5 Things I'm Learning in Marriage

5. What God has brought together, let no man separate

"For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh? 6 So then, they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let not man separate.” - Matthew 19:5-6

This is by far the most restful and grace-filled lesson that I've learned/am learning. During our first year of marriage, I admit that I was plagued by the fear of divorce. I continuously looked at my flaws and suspected that something bad would happen and that we wouldn't make it. I went to the Lord in fear, as I meditated on my vows, and came to the realization that I simply couldn't do it. 

Due to this underlying fear, certain thoughts would produce more fear. The moment I sensed trouble, fear produced more fear. And before I knew it, the Lord was no longer in my thoughts. I kept thinking of hypothetical situations, entertained "what ifs," and blew up minor disagreements into major ones. But what I've come to understand now, is that Evan and I didn't come together on our own accord. The Lord brought us together. Therefore, when I see the enemy attempt to pull us apart—albeit through people, our own flesh, or circumstance—this verse grants me immense comfort. Why? 

I have the permission to go the Lord holding onto His promise rather than holding onto panic/fear. I can boldly state, "Abbah, You see this ___is pulling us apart. Now, You brought us together. I trust and wait on You to move, to guide, or to remove "xyz"so that we may be on1 accord.  I know that You desire this more than I do! I trust in You to help us through because Your Namesake is on the line." 

Marriage is bigger than any 2 people. It is a narrative that the Lord writes, directs, and constructs. Therefore, when I sense trouble now, I go to the Director. It's not my problem. I simply lay it at His feet and watch Him move for His own Namesake. For His own Glory.

I must warn you though. When you do this, don't be surprised if you find that the stumbling block within this beautiful narrative is not an outside force...but is actually you. Haha, this has happened to me on more than 1 occasion! 

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Let No Man Separate

5 Things I'm Learning in Marriage

3.  Sex is not only a physical act but a spiritual necessity

- Genesis 2:24

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.”

-Proverbs 5:19

“A lovely deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight; be intoxicated always in her love.”

Growing up, the introduction of sex was introduced to me, unfortunately. from episodes of watching the soap opera “Days of Our Lives.” I thought sex was a physical act intended to grant the most physically pleasurable experience. Unconsciously, this notion later prevailed my mind in moments of lustful thoughts in my season of singleness. I knew that sex was a powerful force that could be used to destroy if entered into prior to marriage. But I hardly considered the powerful benefits, beyond physical pleasure, offered for both spouses within the context of marriage.

Prior to marriage, an older and seasoned Christian woman shared with me that Satan would do everything in his power to get me and Evan in the bed prior to marriage, and that Satan would do everything in his power to get us out of the bed within marriage. When I first heard this, I was kind of blown away. I always thought...

"If I can just make it to marriage...all will be well."

I never realized that the same spiritual forces pulling me into fornication within singleness, could also have the potential to pull me away from my future husband even within marriage.

If sex was so dangerous outside the context of marriage, then it made sense for it be so powerful within the context marriage.  

Satan knows this. Why didn’t I? Which leads me to my next statement.

Sex is not merely a physical act. It is a spiritual necessity within the confines of marriage.

"Sex is not only a physical act, but it's a spiritual necessity."

-PonderedThought

It brings the Lord pleasure. It is an act of worship. It is an act that is a reflection in the physical realm of what already exists in the spiritual realm--beautiful oneness. It is a type of mysterious glue that binds one to the other in ways that my mind is too finite to conceive. I’m not a theologian, and I’m surely not God, but from personal experience, I believe it has helped me respect my husband more. It has helped my heart soften when it wants to grow hard and bitter. It has helped me practice the act of denying myself and joyfully giving of myself when I wish to be selfish.  And honestly, I’ve seen it take the edge off of the already difficulties found within marriage lol. It is that and so much more.

Sex is a powerful necessity needed for both husband and wife. To deduce it to being “merely” a physical experience for the self is to gravely and disrespectfully  deduce the divine gift that God has created.  It is physical AND it is that and so much more. Be mindful next time you find yourself in a pattern of telling your spouse that “you just don’t feel like it.” Be mindful of who/what is pushing you away from your marriage bed. Satan knows the power of sexual intimacy between husband and wife. Do you?

In the same vein, be mindful of why you wish to engage in sexual intimacy with your spouse. Do you view sex as only a physical experience to grant the self pleasure? When I think of the times in which I’ve experienced the most intimacy with Christ, it was when I gave of myself fully to Him. In return, I inevitably felt the indescribable hedonistic pleasures of simply being in His presence. The same goes in sexual intimacy.  When husband and wife both enter into the marriage bed with a selfish mindset of how to please the self, one’s actions subtly reveals one's belief about sex—merely a physical act  for the self. But in actuality, it is a spiritual necessity that helps one to deny oneself in giving the other pleasure, and in effect produces the most pleasurable fruit as one draws closer to Christ.  

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5 Things I'm Learning in Marriage

2.  Male and Female differences are meant to be celebrated and not denigrated

celebrate difference

Growing up in a house with 5 women, conversations easily flowed from dinner, to the game room, and into the night. My sisters and I fought a lot, but we also grew accustomed to endless chatter, free flowing hugs and kisses, and conversations about clothing, celebrity gossip, and controversial political topics. When I married my husband, I took these acts of intimacy and connection with my sisters and tried to apply them to him.  I was in a for a rude awakening. My husband, a man, was so different. We dated for 6 years, and so I don’t mean to insinuate this newfound “difference” as synonymous to incompatible. No, I moreso mean “different” as in “perplexing.” He appeared as a puzzle, and I a mere observer who simply tried to make sense of things.  He sparked some of the following questions:

Why did he need to have time to himself after a long day at work, when my type of "unwinding" involved talking to him endlessly about my day from the moment I walked in the door? Why did his eyes light up on when seeing a long, drawn-out action scene on a movie, when I was literally covering my eyes counting down until its ending? Why did he just wipe his hand on his side pants leg when I just gave him a napkin? But moreso, why did I notice something so small like that...and cringe?

Every male and female is different. But it’s funny when such over-generalizations show up in marriage. Instead of denigrating and trying to control/find answers to these questions, it’s important to celebrate such differences and thank God that He is so creative in making human beings so immeasurably different and yet so mysteriously compatible. I now love going to an action movie and seeing that moment when my husband is looking so intently into the screen. I love that when I notice crumbs in places that irk me, he doesn’t seem to care. I love giving my husband his man time and seeing him return refreshed. I don’t know the answers to such questions. But I’ve come to love the differences... because that’s what makes my husband my husband.  

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5 Things I'm Learning in Marriage

1. Unity is not simply found in compromise but in Christ

Unity

...is not found in merely compromise

but in Christ.

-Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all thine ways and He will direct thy paths (Some verses are hard to translate outside of the KJV lol)

There have been so many times in which I felt that marriage composed of compromise 100% of the time. If I wanted something and my husband wanted another...I figured we’d just come to the middle and keep it moving. I thought this would simply maintain inevitable peace between my husband and I. But what I’ve come to find out is that true unity, true oneness, and true concordance is found in Christ and not in a set methodology of seeking merely compromise. There will be times in which the Holy Spirit will tell you to simply meet the other all the way rather than in the middle, and vice versa. It is important to follow the Spirit, even in the most mundane things. He is intimately connected to every detail in your life.

When you sense this nudge, be careful to not hold onto your own worldly knowledge by exclaiming that you have every right to not give in; or be careful to not add up all the countless times in which you’ve felt yourself give in already. This leads only to bitterness, as you can easily slip into pointing the finger incessantly at the other. When both you and your spouse are following Christ, it produces the most beautiful fruit. When you find yourself being the only one following Christ, always remember that His grace is sufficient. He gives you the right amount of  grace to handle your spouse, that situation, or that decision made without your approval. Unity may not always be found in compromise. It's found in Christ! Listen to His wisdom and not your own.  

Waiting to Kiss...Our Story

-----Describes a time before marriage

Waiting to Kiss...

Nothing compared to the storm raging inside us as our arms linked together and kisses poured forth. I hadn’t seen Evan in more than 6 weeks, and the passionate welcoming—as privacy ensued unnoticed by the closing of the door—quickly resulted. My mind clouded out clear judgment as lust poured forth with quick vengeance.

“Lord is this pleasing to you?” I pleaded as the wave of emotion fought to bring down any moment of reason.

I quickly felt assurance that it indeed was not. Unfortunately,  I proceeded anyway. I justified my decision by acknowledging that I was only expressing pure love through a passionate kiss. What could it hurt? Nonetheless, the sweet communion with the Lord that I was experiencing, moments before Evan’s appearing, quickly dissipated.

“Lord, is...this  pleasing... to you?”

Coming to my senses, I realized that I was about to be late for my hair appointment. Thankful for the abrupt end to a passionate kissing session, I told Evan that I needed to go and he gladly volunteered to drive me to my appointment. While he drove, I thought carefully on the possibility of engaging in a relationship with Evan without the sweet benefits of kissing. In all honesty, kissing was something I looked forward to the most when Evan and I were separated.

Evan and I were both Sophmores in college and were in a long distance relationship. We met in high school and had been going on four years in dating at the time. Due to going to separate colleges, Evan and I mainly saw each other when we were home for break. And when we saw one another, kissing was a central theme.

 In high school, our friends considered it strange that Evan and I were dating without engaging in sex. While others thought this to be strange, Evan and I thought it to be preposterous to be in a relationship and not kiss. "Oh, how strange that would be!" we often thought. 

As I sat in the car waiting to be dropped off, I couldn’t shake the fact that me kissing Evan was not pleasing to the Lord. But what was the alternative? It seemed impossible. While I was in a flood of thoughts, Evan pulled up to my beauty shop and characteristically stated, “Give me a kiss.” I looked forward to the separation from Evan so that I could think about this curveball that I felt the Lord was throwing at me.

The next day, Evan invited me over to his parents’ house. I put my cute black dress on & boots, grabbed my brown bag, and left my house. Once I arrived, we spoke with his parents but in a moment of privacy, we kissed. I pulled away and tried to gather my words.

“What?” Evan asked, knowing something was on my mind.

“Can we do a Holy kiss?” I said (insert don't judge me LOL).

The night before, I read the epistles and read how Paul said to greet others with a kiss. In my naivete, I took this to mean that perhaps I can kiss but maybe there is holy and unholy way.

“Jessica, what is that?” he said, while beginning to cautiously laugh.

I didn’t know exactly how to demonstrate it, but I knew that whatever we had been doing—wasn’t bringing the Lord pleasure. I wanted to think of a way to kiss that perhaps brought pleasure. With amusement, Evan complied to play along. But the opposite of “holy” kisses quickly prevailed. I left his house completely surrendered. As I pulled away in my dad’s truck, I told the Lord clearly that if He wanted us to not kiss that He would have to make it work because I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. He would have to figure out a way because, holy or unholy, my flesh wanted Evan.

That night, I fell asleep while contemplating why the Lord expected me to do this.

Why take away this one physical pleasure when Ev and I were not having sex?

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual. I was on a school break and had more than enough time to sleep in. But I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. To my utter shock, upon swallowing, a sharp pain resulted. I had a severe sore throat. I hadn’t been sick in MONTHS, and when I did get sick, it  resulted in a sinus infection mostly—never a sore throat. It was 5AM in the morning when the text came through Evan’s phone.

“We can’t kiss anymore. I’ll explain later,”  I texted.

Evan, being an early bird, called me shortly after. I explained to him the bidding of the Holy Spirit, the prayer, the sore throat, everything. By this time, I didn’t need another sign. Some may have thought it a coincidence, but the Lord made it very clear to me that although I couldn't stop kissing in my own strength, if I surrendered, He'd find a way to help me to do so.  Kissing wasn’t the issue. The real issue was that I couldn’t kiss Evan without falling into a state of lust, which happened to linger long after the actual kiss itself.

Later that day, Evan and I met at the park. We were so accustomed to hanging out and kissing, and so it was a bit awkward understanding how we were to hang out without such a defining activity in our relationship. As we sat in the car, we couldn’t help but laugh.

“So how long is this supposed to last? Like is this just temporary or…” Evan asked.

I didn’t know. I just knew that kissing wasn’t pleasing to the Lord. And I clearly didn’t know how nor understand how to kiss in such a way that would bring "Him" pleasure.

“I don’t know. I just know that we aren’t supposed to,” I said.

So there we sat in the car at the park, watching the lake in front of us. As we talked and laughed, the lack of kissing didn’t quiet our physical longing, but increased it that much more.  

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t do this.

And just as quickly as hopelessness tried to set in, the Lord led me to imagine Himself sitting behind us. The image of His sweet presence sobered me in a way that is a bit indescribable. I realized that I was Christ's daughter and Evan was His son. Interestingly enough, remembering that Christ was always in our Presence, placed things in perspective. I wasn’t just lusting for Evan, I was lusting for my Saviour’s Son; and I, Christ’s wife, was lusting for another man.

We made it through the first date without slipping. Not realizing the extent to God’s grace, He allowed us to not kiss until we became husband and wife, 3 years later.  SUCH GRACE—not kidding.

As time went on, I would sometimes look back and wonder why the Lord spoke to me and not to Evan. It wasn’t until later that Evan reluctantly revealed to me that he too felt that the Lord was telling us not to kiss 3 years prior to the Lord speaking to me (when we were in high school). Due to not seeing how, Evan ignored it.

“Always have a listening ear would seemingly be the lesson learned from this experience”, but instead , I’d say this—when God speaks, He’s not expecting us to do anything in our own strength. When He speaks, trust that He will, or already has, provided you with a way to fulfill what He has initially commanded through the power of the Holy Spirit.

1 Peter 1 : 3

“ 3 His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.”

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How food brought me closer to my father and Father

Sometimes it smelled sour. Other times, it smelled like strong grape juice with a mix of cologne. Either way, I never minded. Mama didn’t like it, but the smell brought me comfort as I wrapped my arms around my Dad’s round waist and waited for the next whiff of red wine to come. His stomach would cease its rhythmic movement when it was his turn to talk. I didn’t mind, as long as his embrace remained.  

Later…

I shook my head several times.

“Jessica, what’s wrong?” he said.

“Nothing.” I replied, but the tears came more powerfully and my vision more blurred.

“You can talk to Daddy. What’s wrong?” he said, with a voice that was both soothing and sincere. I kept denying it, but all the while, I kept crying—not wanting him to leave. All the while wanting him to keep asking, to keep knocking down the barrier around my heart, to keep being just...right there. I was 5. I was 6. I was 8. I was 9.

He stooped down to my level and hugged me, and before I knew it, the words proceeded without warning. The release came, and I felt what it was like to lay down a burden and not pick it up again. Daddy heard it, and he would take care of it now.

Years later, déjà vu played itself all too well when experiencing true intimacy with the Holy Spirit. After discovering that the image of the One I worshipped was actually a figment of my imagination—the Lord revealed to me who Christ truly was. It blew my mind.  Christ's love pulled at the depths of my heart, and He wasn’t afraid of what was witnessed upon its exposure—though I was of His reaction. In a moment of familiarity, I felt my lips confess in the light of His love and Holiness, and felt what I had felt years before—a burden left at the feet of my Father.   

But these déjà vu moments didn’t end there upon getting older.

From the time I was born, my parents recall an interesting relationship that I had with food from an early age. All said I was a happy baby. I barely cried, fussed, threw a tantrum—unless I was hungry.  

When I was barely walking, my dad told me of a time that I took his hand and walked him to the door of the refrigerator. Upon him opening it, I simply pointed to the food that I wanted.

It’s been in the midst of my odd relationship with food, that I remember the most profound moments of my dad. Some may think it strange, but it were in these moments of crazily wanting my favorite dish—that I saw the character of my dad.

For instance, In elementary school, every Friday at 7:00PM, I had practice at the local community center for basketball. I loved basketball. But even more so, I loved the sugary gatorade drink that I got to drink on my ride home.

My dad was the one who always picked me up from my basketball practices on Friday. Not only did I enjoy him picking me up due to his ability to always listen to my talking/rambles about my day, but I knew that I  could always convince him to pick us up some Mazzio’s pizza for the family on our way home. Mazzio’s was a chain restaurant that felt more like a local restaurant. To me, it was Memphis’ Very own style of doing signature deep dish (like) pizzas—though now I know that this restaurant originated from OK. Anywho, once he would pick me up from basketball practice, I’d ask my father my one question at the perfect opportunity. Like clockwork, my father would always stop.

Once my basketball season ended, however, my ploy to ask my dad for pizza on our way home ended. Therefore, after school,  I’d plan to call my dad's office right around 6:00PM, when I thought he’d be leaving his dental office, and I’d first ask whether he was on his way home. Then I’d ask if he could stop to get some pizza. I would always try to ask in my most nonchalant but high pitched voice (as innocent as possible was what I was going for). Yet, one particular day, my mom caught me on the phone delivering my strategy. When I got off the phone, she asked who I was talking to.

“Oh, just daddy,” I said.

“What did you say?” she further inquired.

“I asked him if he could bring home some Mazzios.”

She went onto berate me by telling me how we had food at the house, how I was acting spoiled—I think the word she used was “brat,” and how I needed to know when to not ask for things, etc. I felt defeated.

Was I really spoiled? Did I really not think about how Daddy must have felt getting off work late and then abiding by another request from someone else—though tired. 

I thought briefly of these things and then saw my mom dial the phone.

Uh oh, was she calling daddy? Was she going to convince him otherwise? I knew she made some valid points, but he seemed to be okay with it to me.

Her voice sounded convincing. She seemed to be winning him over.

Oh no. Oh no. Were we not getting Mazzio’s tonight? I was looking forward to it all day.

My mom got off the phone and seemed to look at me as though every word she said to me, previous to the phone call with my dad, was true. Her countenance made me aware that she was not taking  one word back. I left her room. I was upset, because she called me a bad word in my book. But more so, I was upset because she wanted to delay my most desired gratification.

An hour or so passed and my sister called my sisters and my mom downstairs. Our favorite Friday night show was about to come on, “Providence.” To this day, I remember watching it faithfully with my family, but I cannot recall one scene. While racing downstairs and preparing to snag my seat on the couch, Daddy walked in. In his hand wasn’t just his briefcase, nor just his keys—but  two large Mazzio pizzas in hand. My own selfishness, at the time, didn’t recognize the heart behind the act. I was consumed with the joy in thinking that I had scored my sisters and I pizza another week in a row. Nevermind Mama being mad. I was happy!

I sometimes wish I could go back to that moment. I wish I could pause time and stare at my dad. I want to see his joy in giving us girls what we requested. His happiness in coming home to his family. I want to see his tiredness, his running thoughts over the next bill to be paid, his warring tension to be alone to debrief from the day but then his ultimate decision to stay and watch Providence with us. I want to see it. I want to take it all in. And then I want to hug him and say thank you. But I know I can’t—hence the reason for me writing now.

3-4 years later, the same rang true when he and I went to eat some Captain D’s. After picking it up, he and I took turns eating the portions of popcorn shrimp. It became clear that I was eating the majority of it. When it came down to the very last one, I winced. I didn’t want to give it up. yeah , I know that I’m eating too much of it. I’m not even hungry anymore, I thought to myself.  But the aching desire for more outwon. I said the next sentence without thought.

“Daddy, can I have the last one.”

My conscience, even at that age, reminded me of my greed. But I wanted more and more.

I’ll never forget the look on my dada’s face. I expected him to laugh and jokingly say, “No, gimme my shrimp”;  or maybe launch into a lecture on how I eat too much; or perhaps love food too much to the pointof greed. He wouldn't  have been wrong in any way. But instead, he threw me a curveball.

“Yes,” he responded.

I ate it, but just as quickly as I did so, the guilt quickly settled in. I suddenly felt bad. Here I was eating too much and still wasn’t willing to offer up the last one to someone who had sacrificed so much on my behalf.

“Didn’t you want the last one?” I asked ashamedly.

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you want the last shrimp?” I asked.

He smiled,  “Do you know how many popcorn shrimps i’ve eaten in my lifetime. How old are you? I’m 40 something. Think about how many more popcorn shrimp I’ve had  than you.” he said while grabbing my knee and shaking it. He always did this one physical act when he didn’t want his girls (daughters)  to feel bad. I felt he did that to hopefully shake off whatever was bothering us. If we couldn’t do this on our own, he’d do this one act as though he physically could.

His kindness didn’t erase the guilt. But boy did it make me feel better after taking my last bite!

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When my Husband splashed me with cold water...

I sat the pot down and looked at the clock. 7:20 AM

Ok, 10 minutes to make my smoothie, pack my bag, and fix my salad. Perfect. At least, I have more time than I did yesterday to get to work.

Though still in focus mode whilst several tabs appeared open in my headspace, Evan’s next statement quickly succeeded in interrupting the flow of my thoughts.

“Let’s cook on Wednesday.”

Evan and I planned to host a couple coming in from out of town, and knowing my workload that week, I successfully planned, if I can say so myself, to pick up a pizza from Costco, make a nice cute salad and a quick dessert. That way I could get home, clean up, light some candles, and still have a good meal prepared.

“No Ev, I planned for us to do pizza...I plan on cooking Saturday when they spend the night again.”

“I think it’d be a good idea to cook. In fact I’ll cook.” He then went on to state this elaborate menu, that he planned to cook. It sounded great, however, his willingness to take on this task failed to resolve the mounting weights being placed on my shoulders with every proceeding word delivered from his mouth.

I needed more verification so as to remove each weight one block at a time.

“So you’ll clean the kitchen before you cook?”

"Yes," he said. 

“And you’ll clean up after you cook?”

"Yes."

“And you won’t ask me for any help on how to cook whatever you cook?"

"Yes."

And then I went on to repeat each statement again, unconsciously, so as to remove the inevitable weights that still appeared to be weighing on my body—though without reason.

What is it? Why do I still feel burdened? Why am I responding to his request with anxiousness? Why can’t we just do it my way and carry on our merry, oh so happy, way? I thought to myself.

I didn’t let it end there. My tone became more impatient, my tolerance obliterated in explosion due to utter annoyance, and goodness….could he answer this last question a little more quickly? I think I have 3 more minutes before needing to leave. 

He called me out on my tone, and after gently correcting me...said

“I love you, beautiful.”

Nah huh. Why are you saying randomly that you love me? And ah, don’t call me beautiful. Please...don’t be nice to me right now. Let’s get back to business and talk about this pizza and dessert.

And Evan, don’t look at me like that..please don’t look at me like you …did when we were 16. Like you did on our wedding day. Like you do in moments when no one is looking.  Like you are doing right now. Those unwavering eyes reminding me that your love is a commitment and not a fleeting feeling that depletes upon disagreement.

And like that, I slowly felt my heart relinquish my hardened heart that worry and anxiety sought to embitter. He simply smiled calmly as the sincerity in his eyes cut too swiftly and precisely at the unseen depths of my heart. He continued smiling with an air of peace and confidence, as if to say that what i interpreted from his eyes proved to be indeed true.

I suddenly felt uncomfortable and quietly ashamed as his words  allowed the previous conversation to dissipate slowly and yet quickly into another world.

Proverbs 25: 21-22

If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat;

           And if he is thirsty, give him water to drink;

     22For you will heap burning coals on his head,

           And the LORD will reward you.

I reacted to Evan as though he were my enemy, and I his. Instead he gave me a splash of cold water on the heap of burning coals upon my head with one statement.

Evan gave me what I needed, even though I didn’t ask for it. Not necessarily food. Nor water. But Love, which symbolically encompasses both.

(It ended up… we neither had to get pizza nor did we have to cook at all lol. For our friends never came over to spend the night lol.)

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