This is a particularly tricky form of idolatry. In fact, I’ve been downright confused and frustrated by the whole idea of marriage at times, because we’re are supposed to become one—literally hold nothing back from each other to the point where people thing of us as one unit. And on top of that, marriage is supposed to be a shadow of the relationship between Christ and his church—a relationship where you are literally willing to die for the other. And yet we are supposed to hold each other with open hands, seeing each other as a gift from God that elicits worship for the Giver—not just have tunnel vision for each other.
This is a tricky balance and, until recently, I would have told you I don’t expect my husband to complete me (Jerry Maguire style) …until he left for a 3 week work trip. My, oh my, was that revealing.
During the first week, I did okay keeping busy, so life felt pretty much normal. It was around the second week that I had the real revelation. It went a little something like this:
I was at my Bible study with the group of women I pretty much do life with when one of the girls asked for prayer because her husband was going to be gone for a four day weekend—the first time they’d been apart in their 3 years of marriage.
I was not nice about this.
In fact, I pretty much snickered at her and told her I have “very little sympathy.” I was a jerk. And then it got worse. Being a “veteran” wife of a husband who is constantly on the road, I proceeded to tell her that, when I was first getting used to him being gone, I would spend my evenings watching a lot of TV—cocktail I hand. But now, you see, I’m so evolved. (I didn’t say the evolved part, but my tone did).
On the drive home, I said a little prayer thanking God that he is my comfort and that I don’t have to depend on other things (or people) to bring me peace.
…I wasn’t home 5 minutes before I plunked down in front of the TV for a 4 episode marathon of Parenthood—cocktail, once again, in hand.
Wow.
I knew that I had heard that still small voice in my heart that night, reminding me that He is enough and that if I would just open my heart He could give me the rest I so desire. But I ignored it. I didn’t trust Him.
Whether I think I do or not, I place a huge burden on my husband’s shoulders when I expect him to be my daily comfort. A burden he wasn’t meant to carry and one that will inevitably lead to bitterness if he ever fails to deliver it. TV and cocktails aside (a confession for another day) it was my husband’s absence made me realize the white knuckle grip I had on him.
He’s coming home just a few hours (finally!) and I pray that I receive him with hands that have loosened from the grip of burdensome expectations—my gaze fixed instead on his Maker.
