Tuesday, April 21. 2009
The Beauty of a Fulfilled Vow
(Warning: The preacher got long-winded today.)
A businessman wandered into a doughnut shop in Grand Saline, Texas one morning and ended up with far more than a doughnut. He noticed a young farm couple was seated at a table. The man was wearing overalls and she wore a gingham dress. After finishing their doughnuts, he got up to pay the bill, and the businessman noticed she didn’t get up to follow him.
But then he came back and stood in front of her. She put her arms around his neck, and he lifted her up, revealing that she was wearing a full-body brace. He lifted her out of her chair and backed out the front door to the pickup truck, with her hanging from his neck. As he gently put her into the truck, everyone in the shop watched. No one said anything until an employee remarked in almost a holy whisper, "He took his vows seriously."
I've thought of that story often as I look into my wife's eyes. There she is kneeling on the floor again for the thousandenth time putting on my socks or caring for my dry skin. I know, I know, she has been very clear that she would rather be a nurse than a widow and is grateful to have me around. I know, I've heard her say it repeatedly that she is happy to serve me and senses that she is serving Christ in the process. All true. All healthy. All beautiful.
But when another day is done—another day of having her assist me from showering to dressing, to getting down the stairs, through three or four feedings, through countless medications, to picking up what I've dropped on the floor and can't reach for myself, to assisting in my therapy, to delivering me to yet another doctor's visit…and on the list goes—when another day is done and my head hits the pillow I know one thing: she took her vows seriously.
"For better or for worse, in sickness and in health," we stated. We were so young, what did we know? She was still a teenager. Having graduated from high school at 16, she was half way through college by the time most girls were still figuring out what to wear to prom. I was accused by my buddies of robbing the cradle, but I knew a good thing when I saw it. Two years of courtship later, we stood before 400 friends and family members and youthfully declared our intentions for the rest of our lives. Ridiculous actually. We didn't have enough wisdom, experience, foresight or maturity to make such a declaration. Perhaps that is why God allows a little love blindness to capture young couples. If we really knew what we were saying at the moment we'd be shaking in fear, looking for the lawyer's fine print or excusing ourselves to go find a bathroom. "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part." Wow. Bold words for kids barely old enough to get a rental car.
Yet, twenty six years later, I gratefully declare that she is living out those vows and I consider myself blessed. I knew I was marrying a woman of character on that snowy December day in 1982, but I had no idea just how much I would benefit from that character.
So celebrate with me today a woman who has chosen a lifestyle that doesn't revolve around herself, has chosen to serve a husband whose needs are unrelenting, took her vows seriously and has done so without complaint. And who, by the way, is very uncomfortable with this kind of acknowledgement. (Too bad, Honey, it's my blog!)
Allow me to go a few paragraphs further. Allow me to put back on my pastoral hat and preach a bit. I see this as an opportunity to offer a few challenges. Some of these things may seem so obvious that I don't need to put them in print. On the other hand, I'm not sure where these kinds of messages are being clearly spoken these days, so here goes:
First, I appeal to all singles in pursuit of a marriage relationship—look for Christ-like character above all else. Compatibility is good, but you might find yourself compatible—enjoying similar hobbies, conversing easily—with someone who has no character depth. Wealth is nice, but don't chase it in marriage. To be courted is exciting, but without character you'll eventually end up in another court. Attractiveness is a bonus; hopefully you see some physical beauty in the other person. I certainly did and do with Joanna. But, can I remind us that we don't marry just a face, we marry a complex person. Beauty fades. Character blossoms. Marry character.
Second, I appeal to married couples who are struggling right now. I know that there are, at times, legitimate reasons to call it quits. However, this list is much smaller than society is telling us. "I just don't love him like I once did" isn't on the legitimate list. "She's not the same person I married" isn't either. Of course she's not the same person she was. She's been married to you for 20 years, that's bound to change a person and if she hasn't changed for the better, maybe YOU had something to do with it—not everything, but something. "We've drifted apart." Well, grab an oar and start paddling back. Don't believe the lie that you will automatically be happier alone. Don't believe the lie that you'll certainly be happier with that other person across the office. Don't believe the lie that happiness is the ultimate goal.
Another word to married couples. Some of us have easier marriage relationships than others. Joanna and I have never had an easy marriage. We've had to work at it from the very beginning. Countless times we've had to come back together and say, "Okay, let's talk this through. Where did we get off track?" But that's the key. We've kept coming back. Each time we grew a little stronger as individuals and healthier as a couple. Each time was another blow to the enemy who is seeking to destroy every Christian marriage. If you have a marriage that ranks high on the compatibility scale—you naturally agree on subjects, converse easily, enjoy the same things—consider it a blessing and a loss. It is a blessing because you have an ease of life others will never experience and a loss because you are missing out on some character development opportunities (although life has a way of dishing out plenty of them, so you'll catch up to the rest of us).
Next, a word to those who have known the trauma of divorce. I don't know your story. It's not mine to know. Some of you, no doubt, did the right thing. It was an act of courage and character to remove yourself from the nightmare you were in. Others no doubt bailed out early—God had more in store but you didn't hang around long enough to experience it. And, some of you had no choice in the matter as your spouse ended the relationship regardless of your efforts. Whatever your analysis is of your situation, use it as an entrance into a pursuit of deeper character and greater intimacy with God. A door has been opened, inviting you to walk in healthy places. Take Him up on the offer. And, somehow, may God grant you the grace to not live with a label. God doesn't look upon you as "divorcee" but as "child" (for those who have come to Him for salvation) or as "lost lamb" (for those who have not yet done so). Wise are those who can see themselves as God sees them.
And, a word to us all. In a world glutted with contracts, lawsuits, fine print and disclaimers—often necessary, I know—let's simply be people of our word. Nothing crushes a child like a broken promise. Few things mar a Christian businessperson's reputation like unfulfilled commitments. Some of us mean well—we're just too flippant in what we say. We have good intentions—we just don't have our act together well enough to carry them out. Isn't it time we own up or shut up? Others of us are good at keeping our commitments, until we realize it is going to be inconvenient or hurt. Joanna and I are feeling this a bit right now. Prior to my illness we made a significant pledge to our church's new building project. Living on disability income and uncertainty about our future throws that commitment into a different light. Our church would never require us to keep the commitment—it is completely voluntary—but I don't feel right about backing out now, just because circumstances changed. We prayed about it when we made the commitment, God knew what our future was going to be, so we're finding a way to make it happen. I hesitate to share this because I don't want to draw attention to ourselves; but I choose to share it because I want you to know when I'm speaking from personal experience. Let's be people of our word, even when it becomes more difficult than we first expected.
Finally, back to thoughts about my wife's kindness to me: caregivers, you rock…whatever that means. I celebrate you. You are giving your life so that others have a higher quality of life—a level we in no way could attain on our own. This is a noble thing you are doing. May God give you the same grace He has given to my wife—that you would be able to count it a genuine privilege to serve. You're not just serving us; you are serving Christ Himself. God bless you as you do.
(For John's blog, see http://www.salemalliance.org/serendipity/)
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