All is Grace: Thoughts on Marriage

“…And the two shall become one flesh.”

The hardest thing about becoming one in marriage isn’t facing the imperfection in the other; it’s facing the deep imperfections in yourself. The ones you have been running from your whole life. It’s like suddenly they’re there every time you look in the mirror of your lover’s eyes, staring back at you relentless in their obviousness. No hiding now, all the ugly you always fear was there, is. In all its hideousness.

Let someone love you?
 The messy you?
 There? The places buried deep?
 The places you don’t even want to let Light Himself go even though you know he would disburse all the darkness?
Let another person into all the unglorious mess of your wounded heart?

Impossible.

All my proud defenses, the ones I’ve constructed and nurtured with delicate care prevent this at all costs. The cost of protecting my heart means I stay in here alone.

Tear up those old foundations constructed in the heat of battle to keep the enemy out?

I can’t. I won’t.

Even though everyone has become an enemy and I’m all alone here?

Still not convinced it’s worth it.

 Let someone tread on the troubled waters of my hidden broken heart? How can I?

The little girl hiding behind the hardened eyes of the woman she became – the woman she had to become to survive the darkest edges of broken humanity – fights to peek out. But she can’t.

Intimacy pushes hard, an unwelcome guest in a house with no windows, determined to rescue the little girl before she hardens into the identity of her protector, gone forever, trust no longer an option.

 It can’t survive without Light.

Love presses against fear – urging grace to soften pursed lips, to quiet the raised voice and calm the furrowed brow.

  “Put away your weapons He urges, I have won this already.”

Yet even the threat of stepping out from behind these fortified walls terrifies. Holding onto the outstretched hand would mean unclasping these cold, numb hands held together in anticipation of the next bout of gunfire. The ceaseless battle.

How can I let go? When clutching on with my own strength is all I’ve ever known to do?

When voices shrieked and my heart was torn, my hands found each other and I managed to force myself to stand, even though I wanted to collapse. It was then I swore I’d never hold another hand again. Not when all the hands I’d held were hands were used to wound me, irreparable. Hands used to climb inside my soul and rip out the flowers. Hands used to plant lies and weed out truth.

But that happened when I used to trust. Now, I don’t

I don’t want to leave. Even though it’s cold,dark, lonely, I fear feeling the warmth of Light and losing it more than I fear staying in the dark. I locked myself in here and now I can’t seem to get me out.

Christ never forces Himself in either. He simply stands, promptingly outside the door, drenched in Grace with hand outstretched. At the same time I can’t seem to say no to Him.

Somehow I know if I can’t take His hand I’ll never take yours. We’ll never become one. If I can’t let the transforming Light of His perfection melt away the darkness of my iron walls how can I let you in knowing in this covenant you can, knowing you will, hurt me?

It’s all Grace.

If I don’t accept Christ’s hand of grace, let Him past all my defenses, I know the Light flickering deep within-  the Hope that held on – will die. And I’ll just echo darkness.

But Grace persists.

So what do I do? I know I can’t let Him in and I know you’re locked out too.

Desperate I cry, “You’re grace is sufficient for me.”

And Grace tears down the door.

Ashamed I hide myself, my ugly fear, hatred, distrust, my pride.

 But He sees it all anyways.
And there is Love.

That is Grace – even seeing all the ugliness of the beloved, He loves her still. Because the only thing that can make ugly beautiful is Perfect Love.  Grace sees and transforms. He accepts you as you are and then demands you surrender all of it to be someone new. To be His.

Only here can Love exist.

Only here can Covenant be kept.

Only here can I stumble feebly towards you.

Only held by grace can I let you hold me in.

True Intimacy follows His grace – His grace extending into yours and mine

We can only Love each other soaked in the miracle of Grace.

I can only let you see my tattered heart knowing He’s making it new. That in Him it already is perfect, because He is so.

I can only show you my vulnerability, my frailty, my weakness, knowing He is making me strong and in Him I already am so.

I can only show you the weed-filled garden of my soul, knowing He is pulling the weeds and planting beautiful flowers that grow in the floodlight of His care, and in Him my soul is beautiful.

Here Love can abide- and outstretched hands collide in the twilight and Light bursts forth, the Sun is coming and we are here – you and me in Him –This is the only place we can be One.

Marriage to an imperfect person will only succeed if we are first united to Christ, for He is our Perfection.

I Love you, Jordan.

 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.  After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church—  for we are members of his body.  “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”
-Ephesians 5:25-31