Some thoughts on love and marriage from the past year

"Not everyone is able to stand at prayer often during the course of the day. But everyone can force himself to pray, even if just mentally, if in the presence of others. It is possible to begin and end every work and activity by raising the mind to God. A cold-hearted attitude toward the work of prayer is not helpful: 'I've said my prayers, I've read what I was told to do, and now I'm free. I've done my duty.' Such prayer does not produce good fruit." - Nikon of Optina

Kristin once told me that before this past year, while we were getting started in our married life, we were just "ships passing in the night." Quite literally, in fact. The long conversations and recent infatuation had not been replaced by good discipline and care for the ground of our marriage, much like the soil in a good garden. Because of this, we would often eat out, only eat one meal together daily, perhaps pray for a few minutes, read a little bit of the Bible, and entrance ourselves in front of the TV, convincing ourselves that we were too tired to do much of anything else after work.

In light of that, thank God for last year. Not because we pray more or read the Bible more or cook more or talk more. But because we are more attentive to what we are doing. Defaulting to what is easiest (carry out, Netflix, YouTube, video games) is not always what is best. One of the more modern words that Nikon is getting at with the above quote is "mindfulness." 

Mindfulness, remembrance of God in everything you do, is hard work. One of my college professors who spoke at a group Bible study for guys told us her husband (also a professor) was working 3 jobs while newly married and finishing up graduate school with a new kid. She told us to do what it takes to love your family, but not at the expense of your family. Though it was tough, their marriage didn't suffer nor did their parenting from his excessive absence. I recently read a study about the time children spend with their father. Two things were noteworthy: First, there is nothing that a dad can do to ensure a child's overall wellbeing (financial, emotional, mental, physical, spiritual) more than spending one-on-one time with them. Almost like a miracle pill, children who spend quality time with their dads are much less likely to become obese, deal with substance abuse, engage in risky behavior, go into debt, struggle with mental illness, etc.

Second, it doesn't have to be every waking second of every day. The study showed that quality, not quantity, was the most important thing. Things like physical touch, eye contact, active involvement in an activity, etc. are things that greatly shape everything about the child's worldview.

That study, I think, can also be reflective of marriage. Another study came to the conclusion that spending just 90 minutes a week (that's a 90-minute block, not 90 minutes total over 7 days) to catch up with your spouse - about jobs, thoughts, kids, housework, that annoying neighbor who mows the grass shirtless - was enough for couples to report genuinely happy marriages. Kristin and I started weekly marriage meetings even though we spend every day together. Intentional time makes a wealth of difference. 

I find that we often expect too much and too little of ourselves at the same time. Too much when it's doing something for external validation, to prove to ourselves and others that we have value. "I lead Bible studies, I go out of my way to help my family, I'm an obedient child, I get sweets for everyone at work, I keep my house clean, etc." But we also expect too little in areas that make us feel inferior, so we don't deal with them, making up excuses that are ultimately lies. "I'm not going to learn anything new; it's too much work. I put in my best effort on this research project. That's the best I can do as a parent; here is the list of reasons why I'm a good husband, etc."

For years, I was truly terrified of being the aloof, mentally checked-out dad so popular in 90s sitcoms - you know, the ones that are always watching TV while the kids are running amuck and only seem to know the words "Yes dear" and "Mhmm." I feel like that kind of fear pushes us in bad directions. To say as Nikon points out above, "I've done my duty," is to say that I don't have to accept responsibility for my shortcomings and mistakes and I don't have to go back to reflect on or amend those mistakes.

Anxiety seems to be a modern concept. At least we think it is because there wasn't an equivalent word for it in ancient societies. But what if there was? In a Christian education class I'm taking, the instructor pointed out that if you look at all the symptoms of anxiety, you find a word in the Bible and other ancient writings that perfectly describes it: cowardice.

What's more interesting is the given ancient Christian cure for this constant state of fret and worry: to remember death. To number our days (Psalm 90:12), remember we are dust (Psalm 103:14), vapor (James 4:4), like fading grass (Isaiah 40:8), or roses (Isaiah 28:4). In a word or two, to let go, to relinquish control back to God. Anxiety or cowardice comes from the inability to clearly see what is and is not in our control to change, to mend, to heal (and even so to still see with humility that there is a divine life working throughout any good we actually accomplish i.e. John 15:5 and the failure on our part is to still rely upon ourselves, to rely upon dust and not the breath which animates it). This past year, mortality has been very much before my eyes in the person of my wife. And with that, my own mortality as well. Through this, I've seen that hardship is not an excuse for hard-heartedness. To close oneself off is a choice.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” - C.S. Lewis