Love puts up
{From April 2013. Had to share in honor of Friday’s marriage conference!}
“Love … puts up.”
-1 Corinthians 13
I flipped open the laptop–there on the keyboard lay the photo.
I shook my head and smiled, a little surprised at the emotion welling up in my eyes. It’s been 12 years of passing that thing back and forth, sneaking it into unexpected places for the other to find. Both book lovers, we had perused the small used book store at the beach as newlyweds, sorting through dusty titles, searching for some hidden literary gem. I don’t remember what we bought, but when we got it home, tucked within the pages was this polaroid picture.
Now it’s been tucked into places more times than I can count. It’s spoken a thousand words. We’ve tucked it in at times to say, “I’m sorry.” At times it means, “Just thinking of you.” And at times it means so much more. But whenever I see this photo it’s like another stitch, like pulling that thread taut and tugging so slightly, so all the stitches tighten. This picture reminds me of all the stitches over the years and pulls them tighter together.
And now, you’re away. This afternoon you drove off, and Heidi waved her little arm until we couldn’t see you anymore, and I felt silly for feeling so sad. It’s only a week, after all. But suddenly I remembered yesterday, how I had sighed (the classic victim-SAHM sigh) as I sorted through your middle pile. How I eyed you accusingly when you shelled pistachios right after I’d cleaned the counters. How I only half-listened this morning when you shared your idea with me. (How could I forget how much courage it takes to speak dreams out loud?) I remembered how you let me eat your french fries today and how you met us for a picnic when I’m sure you had more pressing things to do. And I remembered how you worked all afternoon fixing the lawn mower, and surprised me with Peet’s coffee for my trip this weekend. Then I remembered how I gave you the stink eye when you ate the last of the caramel corn.
How I left today without even doing your laundry. And how you said no big deal and cheerfully dug through the dirty clothes to find enough socks to wash and take on your trip.
Why do I love so pathetically?
I stared off, sad for all the ways I haven’t loved you more. But then, this picture somehow centered me. It always does.
Because you put it there and it tells me, all over again, that love covers a multitude of sins.
It is us, in so many ways. The faux wood panelling is hideous, of course, and I love it. The artwork is off-centered, and not in an artistic way. The purple and red pillows are delightfully strange, but the faces are the best.
He is Just. So. Happy.
His hand is on her thigh, his tie is huge, and he’s just grinning from ear to ear.
She, well, she’s half-smiling, but really thinking of what to make for dinner.
I am this woman, except I have better hair.
She’s putting up with the picture-taking (and him?) even though she’d rather be checking some ridiculous item off her list.
He’s just happy with his hand on her leg. The End.
He puts up with her half-smile just as she puts up with his beam.
And that’s the beauty of it: Love puts up.
Because not all romance is wild passion all the time. Because I put up with your stuff and you put up with mine. And because even though this couple isn’t running barefoot down a beach, their love is compelling to me. Because that’s just it: Love puts up. Because at different times last week each of us wanted to pack up and quit this ministry life. And both times the other one of us simply put up. Listened. Waited. Stayed quiet. Prayed. And both times we came around.
Because real love is so different than it is on TV. So much better. Because even the “putting up” part is good. It’s the time walking together in the valleys.
It’s the spaces in between the milestones, where you just keep holding hands and holding on.
Kind of like this:
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end. (1 Corinthians 13:3-7 MSG)
Thanks for putting up with me, my love. I really am sorry about the laundry.
{Thanks, all, for reading.}
*Originally shared April 2013.
Because I don't want to be two trains …
{Originally posted June 2013}
This picture was taken 10 years ago today. (Um…. Could Jeff be any happier?!)
Neither of us cared much about a fancy wedding, so the flowers were fake, from Joann’s fabric, and the dress was borrowed from a friend. We married at my parents’ house–on a 95-degree day–and were surprised when we got to the cake-cutting part and discovered a three-tier wedding cake. Apparently someone made one for us because we had just planned on Costco sheet cakes. Surprise!
That’s kind of been the story of our life: Surprise!
We drove off into the distance, hootin’ and hollarin’ and thanking God we got to leave alone! We had waited for our wedding day to even kiss each other (Seriously.) All we really wanted was each other, so once the formalities ended we bolted for the honeymoon–17 days in Hawaii (!) thanks to my generous parents.
We had a blast. Everywhere we went people kept telling us to stop kissing. We did everything together, wondering why on earth people wanted to have “Girls’ night out” or “Guys night out.” Why would anyone want to be away from their spouse, ever??? We threw ourselves into the busy ministry life, ate ice cream together way too often and played card-games on the kitchen floor late at night, always dreaming big for our life ahead, together.
We were, in every way, ONE.
Shortly after our wedding, we attended a funeral together. I have no idea who died. A friend of a friend of a friend, perhaps? I don’t even remember why we were there. But the guy who died, whoever he was, was a big deal. Maybe in politics or something? I can’t remember. But he was a big deal, and she was a big deal, and a lot of people were there because they were a big deal.
And when it came time for the wife to speak, she talked about how they each had own life. He had his life and she had his, but that it was good, their marriage like that was good. She said,
“We were two trains running on parallel tracks.”
Everyone nodded and smiled, as if in agreement about the beauty of two trains running on parallel tracks.
After the funeral Jeff and I made our way to the car. Once inside, we looked at each other. Jeff’s spoke my thoughts:
“Babe, I don’t want to be two trains running on parallel tracks.”
Those simple words have haunted me ever since. At that point, it was easy to be one. We did everything together, just us, fun crazy stuff, making memories and laughing all the way:
We traveled to Israel, swam in the Dead Sea …
…and rode camels together, holding on for dear life.
And then we really held on for dear life, because after visiting some friends in Boston we …
…(SURPRISE!) had a baby!
And everything changed.
I remember this night, when Dutch was six months old. It was our first “night out” together, just us, at a wedding at Steve Ballmer’s house in Washington (Thanks, Jeremy & Mari). We had just moved in with my parents, left our jobs, and were finishing seminary. So many things had been stripped away. And that night we danced on the boat dock, laughed ourselves silly, and finally awoke from the fog of 2am feedings and dirty diapers. We adored our son but this was good … and the time together was that much sweeter, because we’d walked through some struggle, together.
And at Mom and Dad’s, I’m smiling here but didn’t smile much in those days. Despite my wonderful parents I was so down, so often. Hard, long days with a baby, and no car or phone and Jeff was gone a lot and we with no money and no job and no idea how on earth the future would work out. I smiled here, but so often I cried. But he held me fast and one day came home and said, “I bought you a little something. For $13, I bought www.karipatterson.com.” And my darkness found light, and my thoughts found words, and this little blog began and my soul found space to breathe.
And then, “Surprise!” Heidi came. And I had wept because what would happen? And we needed an income and health insurance and where would we live? And one by one God provided everything–the job, a temporary home, and–crazy miracle–the “coincidence” of double-coverage for a 2-week period: Right when she was born. And we laughed ourselves silly at His provision and then five days later I cried myself to sleep as the house that we were renting sold and it meant packing up these babies and moving (again!) and where would we go? And we sat that night at Carl’s Jr. (don’t ask me why) and ate french fries and wrote down on a napkin, “We trust God.” And we wrote the date and carried that napkin everywhere, just to remind us. That no matter what: We trust God.
And we walked that rocky shore, both kids in tow, and smiled at the future. He’d be in it.
And He did come through, again. Those generous Dombrows opened their home, and then the apartment, and then the “dream home.” And we moved in and life was perfect and we were living the dream. And Kimberly Stone took these family photos and it was the one strangely quiet time of our life–like the calm before the storm.
Then I wore the cap and gown, then he wore the cap and gown, and we donned our hoods and finally ended the long trudge through seminary–us both tired but glad we did it.
And then, things got crazy again. The Hole In Our Gospel turned our world upside down nothing looked the same and my dream life wasn’t dreamy anymore. But in that wild ride He changed us and gave us unity and strength, and we met up with World Vision and that trip up there, to Seattle–it was for the best thing for us. Reminding us we were one, together, not two trains but ONE.
And we started pursuing a simpler life. We moved to our dumpy rental on Hazelhurst Lane, picked berries and quit keeping up with the Jones’s, whoever they were.
And then this year we took another flying leap of faith, planting RENEW Church, welcoming our housemate, and moving (our 13th time in 10 years!). And it was hard and good and I was writing e-books and working on the real book, and speaking and traveling and life was just so full. And you planned the special trip, just us, to the Church-Planting conference, and when we arrived at the airport at midnight and we’d missed the hotel shuttle so — surprise! — they sent us a limo instead. We sat in the green light in the back of the limo, reminded again we don’t want to be two trains.
But honestly … it’s hard.
We’ve jam-packed a lot into ten years–13 moves, 8 combined years of seminary, 4 different church ministry jobs, church-planting, two kids, blogging, book-writing, speaking, traveling … we sat down just a few days ago, a bit of painful reflection as we realize:
It’s all too easy to be two trains, running on parallel tracks.
Life is so full and we serve and love and answer the phone and meet the needs and run the errands and fix whatever’s broken this time on the house. And if there is one nugget of truth we’ve gleaned from these ten years it’s this:
It’s a lot easier to just be two trains than it is to truly be one.
It’s easier to just be partners. Have a business relationship. Serve each other and raise the kids and get the job done, but marriage isn’t a picture of a business partnership —
It’s a picture of crazy romance and unparalleled love. The love of the Son for His bride, the church.
And so together, today, we’re committing afresh to that love. To turn again to one another. To pursue one another, not just getting stuff done. To laugh more and do a little bit less.
We’re committing to a shorter list of things to do and a longer list of things we’re grateful for.
So, dear reader, thanks for letting me share this–a short history of our 10-year journey of marriage. I am a most imperfect wife loving a most imperfect husband, and we commit afresh today to this thing called marriage–a picture of Jesus’ extravagant love for us.
Perhaps you may commit afresh today too?
And now, would you bless me? Would you share with us the best Marriage Advice you have received? Either from your own experience or that someone has shared with you? We’d LOVE to read your thoughts as we celebrate our anniversary this weekend. THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading! And Happy Anniversary, my Love!
Bill Zyp: Celebration of Life {livestream}
Celebration of life for Bill Zyp will be hosted by Foothills Community Church, 122 Grange St, Molalla, Oregon on Thursday, April 4th, 2 PM. Livestream posted here, which will remain online as recording.Read More
If you could change one thing about your life what would it be?
If you could change one thing about your life what would it be?
If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
Now: What if the first was the secret to the second, and the second the secret to the first?
And what if the key to life-change, to breakthrough and transformation and extraordinary growth, is just waiting for you within the ordinary life you already live?
What if it’s been right in front of you all along?
Read More
Karen Zyp: Celebration of Life {livestream}
Hi friends, it has been a whirlwind few weeks. My sweet mama passed away on New Year’s Eve. Here is the livestream link for her Celebration of Life service on Saturday, January 15th at 3pm PST. I’ll write more about her life in the weeks to come.
Karen Elizabeth (Zoet) Zyp passed away December 31st, 2021 in her home, surrounded by her family. She was born March 2, 1945 in Aloha to Howard and Francis Zoet. Two years later her sister Linda was born who would become her lifelong best friend. On December 26th, 1970, she married the love of her life, William (Bill) Zyp of Woodburn. A school teacher, she joyfully and passionately instilled in her students a love for learning, insisting that each child deserved individual attention. Bill & Karen enjoyed 51 years of marriage together, building four homes, traveling, boating, and raising their two children. Karen gave herself wholly and sacrificially to nurturing, teaching, and caring for her kids. A faithful prayer warrior, she enlisted those around her to pray as well, serving as the State Coordinator for Moms in Touch, an organization that mobilizes moms to pray on-site for schools throughout the state. In 2003, Karen was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and so began a long difficult journey. Her husband Bill faithfully and tirelessly cared for her until her dying breath. She is survived by her husband, Bill, sister Linda (& Dan) Hardman, son Kris (& Nikki) Zyp, and daughter Kari (& Jeff) Patterson. As a grandmother she is known as beloved “Oma” to Dutch, Jennika, Heidi, Korban, Justice, and Benjamin. They all want to express their deepest gratitude for your prayers, presence, and loving support.
Celebration of life hosted by Foothills Community Church in Molalla, Oregon on Saturday, January 15, 3 PM.
Great news! Super-sale on Sacred Mundane AND …
… The day before Thanksgiving we got to hear the sweetest sound, a sound we’ve longed to hear for such a long time:
The sound of our baby’s heartbeat.
Yes, I’m sharing now. It’s still early, and I know it’s not “safe” to share. But if I’ve learned one thing from this life — nothing’s safe that’s not committed to Christ, everything’s safe that is.
So I share with you, faithful readers who patiently follow my meanderings and ramblings, and ask you to please pray for this sweet child of ours, who even now is being wonderfully knitted together by the Maker, in my womb.
And, this Saturday is my last speaking event, as I’m taking all of 2018 off speaking. It’s been 10 years teaching, exploring the sweet Scriptures with so many of you dear and wonderful women, and I’m so unspeakably grateful …
… but this mama is ready for a season of rest.
So this is our year of jubilee, of sorts. We’re letting the ground lie fallow. Giving ourselves a little more space. And celebrating the goodness of God these last 10 years and shifting gears for new seasons ahead. I’ll still be writing here, of course, so stay tuned, and I may do a weekly podcast so I still have an opportunity to rant and rave about the goodness of God! 😉 Lord willing, I’ll be back to speaking in 2019.
Lastly, we are SUPER excited to offer you a super-duper SALE on Sacred Mundane, right here, just in time for Christmas. From now through December 18th, while supplies last, we’re offering Sacred Mundane for cheaper than Amazon (or anywhere else! Even cheaper than kindle!) with free shipping! I only have 188 copies left in my garage ;), so when they’re gone they’re gone, but I’d love to get them to you! It’s a great time to snag one for your sister, mom, friends, neighbors.
Below you’ll find the book trailer, if you’d like to share that’d be great! Also, if you have read the book or know others who have: Would you consider writing a review on Amazon? (Even if you bought it elsewhere.) Reviews are a huge blessing to me!
Thank you so much for journeying along with me this year. It’s been hard and good. I hope this book has been and will continue to be a blessing to you. Please consider sharing it this holiday season!
(If links above won’t work for you, simply copy-and-paste either of these links:
https://squareup.com/store/sacred-mundane
https://mkt.com/sacred-mundane
Thank you!)
{Thanks for reading.}
Sacred Mundane: an Invitation to Find Freedom, Purpose, and Joy
This year: homeschool your heart
Hey friends! I’ve been unplugged this week and I apologize for the late notice, but we’re over at Simple Homeschool right now sharing about tending your heart, and offering a Sacred Mundane giveaway! This topic is more certainly applicable to us all, not just homeschoolers, so I hope you’ll check it out! Giveaway ends Sunday morning early, so head on over and leave a comment to win! Thanks for reading.
~
I‘ve been there more times than I care to admit — looking ahead at the new school year and searching for just the right change: a new book, a new method, a new schedule. If I just change up this or that, maybe it’ll be that magic bullet?
Certainly, sometimes a tweak here and there truly helps. But more often than not, you know the one thing that most needs to change?
Me.
Nine times out of ten, the issue isn’t the workbook, it’s my mindset. {Read the rest here…}
10 years ago today… {Don’t just “be a good _____.”}
Ten years ago today, I birthed my words into the world for the very first time.
I was in a dark season, nursing a fussy baby and living with my parents. It was smack dab in the middle of the 50-month season of silence I discuss in Sacred Mundane. Jeff knew I needed something, an outlet, a way to express my angst and process my feelings.
He bought me karipatterson.com for $13 and told me I now had a blog.
I had never heard of a blog. At this point people had MySpace accounts, and that didn’t interest me. A blog sounded even less desirable–like a mix of a slog, a bog, and a log. None of those were appealing, but I did believe with all my heart that I was called to write.
At that point it had already been about seven years since I first heard “Sacred Mundane” whispered to my soul. I knew I was meant to live first, and eventually, write a book by this title, but I may as well have been called to walk on the moon, the distance seemed so vast between where I was and where I hoped to be.
Jeff opened the window on my browser, showed me how to click the “Publish” button, and told me to write every day.
So I did. I began with our love story, When God Broke My Heart, and went from there. I didn’t know how to add pictures or share posts (I didn’t even have a FB account). I think I had two subscribers–Jeff and my mom.
But it was a freeing place to play with words. It was fun to experiment with expression, to attempt to articulate complex emotions, conflicting feelings, confusing situations. I enjoyed the regularity of writing every day, whether I felt like it or not, knowing no one was probably reading it anyway so it was okay to just be raw and real. I wasn’t trying to wow anyone, I just enjoyed words and played with them until they best expressed my heart.
Then I tried my hand at some magazine articles. Not one of them were published.
They were awful because when I wrote them I was trying to be a good writer. Anything I’ve written while “trying to be a good writer” has usually turned out terribly. Even as I edited Sacred Mundane and revisited portions written several years ago, I could easily identify, “Oh, I was trying to be a good writer right there. Delete it all.”
Why is “trying to be a good writer” such a detriment to great writing? I believe it’s because it puts the focus on self, and nothing is more off-putting than reading a book that draws unnecessary attention to its author. Superb writing draws attention away from itself and onto the beauty of the idea expressed.
When I stopped trying to write a good book, and began loving, praying for, and caring about the people who would turn its pages, I began to write something a little more worth reading. When I stopped trying to “be good speaker” and started pouring out my heart and giving myself for the sake of the souls in those seats, then maybe I began sharing something a little more worth listening to.
Most of my time here on the blog has been rather mundane. I learned early on that in order to write well I’d need to write some trash as well. This too was freeing. But over the course of these ten years I’ve written thousands of blog posts, adding up to more than million words. For several years I wrote a new blog post every single day, as a discipline. Now I’m slowing way down, as I focus my energy more on raising my kids and (Lord willing) writing more books.
My point is simply this: What is it that you are called to do that may as well be walking on the moon, for how far away it seems?
They say it takes 10,000 hours to master a skill. Of course that’s not always true, but it doesn’t hurt to try. I’ve probably spent close to that many hours writing, and certainly haven’t mastered the art. I’ve spent more than that many hours parenting, and still feel hopelessly under-qualified at times.
Whatever the aim may be, I encourage you: Don’t focus on “being a good _____” (writer, parent, teacher, speaker).
Focus on the people you’re serving, loving, raising, communicating with. Focus on the glorious God who gives good gifts of words and stories and wrack your brain on how to draw attention to Him. Don’t settle for just “being a good” whatever … look beyond you to them, the ones who will read, receive, enjoy.
And remember, God’s pleasure over you does not rise and fall with the Likes, Shares, follows, or reviews you receive.
My work hidden in the shadows is just as valuable as that done in the spotlight.
What is worth ten years of your time? I’m very grateful for these ten years of tapping away on these keys. It’s been good for my heart, and I hope, in just a little way, it’s been good for yours too.
Thanks for reading.
Have you snagged a copy of Sacred Mundane?? Amazon has copies on sale now for only $11.59! 
When you might just hole up, hide out, hold back…
Out of nowhere it seemed to come, like a wave.
I blinked hard, pulled the little girls closer in on my lap, wrapped my arms around them…
…like I’m the one comforting them but I know of course it’s the other way around.
The service ended, but my anxiety didn’t, and the easy laughter and light conversation felt incongruous with the heaviness in my heart.
I stood in line for lunch.
Behind me was a friend. We’ve been in a deep places before. We’ve known tears, pain, prayers. She’s walked dark valleys, I know. I consider for a moment, my arms are folded tight across my chest. It’s always so much easier to stay silent, of course. Who wants to be Debbie Downer at the church picnic? But then I think of how many times I’ve been glad she’s shown up, been real, bared her soul. I look into her light face and say it softly:
“Can you pray for me? I’m just …”
It only takes a sentence or two. She gets it. Without a big ado, she leans in, slips an arm around my shoulders, and we enter His throne of grace right there in the buffet line.
After my turkey sandwich, she asks if other sisters can pray for me too. I hesitate. All I can think is, I don’t want to be the spectacle. I don’t want to be the downer in the midst of all this joy. I’d rather just go hole up, hide out.
But I’ve been around these parts enough to know–right when you want to hide is when you most need to step out and show your scraped up heart.
Wounds you hide just fester.
And so I sat on the grass in the shade, and somewhere those sisters all surfaced, silently, from out of nowhere, all around me, hands on shoulders, my feet, my arms. Love and care flowing from friends who aren’t competing or comparing, sisters who are SO FOR YOU it’s just crazy. Sisters who’d go to great lengths to see you thrive. And they prayed up a storm, and I did the ugly cry and it was worth it because tears cleanse and heal and hope rose up strong and peace came unshakable and I was reminded again why the Church is the embodiment of Jesus Himself.
His hands. His feet. His voice. His embrace.
We need each other.
And all of this was unplanned. Not scheduled. Coordinated. Organized.
The most powerful ministry usually takes place in the ordinary in-between spots as we do life together.
I remember so clearly, one night this Spring. Bible study night. I wasn’t leading that night, and I was so tired. I’ll just stay home, I thought. Nothing big was planned that night. I felt like holing up. But something urged me on to go, and I was so glad.
So much shared. So much need, so much breakthrough, so much unplanned ministry.
So much happens when we just show up for life.
When you show your stuff, your scars, your stains. When you offer your hand, your heart, your kind smile.
When you don’t hole up, hide out, hold back.
That’s why I show up. That’s why I share. That’s why I wrote Sacred Mundane.
I wrote Sacred Mundane with the hope that women everywhere will see life for what it truly is: An opportunity to see, know, and love the Creator, their Father God who loves them with reckless abandon. My prayer is that self-protective layers will be shed, that light will overcome darkness, that freedom will reign and lives will change.
And today, I’m happy to announce: It’s here. It’s launch day. I pray these pages bless your heart and draw your gaze up to the One who loves you most of all. It might be just the thing to read together, in community, where arms can slip around shoulders and hands can be held and tears can be shed and life can be lived and hearts can be healed.
So, shall we? We have a little book trailer below, so feel free to share and let’s have ourselves a little Sacred Mundane revolution living our ordinary days for our extraordinary God!
Thanks for reading.
Sacred Mundane: an Invitation to Find Freedom, Purpose, and Joy
Why a good marriage isn’t our goal
You know when you read a book or hear a teaching, and it’s like everything inside you jumps for joy, “YES! Truth!”
That’s how I felt recently when we (finally) discovered Francis & Lisa Chan’s You and Me Forever marriage book/study, which we’re super excited to have as the materials for the first ever Renew marriage group. It reminded of me of this, from a few years ago, so I thought I’d share again, and if you’re looking for a resource to strengthen your marriage: Check out Chan’s book!
—
If we only want our marriages to flourish so that we’ll be happy, or fulfilled, or satisfied, then as soon as our marriage is no longer making us feel happy, fulfilled, and satisfied, we’ll quickly give up and move onto something else. If we’re really going to have the energy, motivation, enthusiasm and perseverance to tend and cultivate a healthy, thriving, flourishing marriage, we’ve got to have a greater reason why. And I would suggest this is the reason why:
Because your marriage is part of a far greater mission.
I believe that the reason our marriage has flourished (it’s not perfect, of course, but I love it!) is because “good marriage” isn’t the end goal. We didn’t enter into marriage for the purpose of marriage. Here’s what I mean:
Our marriages are less important and more important than we realize. By less important, I simply mean that nowhere in Scripture does it say that your sole purpose in life is to get married and be a “good wife”. We are certainly called to be a helpmeet (ezer) to our husband and to be fruitful and multiply, BUT the greatest purpose of all humankind in scripture is to glorify God, to go and make disciples, to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Our ultimate purpose—showing the love of Christ to a lost world—is not dependent on whether or not you are married.
However, IF you are married, then our marriage is part of that mission, and it’s a far more important part than we may even realize. Here’s what I mean:
Our marriage was meant to nourish us and the world around us by its beauty and spiritual fruit. Fruit that we can enjoy, that our children can enjoy, that the world can enjoy—and that most of all puts on display what God is like. So our marriages are more important than we realize because our marriages are a picture of what God is like. It’s a picture of Jesus Christ and His church (Ephesians 5).
God is for our marriages. God created us to thrive in our marriages. He created marriage to be a picture of Christ and the church, a picture of His extravagant love for us. He wants the world to look at our marriages and say, “Wow! Now that’s love.” Our marriages are actually God’s evangelistic tool. He wants our marriages to be so beautiful, so lovely and strong and enduring, that everyone will want to know the God of our marriage. They will want a love like that.
And personally, I believe that this is the scheme of our enemy who wants to do whatever he can to discredit followers of Jesus and tarnish the beautiful picture of God’s love, by making their marriages are weak, wilted, defeated, discouraged. In other words, the health of your marriage is even more important than you think.
But as long as our goal is merely to “have a good marriage” we’re aiming too low and missing out on the deeper motivation, the God-given drive that will fuel our devotion and inspire us to grow in selflessly loving, respecting, submitting to, and honoring our husbands.
What if your marriage was the only picture of God’s love someone ever saw? What would they think? I pray God would grant us strength and grace to grow such grace-filled and sacrificially-loving marriages that the world can look and see a picture of God’s love. That’s a lofty goal. There’s no way we can achieve that on our own. It would take a miracle, a supernatural work of God to achieve a marriage like that. Which is why it’s the goal we need. He’ll get all the glory.
Praying God’s grace for a God-glorifying marriage that only His power can achieve. Praying for you! Thanks for reading.