Conclusion

A More Perfect Union

Husband: Did you pick up my suit at the cleaners?
Wife: I’m sorry.
Husband: You never listen, do you?
Wife: Hey, I’ve got a lot on my mind.
Husband: Well, I’m certainly not on your mind.
Wife: That’s not true.
Husband: You’ve got a memory like a sieve.
Wife: Hey! You’ve got a car. Get your own suit! (storms out of the room).

Have you noticed that when couples fight, the issue is rarely the issue? The smallest rain cloud can produce a thunderstorm between spouses.

My codependent parents used to fight over the silliest things: a lost checkbook, a late supper, which TV show to watch. They would have the same fight over and over—even repeating the same phrases. Dad would attack. Mom would defend herself or attempt to pacify him. But Dad could not be calmed, since he was not really angry about the issue at hand. He was angry about his past.

Dad had a very tough childhood. His parents divorced when he was three. He was sickly and spent a year in bed with rheumatic fever. He had some awful experiences in the army. Each time, Protector saved him from deep despair—but also locked a good portion of his heart away.

In many ways, my dad was a great guy—gregarious, generous, and loving, in an odd way. But when he was angry, he became a petulant child. He threw tantrums. His words were petty and illogical. Listening to my raging father was like hearing a ten-year-old arguing on the playground.

Now that I’ve visited the headwaters of my own soul, I understand what was up with Dad. Every few days the child inside him would rattle the bars of the cell. “Let me out!” he would scream. Dad couldn’t literally say this, since he didn’t recognize his own captivity. So the pressure built inside of him until he could contain it no longer. He fixated on something at hand and yelled about that. The issue was never the issue.

My father could have been freed. Jesus Christ held the keys, but Dad never knew it. Our family went to church for a few years when I was a little boy. Dad was even a Sunday school teacher. But one day Dad got mad at our pastor. We quit going to church. In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if we’d stayed. Our Lutheran congregation was into personal morality and charitable works. Churchmen of the 1960s did not know the conditions of their own hearts—much less how to liberate other men.

When you and your husband have conflict, recognize that his fury may not spring from the issue at hand. When his anger explodes (or smolders) over some small thing, recognize that his overreaction may be that of a captive young man calling for help.

Now, on the other hand, don’t patronize your husband. Sometimes his pique is justified. If you overdraw the checking account twice a month, he has every right to be upset. Don’t automatically dismiss his anger as the ravings of his wounded inner child. I’m merely saying that a lot of men’s rage comes from their past; that doesn’t mean he never has the right to lose his temper. Jesus lost his—quite often, in fact.

You’ll never eliminate all conflict from your marriage. This is not a realistic or desirable goal. Conflict is healthy—if it’s handled in the right way. You probably can’t change the way your husband deals with conflict, but you can change the way you do.

Now I’m going to ask you to turn the camera onto yourself. You were hurt as a little girl. You also practice self-protection. You learned how to survive in your household: perhaps your tormentor was a teasing brother, an alcoholic father, a smothering mother. A lot of women bring their survival strategies into marriage as well.

Here’s something you may not know about yourself: You see your husband through the lens of your father. You often react to him the way you reacted to Dad. And if you had no father, you may bring abandonment issues into your marriage.

I know one woman (let’s call her Kate) who was raised by an angry father. The only time he showed her affection was after he had yelled at her and wanted to make up. She actually began to look forward to his outbursts because she knew that once he settled down she’d be basking in her father’s love.

Kate grew up and married a very calm man named “Stu.” She spent years picking at him, provoking him to anger, because this was the only way she knew how to get love from a man. Eventually, Kate hauled her husband into the counselor’s office to find out why he was so angry with her all the time. In less than an hour, the counselor identified the core issue. Kate was horrified to learn the truth. She begged her husband’s forgiveness. She immediately stopped needling Stu and learned to ask for his affection. Plus she gave Stu permission to call her up short if she ever lapsed into her old behavior. Their marriage was saved.

Even women with good, caring fathers learn negative habits from Dad. “Samantha” had a wonderful father, but he traveled a lot on his job. When she was eight she became very ill. Daddy rushed home to be with her. That incident taught her that being sick got her the attention of her father. For years, Samantha battled a host of psychosomatic illnesses. She brought this strategy into her marriage, always falling ill when her husband was preparing to be away. She had no idea her illnesses were imagined, despite getting a clean bill of health from three different doctors. It never occurred to her to speak openly with her husband of her fear of abandonment. Instead, she subconsciously resorted to her old survival strategy in a vain attempt to get what she needed.

Dear reader, if you want a more open and honest relationship with your husband, both of you are going to have to learn to stop playing these kinds of games. You must learn to speak up and ask for what you want. It may be easy to identify the ways your husband is self-protecting—but it takes courage to admit that you may be self-protecting as well.

Hear the promise of Jesus: “You will know the truth. And the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). Both you and your husband need to:

If every married couple could get to this point, books like this one would become unneeded. There would be almost nothing your husband would be unwilling to tell you.