glory is worth it all.