Learning to be loved

Sunday marked the twelfth anniversary of my marriage to my Buddy, Isaiah. An anniversary is a great occasion for reflection, and so reflect I have. (Posts like this make me wish my mother-in-law didn't read my blog, but alas, here goes nothing.) 

Isaiah and I were young'uns when we got hitched, by today's standards anyway. I'd only escaped the teenage years mere weeks beforehand, and he is only a year my senior. But we were young and smitten and didn't care about statistics and likelihoods and what-nots. Divorce schmivorce. We would defy the odds.

Defy them we did (though I can't pretend like divorce never sounded appealing.) It is by the grace of God alone that I can say I am happily married to my very best friend. Unfortunately, this was not always the case.

Over the years, Isaiah and I have worked through a number of issues together. My own tendency to unnecessarily despair has been one such issue. I've shared in earlier posts about my battles with insecurity and depression. Suicidal thoughts have been my nemesis for much of my life, and I suspect they will never be permanently evicted. 

As a result of these issues, I am often a killjoy to live with. I can be short-tempered, impatient, selfish, critical, melancholy, and perfectionistic. A depressed me is no doubt pure misery to be around. When I feel worthless, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I mope around and slack on my responsibilities and feel sorry for myself. I act either apathetic or downright spiteful toward Isaiah. 

Why am I bringing all this up again? Because when I think about my marriage, I think about all Isaiah has had to put up with over the years. My battle becomes his battle. "Put up with" really isn't the right phrase, though. Someone who puts up with things doesn't necessarily have a good attitude about it. They might still be impatient and trudge through the putting up with unhappily.

That's not Isaiah. He makes it look like fun. 

If I had to sum up all my feelings about Isaiah regarding our marriage relationship, I would say this- He has been Christ to me. He has tirelessly, joyfully, kindly, jokingly (because sometimes you just have to laugh), journeyed with me through all these years. He loves me unconditionally. He is strong in this area where I am so very weak. He is endlessly patient and forgiving. 

I could go through I Corinthians 13 and list all of the ways he's demonstrated the attributes, but I'll spare you. My point is that my remarkable husband loves me in the same way God does, and because I like to always have a moral to the story, I'll make one more point as well.

Love is not worth a thing to someone who refuses to accept it.

As foolish as it may sound, I had to learn to accept Isaiah's love. Of course I thought I did when we got married, but I eventually had to admit to myself that I didn't always trust his intentions. I often didn't believe his compliments.

 Someone who is very dear to me is now caught up in this battle to receive love, and it breaks my heart. I've been there. I'm still there sometimes. I know there are others who fight this same seemingly hopeless battle. (The once Billboard chart topper Hate Me by Blue October is proof of this.) 

It's just one of those temptations that is common to man. We feel unworthy of love, and so we reject the love that is offered. But it doesn't have to be that way.

Isaiah is not perfect, and I don't mean to imply that he is. I've just come to understand that he loves me, and I can rest in that. I find security in it.

I understand now that when he says I'm beautiful, he really means it. When he says I'm a great mom, it's because he really believes it. When he asks for my opinion, it's because he really wants it. When he says that he wants to spend time with me, it's because he enjoys being around me. When he offers to do something for me, it's because he really wants to. When he says that I've done a good job at something, it's because I really have. 

Despite all of my imperfections, all the hardships I create for him, my Buddy loves me. He wants me around. He needs me around. I contribute to his life. I am his helpmate. I am his beloved. I am not a burden to him, but a blessing to him. 

I'm not gonna lie. It's still hard for me to say self-promoting statements like those. I even started to type out a disclaimer. I don't always believe those things. I've still got some growing up to do, but I'm getting there. I know that they are true, even if they don't always feel true. Even though I'm going to forget them and need reminding again (and again). 

I wasted so much time all those years questioning a love that was so genuine, and it's no wonder. My doubts coincided with my lack of acceptance of the love of God Himself. 

To know that salvation is not based on works is a separate matter altogether from the understanding that God's approval and affection are not based on works either. How foolish to try and earn something that is already mine. 

Love is not the equivalent of approval. but it is unconditional. I firmly believe that every church should emphasize the worth of a person, especially to the children. Yes, we are sinful and unworthy of Christ's forgiveness. Our righteous acts are like filthy rags, but that does not make us the equivalent of filthy rags. We were knit together with a purpose by a God who loves us and wants the best for us. 

God doesn't love us because of what we do for Him. What we do for His glory is also for our good. The two are inseparable. He wants us to be holy not because He is demanding or power hungry, not because He delights in our groveling, but because He wants the best for us. My good is for his glory. To be closer to God, to abide in Him, is good. I can rest in His love.

That's an even greater knowledge than that of Isaiah's love, even if it doesn't always feel quite as tangible. The love of God, and Isaiah's demonstration of that love, has helped me grow in leaps and bounds. I have confidence and boldness that wasn't there before. I can take risks, and even fail, and still keep from despairing. I can bask in the glow of love and freely give it in return. 

Love is a beautiful thing.

For anyone who might be wrestling with a similar conflict, I'd like to propose an essential question. It's the same question Jesus asked the debilitated man by the pool of Bethesda: Do you want to be healed?

I never gave that question a second thought until I heard a sermon centered around it this past year. It might sound like a silly question, but it is not. It is a thought-provoking one. It is a problematic one. It is a necessary one. 

Do you WANT to be healed?

The answer isn't always yes. You see, healing is painful. It is humbling. It is difficult. It requires an end to our self pity and an acknowledgment of our worth. It demands complete surrender to a God who often seems out of reach. It necessitates a daily dying to self and taking up our cross, even when, especially when, we just don't have the strength.

And it is often slooooowwww. So slow. For me personally it took a good two years of counseling to work through all that unnecessary baggage I was lugging around. Even still, I keep on doing the things that I don't want to do, and then I feel like I'm back where I started. But not quite. God always brings me just a little bit closer to Him, and then a little bit closer. And then one day, I'll get to know God as I am already known.

It's often easier to decide against healing, but I'm praying those who read this choose the more difficult path. There is always hope, friends. Both for the one who needs to embrace love and the one who continues to offer it unrequited. 

Happy anniversary, Buddy. Thank you for continuing to lead by example. 


Keep asking, and it will be given to you. Keep searching, and you will find. Keep knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who searches finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Matt. 7:7-8

Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Heb. 4:16

Our new husband vs. wife challenge!!

I’m a competitive girl. It doesn’t really matter what the game is. In the least bit whatsoever.

It can be, “Hey, let’s race to the car.” You better believe I’m gonna be hauling my butt to that car.

It can be a fun, easygoing, get-to-know-you game with a small group. I will absolutely keep a casual smile on my face while everything in me is fighting to come out on top of that seemingly insignificant challenge.

Heck, it can even be Candyland with the kiddos. Some exceptions are made for under five-year-olds, but only because it’s not really fun to beat them anyway. The competition is what makes the thrill of victory so satisfying.

Games at family gatherings invoke the strongest feelings of all. Somehow beating the ones we love the most just makes winning that much sweeter. What are families for if not to bring on some cutthroat competition?

It’s not even that I have to win. Once upon a time, losing might have involved accusations of cheating, throwing of pieces, giving the silent treatment, etc. Not anymore, though. I genuinely just enjoy the fun of the game. I like to be challenged, because it brings out my best effort.

This past Sunday, my pastor preached on challenges that we face in our lives. His point was that they force us to grow stronger in ways that everyday life allow us to remain soft. They grow our faith and show us what God can make us capable of. So naturally, what I took away from his message is that I need to challenge my husband to regular competitions!

Probably not what my pastor had in my mind, but after giving it a lot of thought, that was the application that I decided upon for my own life. In reality, I actually came up with the idea to challenge myself. My hubby Isaiah is not exactly the gamer that I am, though he does enjoy some friendly competition. As I was pondering the implications of the truth that challenges help us grow, and also considering my own constant desire for growth, I decided that a little challenge might be just what both of us needed.

And thus, the Weekly Wedded Challenge was born. (I considered Husband vs. Wife Deathmatch, but it didn’t have the same ring to it.)

There’s not a whole lot to the Weekly Wedded Challenge, but I’ve already established that all I need is a smidge of competition to move my butt into action. At the start of every week, Isaiah and I will issue each other a new challenge. Here are the rules. (Every serious gamer needs rules.)

1. The challenge can be big or small, but it has to be completable during the one week time frame. (e.g. Climbing Mt. Everest or losing thirty pounds are not acceptable goals.) 

2. The point of the challenge should be to help the other spouse grow in an area where they are weaker. For example, exercising daily would be a great goal for lazy old me, but Isaiah already does that, so it wouldn’t help him grow. (Tasks that are motivated by selfishness on the part of the task giver are also prohibited, such as pawning off all your own responsibilities.)

3. Both parties must agree that the tasks are reasonable and helpful.

4. No excuses. The tasks are practical and agreed upon ahead of time, so a “busy week” or something to that effect is not an acceptable reason to shirk on their completion.

5. Whoever completes their challenge will be the recipient of a back and/or foot massage. (And not from Jo Jo's Asian Massage .) The reward may change in the future, but for now our budget/time constraints don’t allow for anything too crazy. Plus, that’s really not the point of the challenge, merely an extra perk.

Just to give an actual example, my goal for him this week is to read Corrie ten Boom’s “The Hiding Place.” (It’s only about 200 pages long.) His goal for me was to get rid of everything in our bedroom that we don’t use. The fact that neither of us were crazy about our goal is a sign that we chose some good ‘uns. He doesn’t read very often (unless you count Drudge Report), and I feel overwhelmed and shut down when I think about organizing and keeping our children alive at the same time.

I have high hopes for this new tradition of ours. It’s not because the challenge is some radical new life-changing idea, but rather the opposite. I don’t do well with radical changes. Not because I don’t like them, but just because I don’t stick to them. Small, step-by-step changes are much more helpful for me. I need habits and schedules to get goals accomplished. Which is, um, usually why I don’t accomplish many of them.

Turning our goals into a competition is helpful not only because we want to beat each other, but also because we can hold each other accountable throughout the week. I will always know at least one thing that he's trying to accomplish over the next seven days. Not to mention we can motivate each other via trash talk and the like.

Isaiah and I have talked about getting better at teamwork for years. We’re a great match in a lot of ways, but usually working in conjunction is not one of them. I forget to tell him things until the last second, and he forgets to tell me pretty much everything except for how much money is in our bank account. The challenge is a way to include each other in goals, especially since it’s often painfully obvious in what ways the other needs to improve. We were meant to be an encouragement and help to each other. This is just one more way for us to grow together. Iron sharpens iron, after all.  

So it's week one, and he’s already a third of the way through the book. Meanwhile, I have yet to throw away a scrap of paper. But I’m not worried. I’ve got all week to procrastinate.

Game on!!!