I received a thought-provoking letter penned by my dear great aunt, a letter filled with contagious emotions in just a few chosen words. She wrote of how life carries on after 62 years of marriage. It pressed on my mind, and so it began: a weeks-long obsession of analyzing the elements of 62 years. It became a back-and-forth struggle of meditation, the Lord as my referee, my moderator. Initially clips of life fast-forwarded remarkably in my head. Beautiful clips sparking giggles, smiles, and tears. I basked in the future memories. No doubt, I will be older in 62 years. My mind will have loosened its tightly woven thought processes, my hands will be shaky and weak, and my hair will be grayed and uncontrollable. My stomach will detest Greg's treasured Mexican pork.
Father, how do I live in light of 62 years? I am unable to comprehend, so I let my thoughts stew.
But sin emerges and muddles my reminiscing of generations past, generations established, and generations cherished. Like at the Fall, I trade a beautiful moment for a selfish blaming game. The world becomes my enemy, my attention becomes less joyful as I peer outwards. My sinful speculations spread viciously out of a passion for marriage and a deep sadness for the world and its treatment of God's grace to us in establishing this blessed arrangement. Increasingly I doubt man's capacity to love; our sin is thick and it too often takes over. My hope dwindles.
Love and bitterness combined: engagements paired with divorce and sacrificial love paired with infatuation. Our definition of love is simplified and too encompassing. Our interpretation exists as a fleeting mirage, discrediting the innate properties within us for lasting companionship that we inherit as image-bearers of God. With such a high rate of dissolving marriage and an obsolete definition of covenant, how am I not to understand our attempts at love as hypocrisy?
Judging and grumbling while I write; complaints saturated with cynicism. Marriage, a God-given blessed arrangement founded on the strongest form of connection gifted to us, a blessed covenant, struggling to survive. I internalize it, bitterly...sinfully.
Father, show me how to live in light of 62 years.
He changes my thoughts of 62 years to thoughts of eternity.
If love was defined by man, I could find no hope. Our feeble comprehension of love originates from God. Trinitarian in nature; three persons in one, in presence, communication, companionship, in complete knowledge of the other. Connected and existing in a mystery that offers hope as we seek to understand love and relationship. Our own desire and yearning for the same originates from innate elements given to humanity. Part of our souls must remember man's creation; we were created to possess a relational covenant with God, one that reflected the Holy community found within Himself. An eternal God, demonstrating an eternal love, within three eternal persons.
Sixty-two years would be exhausting if I submerged myself in passionate bitterness. My mind is cluttered by a nasty cobweb, threaded together by strings of sin: of pride, mockery, anger, mistrust, and a false outlet of hope. Thankfully, the Lord is good. He reveals the cobweb that has dirtied my heart and is helping to sweep it away. The remnants remain, however, they always will as a I struggle to see His presence in the tragedy of modern, covenantal marriage.
But I have thoughts of eternity. I will continue to fight hard to see how He has defined love in the historical account of redemption: the sending of His Son, who out of love for the Father, was obedient to glorify. We see Christ's love, painful at times to swallow, but beautiful to experience in salvation. I fight hard to internalize the sacrificial groom returning to the sinful bride on the wedding day. And when my mind is clear, for even just a moment, He offers lasting hope.
I am grateful to the Lord. All I can comprehend of 62 years is a marriage with my best-friend that finds joy in reflecting God's eternal goodness.
Amen, AMEN!
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