in my head, refuse to allow them access to my voice, and strip them of their power over us.
The old me would have immediately started arguing with God and listing my objections. This marriage was a partnership, why should I suddenly stop sharing my perspective on things? What about the Scriptural exhortation to admonish my brother when he sinned? Was Dan being exhorted to do the same? Once upon a time I would have certainly hoped so.
I was so tired of being a resounding gong and clanging cymbal, though, that I was willing to try anything, even embracing the “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” adage of my youth. I knew that God wasn’t asking me to become a Stepford Wife, he was simply offering me a formula — a temporary corrective measure, if you will — for overcoming my fears and healing my marriage. A formula that didn’t just ask me to bite my tongue, but demanded that I fill the void with love. He knew that I needed to experience for myself the truth that darkness and light cannot coexist.
I sat in the darkness, pondering how to answer this call. Pies were definitely in order, as were love letters, tokens of affection, and actual affection, of course. I was about to switch my lamp back on and begin making a list when Dan’s headlights swam across our bedroom walls. I heard his key in the lock, held my breath, and prayed that God would help us find our way back to peace.
Moments later Dan crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around me and I knew. I knew that though I had a lot of work to do and that together we had a long way to go, we were going to be fine. Even better than fine.
Tested Courage
The months that followed were not easy. Every day I searched the pantry for random ingredients that I could turn into a meal, and I considered adding the customer service representatives at the utility companies to my Christmas card list for the number of times I had to call and beg them to hold off on disconnecting our utilities. As serious financial difficulties continued to plague us, my newly assigned mission to love often stung. Even with the consolation I’d received from God, the shedding of my controlling nature caused more than a few growing pains.
To say that I did this imperfectly would be a huge understatement. But amidst those growing pains I could see that the roots of our marital tree were growing deeper and stronger and that tiny blossoms that promised rich fruit had sprung forth. Our arguments began to decrease in frequency and were replaced by sweet moments of romance and rebonding.
On some level this didn’t surprise me. It serves to reason that if you start treating your spouse better, your relationship will thrive. What did surprise me was that the previously implacable grips of fear that had imprisoned me for the last handful of years had slowly begun to release their hold on me.
I couldn’t see it at the time, but my putting a stop to the endless cycle of criticism allowed Dan to get off the defensive and return all of the love I was pouring into him, often tenfold. God parted the storm clouds, and I was able to see, once again, how much this man loved me. I was reminded by his every sacrifice (which were daily and plenty) that he would, in fact, do anything and everything within his power to care and provide for me.
Yes, we’d been threatened with eviction. Yes, our utilities were sometimes turned off. Yes, we were without insurance. Yes, we both worried about providing for the needs of our children, but what I began to see is that the entire time that I’d felt the need to micromanage our lives, Dan was doing everything possible to bring us to greener pastures. He was hustling like no man has ever hustled, working two, sometimes three jobs at a time, and humbling himself to borrow money when life demanded it. My fretful contribution had added nothing but animosity.
Do you know who was behind the fact that we struggled? God. With sudden clarity I realized that God had allowed these circumstances. It was he who had brought us to this season of want and allowed us to suffer. He had tied these crosses to our back and asked us to carry them. And though I hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time, we had consented. As we were preparing for marriage, Dan and I had told God that we would follow him wherever he led, through rocky valleys and beautiful vistas. We wanted to do his will, trusting in his goodness. Well, as it turned out, his will was to remake us in his image, and his method was poverty. And to give credit where credit is due, it was effective.
God is endlessly creative and has an infinite number of ways to purify a soul. He could see that Dan and I had become far too reliant on, and proud of, our own abilities. Poverty is a surprisingly potent antidote to such a weakness. When all of your efforts to earn your daily bread prove fruitless, you quickly start begging God for help. And after enough of this begging, you begin to see (and have to concede) that everything ultimately flows from him, not you. That’s humbling.
The wonderful thing about God is that he’s always waiting to offer consolation and insight right at that very moment when you feel your knees start to buckle from the weight of it all. Every so often during this painful process he would part the curtains that hung behind his workshop windows and allow us to peer in, just for a moment, so that we could see how he’d been softening our hearts while pummeling away with his mallet. We could see that he’d somehow managed to make us a little more patient, a bit more kind, and a lot more humble.
That young woman who’d traveled solo around the world had an adventurous spirit, absolutely, but courageous? Only until she was tested, and then that “courage” crumbled so quickly you would have missed it if you’d blinked. She marched through life never once giving credit to God for her accomplishments, never thanking him for her gifts.
Pies and Peppermint
There’s a very satisfying high that comes from doing daring things. And I absolutely agree with my family’s assessment that challenges such as Feats of Bravery can serve to strengthen a person. But this brand of courage ultimately needs to be supported by valor, a sort of undaunted courage in the face of overwhelming odds. The kind of valor that comes from trusting God implicitly and knowing that he will never abandon you though the winds may batter and the waves crash upon you. The kind of valor that is free of pride and posturing. The kind of valor that knows that what God says is true — that strength is found in weakness.
I had become a victim of fear because I believed that everything depended on me and that the only way to overcome my anxieties was to assert control. Oh, how wrong I was. All along freedom had been waiting for me to meet fear head-on with love.
When I was worried about buying groceries, I found peace in taking our last box of cherry jello, preparing it lovingly, and serving it to our kids on our very best china.
When Dan seemed especially stressed about paying the bills, I found solace in lovingly rubbing his back, encouraging him, and thanking God that we’d been given the privilege of carrying this cross together.
When I was utterly weary from the challenges that come with a bank account that hates you, I found relief in praying for the poor, meditating on their suffering, and giving thanks to God for the many gifts he’d given us.
I was not then, nor am I now, perfect at this practice, but I suspect that if one could measure such a thing, we’d find that the degree to which we pour love into our lives and loved ones is the degree to which fear is forced out.
Someone once told me that if you pray for your enemies, you will no longer be able to hate them. That the moment you begin to advocate for goodness in their life is the same moment that your animosity will begin to exhaust. This is because the light of love and the darkness of hatred cannot possibly exist in the same space.
The same is true of love and fear.
Love creates life-affirming beauty, fear sets out to destroy it. Love is joyful, fear miserable.
