Newlyweds seek the secrets of successful marriage.
Starting our journey…
Everyone goes into marriage with the best intentions, so why doesn't it always work out? In our first year of marriage, we are intentionally seeking ways to make our marriage last a lifetime.
Mr. Wonderful and I don’t fight very often, but when we do, it’s tough.
We don’t fight like most couples. In fact, I even hesitate to call it fighting. We don’t really yell at each other. Instead of fiery anger, our fights are characterized by heavy disappointment. Don’t underestimate how damaging disappointment can be. It’s quieter, but it burrows itself in your heart and settles there. Then it stakes in a big “No Trespassing” sign that keeps even loved ones at a distance.
Fighting with Matt is unlike any kind of fighting I’ve ever experienced. Even when I’m disappointed in him, or when I feel hurt, I want to air my grievances, but I don’t want him to become angry at himself and be miserable. I simply want him to understand, feel remorse for his part, and move forward. I don’t want to dwell.
We are one. What hurts me hurts him, and vice versa. Last weekend I felt hurt, but seeing Matt beat himself up for his behavior only made my heart ache more. Him dwelling on his mistake would not heal my hurt. I only needed apology and reassurance of his love to heal.
They say that marriage is supposed to bring you closer to God. In our fighting over the weekend, something of the nature of God was revealed to me.
When I fall short of the goodness of God, when I disappoint Him and sin against Him, He is hurt, but He doesn’t want me to wallow in despair at what a weak, horrible person I am. Jesus loves his people, and He wants to see them vibrant and full of the life He gave them, not mired in self-hatred. All we can do, and all He expects, is to feel remorse, apologize, and move forward.
Dwelling does not help or heal anyone. Love moves forward.
Last weekend Matt and I tried out a new church in Seattle. If you’re like me and you’ve done any sort of church search, it always comes with just a little bit of dread.
As much as the church is supposed to be grace-filled and welcoming, churches are families. (That’s why congregations are often called “church family.”) You have a rough idea of how service is supposed to go, but just like every family, there are unspoken rules. And you don’t know what they are until you break them. And if you break them you will go to hell.
Well, not quite. But it can feel like it.
We decided to try a Methodist church, partly because it was familiar, and partly because it was a change from where we had been going. I went to a Methodist church when I was a kid, and I have never felt quite as at home at church as I have at that one. Maybe it’s because I was born into it. Or maybe it’s because I was a kid when I went there, and what church doesn’t dote upon children? Regardless, I had a really hard time feeling like I fit in at the next church we went to, and at all subsequent churches I never felt like I had become an essential part of the church family—like I would be missed if I left.
This was particularly true at the last church we went to, which was a big, slick, and evangelical. Matt and I both tried to connect there, but it just didn’t work. At one point, I did feel like I was gaining ground, becoming truly part of the church, but then they changed formats and I lost any ground I had gained.
Having thriving youth and young adult groups is fantastic, but perhaps infusing church leadership with nothing but youthful dreams and schemes isn’t the best way to form a rich faith community. It was tumultuous. In thinking about what we want out of a church, Matt and I realized that we want something a little more stable and a little less commercial (for lack of a better word). We didn’t want to be ignored, forgotten, or left behind at church again.
We went to a Methodist church, which had a service that was much more traditional than I had experienced in a while. There were no projection screens with video of singers raising their hands and furrowing their brows. No coffee shop in the lobby. No church store. Just people who greeted us, introduced themselves by name, and handed us a program. Hymnals in every pew. Yes, pews (!) instead of stadium seating. Scripture reading several paragraphs long, printed right in the program, instead of served up in easily swallowed bits on screen.
Old school? Yes, and refreshing.
But what came as the most surprise to us was the message, titled “Embrace Your Sexuality.” It’s part of a healthy relationships sermon series. And, for once, I heard a church sermon about sexuality that wasn’t the restrictive or prescriptive message I was used to: “Woe to you if you have sex before marriage! But if you’re married, you’d better jump in the sack! (And that means you, wives.)”
I’m not going to re-hash everything he said here, because it wouldn’t do the message justice. But in general, the pastor talked about how the church often embraces two kinds of love and refuses to acknowledge the sacredness of the third. The two it readily embraces are the Greek philia and agape love. That is, the familial, brotherly love and the self-sacrificial love. But the other kind of love, the eros love, is what encompasses romance and sexuality. He talked about how the church often creates this notion that sexuality and spirituality are separate, that sexuality is to be repressed for spirituality to be heightened. Instead, he said, we should recognize our sexuality as an incorporated part of our spiritual self.
On top of this refreshing message, I noticed half way through the service that the couple in front of us was gay. I don’t know why it took me so long to register this, because I was sitting directly behind a man with his arm around another man. But as soon as I realized it, I smiled. I was excited and joyful to be in a house of worship where this kind of acceptance is possible.
It struck me how backwards it is that just a few miles away there is a mega church that is progressive in every sense except its beliefs, and these men would not be welcome there, even if they were greeted with smiles. Yet there, in this traditional service, with hymns and scripture reading, they fit right in.
It’s unfortunate that we started with this book. I probably should have just stopped reading after the first few chapters. But I read the whole thing. Matt, at this point, has read half of it and that’s as far as he will go.
Our first clue that this book would be, to put it kindly, disappointing, should have been that the authors have no credentials other than the fact that they are authors, speakers, and recording artists. Their bio says nothing about their education, much less any marriage counseling experience. And for all of their Christianese, they aren’t even pastors. They simply work hard to be able to say whatever it is that they want.
With this dearth of experience and study to call upon, it’s not surprising that the only examples and evidence in their marriage book center around themselves and their experiences. So, if you’re like Eric and Leslie Ludy, this book is for you. But I would venture to guess that most people are not like them. Unless you went to Bible college and live in the Midwest or South, then… maybe.
The foundational principles of the book are good. You need to work to have an excellent marriage. You should shoot for more than “Let’s try not to get a divorce.” Being more Christlike will improve your marriage. But Mr. Wonderful and I are not your ultra-conservative, Bible-thumping brand of Christian, and we have some personality differences with the Ludys that make it difficult for us to relate to them and find value in their advice.
For example, the Ludys are all about maintaining “dignity” the “feminine mystique” in marriage. Therefore, natural body functions are to be kept in check at all times. God actually frowns upon you when you pee in front of your partner. Heaven forbid you fart. A belch should not be assigned a number. And–I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING YOU WITH THIS–husband and wife should have separate bathrooms if at all possible, so that the wife can turn the master bathroom into a “Beauty Palace” like Leslie’s. Seeing your wife shave her legs ruins the “mystique,” I suppose.
In short, the Ludys think we’re barbarians.
Now, I can understand if you lived with a person you had little to no respect for, or you couldn’t have meaningful conversation with, or didn’t contribute to the relationship, that them walking around burping, farting, and scratching would put a major damper on the marriage. But the problem still wouldn’t lie with the burping, farting, and scratching, but with the deeper issues at play.
Matt and I have different expectations for marital intimacy than the Ludys, and, yes, it includes being able to burp, fart, scratch, and even (Gasp!) pee in front of each other. Instead of cursing nature and these wretched, dirty bodies we’ve been given, we embrace each other’s humanness, even when it’s not pretty. There is beauty in that. Because I know that even when I first wake up in the morning and my breath smells and my eyes are puffy and my hair is a mess, my Mr. Wonderful thinks I’m beautiful. Even if I’m wearing sweats and no make-up, he finds me attractive. He is able to cherish me when I am undignified, and I him. The “feminine mystique” is not necessary to sustain his love.
The Ludys, like most conservative Christians, are also eager to attempt to delineate the differences between the sexes. Matt and I didn’t find any of this differentiation useful, as I am not like Leslie, and he is not like Eric. They talk a lot about their ideas of “masculine nobility” and “feminine dignity” (as if only men can be noble, and only women dignified), which in the end is a waste of time, because both sexes are supposed to emulate Christ, who was ONE person, not two. Are we to split Christ in half? These qualities for women, those for men? I have never understood why religious groups find it so important to focus on the differences between the sexes and prescribe God-approved gender expression. In the end it is all babble, because people of both sexes have more commonalities than differences.
Ultimately, we got the feeling that the Ludys would hate us, because our story is nothing like theirs. They believe that they have done everything God’s way, and therefore if you do anything differently than them, you’re not doing it right. But Matt and I believe that God has been a part of our love story, too, and He doesn’t frown when we let our guard down around each other. He doesn’t require that we conform to anyone’s ideas of femininity or masculinity. He made us as we are, and he made us right for each other.
Because of this book, Matt and I decided to scrap the list that we had made of books we will read throughout the year. We want to be free to move on to books that are more helpful, not be tied to a list. So we’re looking for more marriage books. If you have any lying around that you don’t want or need anymore, we’d love it if you passed them along to us!
Do you have any marriage book recommendations? What should we read next?