The hard and holy work of marital unity

I rolled my eyes, my husband’s questions rang in my ears: Why do we need an album of our wedding photos? How much will this cost? He was clearly wrong to question something so obvious. I brushed off his cluelessness and punched away at the computer, downloading around 3000+ photos, getting ready to upload them to our photo book software. Grumbling at having to do all the work I thought, why would we have paid so much for wedding photos to do nothing with them? Producing a photo album to share and enjoy was the logical next step. If he wasn’t willing to put in the effort, fine–I could carry the load. That’s often how it goes anyways. 

I surprise myself at how easy it is to feel on another planet from my husband. Or perhaps I shouldn’t feel so surprised. There’s a famous book about gender psychology by John Gray called, “Men are from Mars, and Women are from Venus”. Do men and women really live on different planets of perspectives? If so, my 8 month old marriage can sometimes feel like another universe–especially when you add in cultural differences of being raised on separate continents. 

God describes it differently. In Genesis 1:27, the creation narrative describes men and women like this: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” So, if both men and women are created in the image of God shouldn’t we be more similar than different? It often doesn’t feel like that. 

Maybe I can blame it on that slithery snake, sneaking up towards Eve in the garden of Eden, promising her qualities and traits that she already had in God, convincing her that she was really missing out. If the brokenness brought on by Eve in eating and sucking on the juice of the fruit of the Tree from the Knowledge of Good and Evil was sickly sweet, how much more enticingly sweet it is to stomp on ahead of my husband and clearly follow what I know to be the best. It is too easy to blaze a trail of my perfect knowledge and perspective, even if I’m unaware of the little fires I’ve lit behind me. It was pride that whispered into Eve’s ear that a better path lay ahead, and it is pride that also whispers into mine. Sadly destruction and relational brokenness lie ahead of us both. 

When I feel disunited, as though I have drifted away from my husband, it can be painfully dreadful work to get back on track. The hard and holy work of marital unity and “oneness” that God designed it to be (see Genesis 2:24), comes at a cost to myself. A cost to my better way, and prideful elevation of my own perspective. It forces me to actually listen, seeking to understand rather than just be understood. And it invites me to consider there are more vantage points or natural tensions with an issue or topic than I would desire there to be. In seeking to love, serve, and follow my husband well, there is laying down–a surrender–of my own will and a picking up–or trusting–that where God will lead us together, and I’m learning that it’s eternally better than just me on my own. 

When I feel like I’m on another perspective planet than my husband, I probably am. But the reality is that I’ve mostly placed myself there in choosing to set up camp in the dumpy, leaking tent called “selfishness” when I could instead be basking in the seaside mansion of “marital unity”. 

I recently admitted to my husband my temptation to forge ahead with my own plans, dragging him along like a dog on a collar–but acknowledged when I do, the result never feels great. I’d much rather wait, spend the time to work through a problem with him, and arrive at an answer together (even if it was the exact same result as my original idea). The hard and holy work of marital unity and “oneness” comes not only at a cost to myself in listening and laying down, but it also reaps a profit of shared vision, peace, joy, and relational stability. 

I often fail in this. But I’m trying to learn day by day. The wedding photo album stands as a reminder of how it’s much better to move ahead together, than storm ahead on my own. And yet, at the end of it all, I’m sure we will have beautiful reminders of our wedding day to share and enjoy–no matter how or when they are printed. The true fruit of the project will hopefully be the respect and love borne from unity rather than pretty images tied up with a bow. 

This 800 word essay was written as part of a writing assignment with my Writing Mentorship hosted and led by Lore Wilbert. 

Photo by Hannah Belvedere Photography