Today, I’m reflecting on my wedding anniversary. In remembering the love of my husband, I am reminded of the eternal love of my Savior.
Thirty-seven years ago, I stood in the narthex of my childhood church waiting to walk down the aisle to marry my sweetheart. The wind blew cold outside, but all I could hear was the prelude (Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze”) and my beating heart and my father’s whisper, “Are you ready?”
I do.
And then my father escorted me down the aisle. I was ready to say “I do” and “I will” to the man I loved—and still love—but barely knew.
A soloist sang words based on the Book of Ruth. “For where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay.” (Golly, that’s stretching it a bit since the Scripture passage was a daughter-in-law speaking to her mother-in-law, but the commitment fits.) Our family and friends join us, witnessed our promises to love and to cherish, until death do us part.
There was more music, Bible readings (Psalm 100 and many others), the traditional 1 Corinthians passage about love, and a homily. Our pastor reminded us that the “source for this gift of love is God.” He said this marriage thing would be hard sometimes, but the best way to thrive is with Christ at the center of it all.
I did not have a clue.
My twenty-seven-year-old self listened and believed and trusted. But like most stars-in-the-eyes brides, I did not have a clue what marriage would look like.
Now, as I am reflecting on my wedding anniversary, I realize I only knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with this man who quoted Scripture to me on our first date. (Seriously? There are good-looking fighter pilots who do that? Yep. I got one.) This handsome man who flies fast jets but never boasts about it. This gentle man who doesn’t always understand my tears, my fears, and my stresses but listens. This encouraging man who helps me believe I CAN do whatever hard thing I think I can’t do. This loving man who walks with the Lord, protects me and provides for me.
We are kind of old-fashioned that way, my husband protecting me and providing for me.
Let me explain.
I’m independent—partly because of my husband’s frequent travel and partly because I’m just a wee bit stubborn. I often take out the garbage, control the remote. I’ve worked and stayed home and worked some more. I had plenty of single-parenting days and nights.
But I am also happily dependent.
He starts the leaf blower, fills the bird feeder, opens the wine bottle, checks my oil, tracks our investments, and goes to a high-pressure job that pays the bills and then some. He scratches my back, unravels my messy yarn balls, builds the perfect fire, and picks up the Friday night pizza.
I am also completely dependent on him for the abstract blessings that fill our life together. Joy, peace, patience, faithfulness, gentleness.
I am a better me because of him.
That’s love. It’s the real deal. It’s unconditional. He’s here with me in the odd beauty of growing old together. The chin hairs and expanding waistlines. The skin barnacles (yeah, it’s a real thing) and creaking joints. We laugh because when we are close to each other these days, we can’t see the wrinkles without wearing our reading glasses. So nice.
That 1 Corinthians passage about love?
It’s a beautiful thing to read at a wedding ceremony, because yes, marriage is all about love. At our daughter and son-in-law’s wedding several years ago, the pastor invited them to read that passage and replace the word “love” with “Christ.”
Try it sometime. It’s beautiful.
“Love is patient and kind . . .” Uh oh. I’m not always patient and kind. I’m sometimes irritable, sometimes resentful. Yet “Christ is patient and kind.” Always.
And so on.
It’s a simple truth and a good thing to remember often.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:12-13
Love in a “mirror dimly.”
Thirty-seven years ago, my guy and I made promises to each other—with love at the center. Christ at the center. We’re still experiencing love in a “mirror dimly.”
This is a beautiful foretaste of the feast to come.
And while I am a better me because of my husband, I am an even better me because of Him. Capital H.
Forgiven. Redeemed.
And that, dear reader, is eternal love. It’s love that isn’t tied to marriage, not dependent on any other human, or on any work I might do or not do. It’s already mine and yours. And that is the greatest thing I can remember as I am reflecting on my wedding anniversary.
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love
The greatest of these is Christ.
Soli Deo gloria.
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